Alchemy, page 12
I unlaced my doublet and withdrew my charcoal rubbing. ‘I found this in Dee’s chamber. I hoped you might be able to tell me more?’
The Maharal took the paper and retrieved a pair of reading lenses from somewhere inside his jacket; I bit down my impatience as he fussed about adjusting them on the bridge of his nose and squinted at the letter.
‘I never received this,’ he said. ‘I wonder what happened to the original.’
‘If it wasn’t sent to you, then either Dee took it with him, or Hajek removed it after he disappeared,’ I said. ‘But you know what he refers to here?’
He twisted his mouth, a non-committal expression. ‘I would like to know what more he said. I hope it has not fallen into the wrong hands. You haven’t asked Hajek?’
‘Not yet. I wanted to find you. Who does he mean by “our enemies”? You spoke of a common enemy just now?’
Loew sighed. ‘Surely you must have guessed? Who would like to limit the influence of John Dee, an English Protestant, and me, a German-born Jew, on the man who is charged with holding the eastern half of Christendom for the one true Church?’
My heart sank; of course I knew. ‘The Catholics.’ Everything came back to Rome.
He nodded slowly. ‘They have spies even here, in the Jewish Town, among my own community, it grieves me to say. But it’s the same all over Europe. Rome feels her power weakening, and the best way for her to claw it back is through succession. In England, Queen Elizabeth has no heir. In France, King Henri has no children and has named a Protestant as next in line. Here in Prague, the Emperor is nearing forty and has refused all matches made for him with Catholic princesses who would secure the imperial throne, so Rome looks now to his younger brother for their best hope. There are rumours that his uncle Philip of Spain, together with the Pope, means to depose Rudolf, excommunicate him, have him declared mad – any excuse to replace him with Matthias, who is a devout servant of Rome and would be zealous in purging Bohemia of all other faiths.’ He grimaced, and reached for a cake. ‘Unless Rudolf makes a sound Catholic marriage and produces a legitimate heir in the very near future, I fear they will find a way to succeed. Matthias has hinted that he would bring the Inquisition to Prague. And I do not need to tell you where that would leave the likes of you and me. Expulsion would be the best my community could hope for.’
I thought of Hajek’s anger at Ottavio Strada, his remark that if anything happened to the Emperor, they were all dead men. Was that what he meant? Did the doctor fear that Rome would not stop at excommunicating Rudolf – that they would be willing to remove him by more extreme means? It would not be the first time they had tried such stratagems: there had been multiple plots against the life of Elizabeth of England, tacitly sanctioned by Rome and Spain – I had been caught up in two of them. The Protestant Dutch prince William of Orange was murdered on his own stairs by a fanatical Jesuit. In Paris, the moderate King Henri III lived in fear of assassination by his hardline Catholic enemies. Rabbi Loew was right; everywhere you looked across Europe, wherever the succession was in doubt, there was a Catholic waiting to grab the throne and stamp out any threat to Rome’s power.
‘But what has this to do with John?’ I asked, indicating the paper in his hand. ‘He is only one man, and from what I understand, his influence with the Emperor was not so great lately. This letter hints at a joint enterprise – he says your enemies suspect. Can you tell me what?’
There was a long pause. I watched him as he re-read Dee’s words, his eyes flicking right to left while he weighed up how much to say. Eventually he folded the paper in half, smoothed his fingertips along the crease and fixed me with a direct look.
‘John was sending letters back to England,’ he said, lowering his voice further. ‘I assume you know this already. He believed he had uncovered a conspiracy at court, and he wished to dispatch intelligence about it. But he had lately begun to feel unsafe at the House of the Green Mound – he mistrusted Hajek’s servants. He feared someone was looking through his things whenever he was out – he said one of his notebooks had been stolen. So he asked me if he could keep certain papers here until his courier arrived. That is all I can think of.’
I looked at his open face and a finely honed instinct, finessed through my years of working for Walsingham, told me he was keeping something back. Yet what he said rang true; I thought of Greta and her assiduous desire to relieve me of my doublet the night before. Surely John Dee could not have suspected an old Czech servant of having the capacity to read ciphers devised by Francis Walsingham’s own codebreaker? But of course not; she would be working on behalf of someone else. I needed to find out more about Greta’s background and her connections; that would be a job for Besler.
‘You don’t have those papers, I suppose?’ I asked.
Loew shook his head. ‘John took them back the last time I saw him – about three weeks ago, this was. I assumed he was expecting his contact.’
I remembered Overton saying that he had waited in vain for Dee. Whatever had become of those letters, he had not handed them on.
‘And this conspiracy – do you know any details?’
Again, he paused. ‘I believe it was tied up with these vile slanders he mentions. The Catholic faction at court have tried many times to accuse the Emperor of black magic as grounds for excommunication, and goodness knows, with his taste for forbidden books and bizarre experiments, they are not short of ammunition. If they put about the rumour that John summons demons and prophesies the downfall of the Church, they taint the Emperor by association and hope to be rid of two enemies at once. It is a ploy they have tried before, without success so far. It is no small matter to level such accusations at the anointed Holy Roman Emperor and make them stick. You would need incontrovertible evidence.’
‘Then why was John so worried about it now? Did he fear they had some compelling evidence? Was it connected with Ziggi Bartos?’
Loew puffed up his cheeks and blew out air through pursed lips, exactly as Esther had. ‘Oh, these petty rivalries between the alchemists – I told John to rise above it, but he could not resist. He envied Bartos’s youth and promise, Bartos envied John his experience and connections, and John enjoyed antagonising him. I knew it would not end well. One of the moneylenders here in the Jewish Town told me that, a few days before he was found dead, Bartos had come to him to exchange a significant quantity of Spanish escudos for thalers. Naturally, I wondered what a man who was constantly lamenting his debts had done to come by that kind of money from the Spanish. If I had to guess, I would surmise that he had been paid to falsify evidence that could be used against John and by extension the Emperor, but I don’t know for certain. If that was the case, poor Bartos did not live long enough to carry out his side of the deal.’
‘But – if Bartos was a paid pawn in a Catholic plot, why would they want to kill him?’
I pushed my hands through my hair. The more I tried to follow one thread to its end, the more tangled the whole cat’s cradle became.
‘Perhaps he reneged on their terms. Perhaps he became more trouble than he was worth.’ Rabbi Loew helped himself to another cake. ‘Would you take a word of advice from an old man, Dr Bruno?’
‘From one elder to another, you mean?’
He smiled. ‘Yes, sorry about that. I wanted your boy to go without protest. My advice, for what it’s worth – leave this murder alone.’
‘But—’ I stared at him, amazed. ‘Don’t you want to know who did this, and why?’ I pointed to the window. ‘What I saw just now, what was done to your synagogue – if the killer is brought to justice, then the Jews will be free from suspicion.’
He gave me a weary look. ‘You think? In your experience, do people in thrall to their prejudice readily change their minds when they are shown evidence that contradicts those assumptions? Do they not rather find a way to twist that proof to suit their original belief? If the murder is proven beyond doubt to be the work of a man and not a Golem, do you honestly imagine people will leave us alone, even if that man is strung up in the Old Town Square for all to see? You know better than that, Dr Bruno.’
I turned my glass between my hands; he was right, of course. ‘For John Dee’s sake, then. The Emperor challenged me to clear his name. I thought he was your friend.’
‘He is. But the best thing any of us can do for now is to lie low and wait for the storm to pass. Clean the walls, repair the windows. We have weathered worse, and people have short memories, even emperors. Something will come along to distract them soon enough. As I said, it is not as if Ziggi Bartos was deeply loved.’
‘Then – you think his murder is the end of the business?’ I was not convinced; in my experience, a killing – especially one so deliberately intended as a public spectacle – often led to more, if the killer felt his message had not been heeded.
He spread his hands wide. ‘I can’t foretell the future. But I do know that there are powerful forces in conflict with one another at Prague Castle, and you are one man with no one to protect you. Besides, you are already an enemy of the Church. Courage is a virtue, Bruno, but so is self-preservation. A wise man knows which is better suited to the moment. Sometimes we must take a longer view.’
‘Longer than an innocent man accused of a murder that is also being used to incite hatred of your community?’
‘If you want to put it like that. Take a lesson from John.’
‘You speak as if you know something. Tell me – is he safe?’
He dipped his head piously. ‘I pray that he is.’
It was not an answer. If Loew knew Dee’s whereabouts, it was clear that he was not going to share them. I could not deny the good sense in what he said, especially if the Catholics were behind Bartos’s murder, but I baulked at the idea of sitting back passively while the synagogue was defaced and Dee falsely accused. I also had to admit that Besler was right: I liked the idea of impressing the Emperor, ensuring his favour by serving up the killer to him on a platter. Perhaps the rabbi was genuinely trying to protect me from walking into danger, but I was more certain that he had not told me the whole truth.
‘Well, I must get on,’ Loew said, slapping his hands purposefully on his knees. ‘It has been good to meet you, Bruno, and your young student, who is, I think, astonished to find that we do not have horns and tails.’
‘He has only lately escaped the influence of his father,’ I said, smiling. ‘He has much to learn about the world that he won’t find in books.’
‘From what I hear, he could not have a better teacher. Well, you must come for dinner, both of you, when we can talk of more cheerful subjects.’
‘Thank you. One last question, before I go.’ I saw his face grow guarded again. I gestured to the letter. ‘Who is “B”?’
He glanced at the door. ‘He means Benjamin. The young man who brought you here. He carried messages between me and John.’
‘So why would he be in danger?’
The rabbi shook his head. ‘I can’t know without the rest of the letter.’
‘But you must have some idea? John asks you to warn him. Perhaps Benjamin will know?’
‘You can leave that with me,’ he said, and I caught in his voice the same paternal sternness with which he had spoken to Esther, the tone that clearly said this was not a matter for argument. I nodded, deciding immediately that I would speak to Benjamin Katz privately.
‘I suppose I had better find young Besler,’ I said as I stood, ‘before he falls hopelessly in love with your daughter.’
I had meant it as a joke, but the rabbi looked grim.
‘That,’ he said, ‘is the last thing we need.’
‘I have never met a woman with so much learning,’ Besler said, his face rapt, as we wound through the narrow streets towards the Old Town Square. It seemed I had arrived too late to prevent him from becoming smitten. ‘She knows six languages! My father always told me—’
Here we go, I thought, steeling myself.
‘—that I should avoid Jewish women, because they are lascivious and want to lure Christian men into wickedness.’ He looked as if he couldn’t imagine anything he’d like more.
‘Did your father actually know any Jewish women?’
He frowned. ‘I doubt it. But Esther is not like that – she is modest and gracious. And she has read books on mathematics and astronomy, which I always thought beyond a woman’s capacities.’
‘It’s nothing to do with capacity, Besler – it’s a matter of opportunity. I have known educated women who would have been a match for any man if they had been able to progress into the law or medicine or philosophy. As things stand, their only chance to pursue learning is by taking the veil, or being born a queen, and in this I think we wrong them.’ I couldn’t help a flash of envy, and wondered how I might engineer an opportunity to discuss astronomy with Esther Loew. I intended to take the rabbi up on his offer of dinner as soon as possible.
We had followed the way back past the Old-New Synagogue in the hope of encountering Benjamin Katz again, but he and his cousin had evidently finished their cleaning while we had been with Rabbi Loew; only a ghostly outline of the slogan remained on the side of the building as we passed. I would have to come back and find him; I was convinced that Dee’s fear for Benjamin’s safety was connected with Dee’s own disappearance and whatever their enemies suspected. If the rabbi wouldn’t tell me, perhaps Benjamin would be easier to convince.
Besler walked deep in thought, considering my words. ‘My father always said too much learning was undesirable in a wife. She should be able to read her Bible and know enough of writing and arithmetic to manage the household accounts, but if she yearns for knowledge outside her sphere, she should be avoided at all costs, for then she will never be satisfied with her wifely duties. A woman who is not content with her lot is more trouble than she is worth.’
‘That’s your father’s view, eh?’ I found myself forming a clearer picture of Herr and Frau Besler’s marriage. ‘How does your mother feel about it?’
He frowned, puzzled. ‘I never asked her.’
‘No, I don’t suppose you did. And what are a wife’s duties, then, in your view?’
He glanced at me, unsure if this was a trick question. ‘Well – to take care of the home, organise the servants and so on. And of course to have children and raise them correctly. To obey her husband. Why – do you disagree?’
‘Would you not rather have a wife you can talk to? One you can share ideas with? Who makes you laugh? One who has something more to discuss over supper than whether the butcher is overcharging for beef?’
‘I – I had not thought that was an option.’ He looked confused, as if I had asked him whether he wouldn’t like a talking dog. I could just picture the kind of pinkly scrubbed, modest, practical Lutheran girls his father would have pushed into his path: schooled in their Scriptures and the preparation of good plain food, none of the fire or ambition that appealed to me in a woman. Not that that had done me much good, I reflected.
‘What did you talk about with Esther Loew?’ I asked.
‘Medicine. She asked about my studies, and we discussed Avicenna and Galen.’ The reverent expression had returned to his face. ‘She is very beautiful, don’t you think? It’s a wonder that she is not married, at twenty-eight. I suppose, because she is the youngest daughter, it falls to her to keep house for the rabbi, but what a waste.’
‘Perhaps you should ask her, Besler. Imagine your father’s delight.’
He flushed to the tips of his ears. ‘I don’t mean – that could never – in any case, I can’t marry yet. I have to finish my studies and establish myself in my profession before my father will grant me the funds to support a family.’ He sighed. ‘And I couldn’t marry a woman like Esther.’
‘Because she is Jewish?’
‘Well, of course. And because she scares me a little.’
I laughed. ‘If you want my advice, never even think of marrying a woman who doesn’t scare you at least a little.’
‘What would you know of it?’ he said with a sly glance. ‘You have never married.’
‘You’re quite right – I am in no position to offer advice. In my defence, I was in holy orders until the age of twenty-seven. After that, I was on the run from the Inquisition, and whenever I found a place of safety, I was always dependent on patronage, which is unreliable when you have a reputation like mine. I have lived in exile for twelve years – that’s no kind of life to offer a woman.’
He fell silent for a moment. It was the most I had ever told him about my life before Wittenberg. ‘But did you never fall in love?’
‘That’s a different question.’ I thought of the woman I had loved in England – and loved still, in some deep secret part of my heart, though I tried to keep her from my mind, because the memory was painful, and because I doubted I would ever see her again. ‘I did love someone. She had all those qualities – courage, spirit, a quick mind. But she would not have married me. She disliked the idea of marriage.’
‘Then it is her loss,’ Besler declared, with touching loyalty. ‘You are still quite handsome.’
‘For an old greybeard, you mean?’ I cuffed him on the arm and he gave me a sheepish grin. ‘Talking of women – when we get back to Hajek’s, I want you to use your charms on Greta. Don’t look so appalled – this is part of our investigation. You’d be amazed how much servants see and hear. Offer to help her in the kitchen, carrying heavy sacks or something. Befriend her.’
‘But – why?’
I laughed at the expression of utter horror on his face; this was not how he had envisaged his trip to Golden Prague in the company of a renowned philosopher.
‘Dee feared someone in Hajek’s house was looking through his private papers. Hajek obviously trusts Greta, but people can have old loyalties that run deep. I want to know her background, her faith, who she is friends with in Prague. She likes you – you can ask her guileless questions in her own language. She is more likely to let something slip.’
