‘That’s the thing about secret societies,’ said Griffin. ‘They’re easy to romanticize. You think it’s this long courting process – that you’ll be inducted, shown a whole new world, shown all the levers and people at play. If you’ve formed your only impression of secret societies from novels and penny dreadfuls, then you might expect rituals and passwords and secret meetings in abandoned warehouses.
‘But that’s not how things work, brother. This is not a penny dreadful. Real life is messy, scary, and uncertain.’ Griffin’s tone softened. ‘You should understand, what I’m asking you to do is very dangerous. People die over these bars – I’ve watched friends die over these bars. Babel would like to crush the life out of us, and you don’t want to know what happens to the Hermes members they catch. We exist because we’re decentralized. We don’t put all of our information in one place. So I can’t ask you to take your time reviewing all the information. I’m asking you to take a chance on a conviction.’
For the first time, Robin registered that Griffin was not as confident, not as intimidating as his rapid-fire speech made him sound. He stood, hands wedged in his pockets, shoulders hunched and shivering against the biting autumn wind. And he was so visibly nervous. He was twitching, fidgeting; his eyes darted over his shoulder every time he finished a sentence. Robin was confused, distressed, but Griffin was scared.
‘It’s got to be like this,’ Griffin insisted. ‘Minimal information. Quick judgment calls. I’d love to show you my whole world – I promise, it’s not fun being alone – but the fact remains you’re a Babel student who I’ve known for less than a day. The time may come when I trust you with everything, but that’ll only be when you’ve proven yourself, and when I’ve got no other options. For now, I’ve told you what we do, and what we need from you. Will you join us?’
This audience, Robin realized, was drawing to an end. He was being asked to make a final decision – and if he said no, he suspected, then Griffin would simply vanish from the Oxford he knew, would fade so effectively into the shadows that Robin would be left wondering if he’d imagined the entire encounter. ‘I want to – I do, really, but I still don’t – I just need time to think. Please.’
He knew this would frustrate Griffin. But Robin was terrified. He felt he’d been led to the edge of a precipice and told, with no assurances, to jump. He felt as he had seven years ago, when Professor Lovell had slid a contract before him and calmly asked that he sign away his future. Only then he’d had nothing, so there had been nothing to lose. This time he had everything – food, clothing, shelter – and no guarantee of survival at the other end.
‘Five days, then,’ said Griffin. He looked cross, but he made no recriminations. ‘You get five days. There’s a lone birch in the Merton College gardens – you’ll know it when you see it. Scratch a cross in the trunk by Saturday if it’s a yes. Don’t bother if it’s a no.’
‘Just five?’
‘If you don’t know the layout of this place by then, kid, there’s no getting through to you at all.’ Griffin clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Do you know the way home?’
‘I – no, actually.’ Robin hadn’t been paying attention; he had no idea where they were. The buildings had receded into the background; now they were surrounded only by rolling green.
‘We’re in Summertown,’ said Griffin. ‘Pretty, though a bit boring. Woodstock’s at the end of this green – just take a left and walk all the way down south until things start looking familiar. We’ll part here. Five days.’ Griffin turned to go.
‘Wait – how do I reach you?’ Robin asked. Now that Griffin’s departure seemed imminent, he was somehow reluctant to part ways. He had a sudden fear that if he let Griffin out of his sight then he might disappear for good, that this would all turn out to be a dream.
‘I told you – you don’t,’ said Griffin. ‘If there’s a cross on the tree, I reach you. Gives me insurance in case you turn out to be an informant, you see?’
‘Then what am I supposed to do in the meantime?’
‘What do you mean? You’re still a Babel student. Act like one. Go to class. Go out drinking and get into brawls. No – you’re soft. Don’t get into brawls.’
‘I... fine. All right.’
‘Anything else?’
Anything else? Robin wanted to laugh. He had a thousand other questions, none of which he thought Griffin would answer. He took the chance on just one. ‘Does he know about you?’
‘Who?’
‘Our – Professor Lovell.’
‘Ah.’ This time, Griffin did not glibly rattle off an answer. This time, he paused before he spoke. ‘I’m not sure.’
This surprised Robin. ‘You don’t know?’
‘I left Babel after my third year,’ Griffin said quietly. ‘I’d been with Hermes since I started, but I was on the inside like you. Then something happened, and it wasn’t safe anymore, so I ran. And since then I’ve...’ He trailed off, then cleared his throat. ‘But that’s beside the point. All you need to know is you probably shouldn’t mention my name at dinner.’
‘Well, that goes without saying.’
Griffin turned to go, paused, then turned back around. ‘One more thing. Where do you live?’
‘Hm? Univ – we’re all at University College.’
‘I know that. What room?’
‘Oh.’ Robin blushed. ‘Number four, Magpie Lane, room seven. The house with the green roof. I’m in the corner. With the sloping windows facing Oriel chapel.’
‘I know it.’ The sun had long set. Robin could no longer see Griffin’s face, half-hidden in shadow. ‘That used to be my room.’