Alchemy, page 17
Something in the woman’s bearing and her manner of speaking struck me as familiar. I studied her more closely and all at once I realised: she reminded me of Greta. The resemblance was there in the furrowed brow, the look of instinctive suspicion. I was sure this must be the sister Besler had mentioned, who had inherited the family tavern, but I decided not to mention the connection for now. Instead I counted out eleven thalers.
‘Extra for your trouble,’ I said with my most charming smile. ‘Now, I’d like a pot of beer, some bread and whatever the girl wants.’
Sukie asked for a beef pie, assured me that I should have the same, and when Magda had gone, she rested her chin on her hands and fixed me with a stern look.
‘So I suppose you think I’m in your debt now,’ she said. I spread my hands wide.
‘Quid pro quo. Do you know what that means?’
‘Of course.’
‘Well, then. As I told you, I need information.’
‘To catch the person who killed Ziggi?’
‘I hope so,’ I said. ‘If you can help me.’
‘Good. He was my friend.’
It was the first time she had mentioned this; I must have looked surprised because she offered a shy smile. ‘I used to go over and help him sometimes when Far was out,’ she explained. ‘Measuring ingredients for his experiments, washing up the equipment, that kind of thing. Far didn’t like me spending time there, but he didn’t know Ziggi. He was kind. We used to lie for each other.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘If the debt collectors came. I’d say I hadn’t seen him, and he’d do the same for me.’
‘So Ziggi had money troubles too?’ That confirmed what I had learned from Rabbi Loew.
‘All the alchemists are up to their necks in debt,’ she said, as if this were common knowledge. ‘But Ziggi—’ She stopped, chewing her lip.
‘What?’
‘He said his fortunes were about to change. He was going to make a lot of money. He promised to buy me a rabbit fur hat, and a new doll, although I’ve outgrown dolls, really.’ She smiled sadly. ‘I thought it was too good to be true. Next thing I know, Goodwife Huss is running up and down the street telling everyone the Golem has ripped him to pieces. Far went to the Stone Bridge to see for himself, but he wouldn’t let me go with him.’
‘I think that was wise,’ I said, picturing Bartos’s mutilated face. Perhaps her father wasn’t entirely irresponsible after all. ‘Did Ziggi tell you how he hoped to make this money?’
In her hesitation I saw that she had a good idea, but at that moment the innkeeper returned with the pies and I had to curb my impatience while Sukie attacked hers as if she had not seen a hot meal in days – which I suspected might well be the case.
‘It was something to do with his experiments,’ she answered, when she finally paused to draw breath. ‘He wouldn’t say what exactly.’
‘But you knew what he was aiming for, if you were assisting him?’ I prompted.
She shrugged. ‘Ziggi said the Philosopher’s Stone was not something that would turn iron into gold, only fools without the imagination to see further thought that. All I know is he was teaching me about distillation. He wanted to produce a kind of liquor – he said I must never touch it because it would make me very sick. Only adepts could drink it safely.’
‘Did he say what it was for, this liquor?’
‘He said when he had finessed it, it would make you transcend your mortal body. It had gold in it, I know that. He needed to melt quantities of gold to make it, that’s why he had to borrow so much from the Jews. And he said’ – she dropped her gaze to her trencher – ‘that if anyone knew what he was working on, they would try to steal it. He made me take an oath not to speak of it.’
I nodded. All this made sense; the pursuit of aurum potabile – drinkable gold – was yet another goal of the alchemical art, related to the elixir of life. For centuries, alchemists had believed that if gold, being incorruptible, could be distilled into a liquid through the correct formula, it would cure all diseases by transferring its properties of perfection. The Arab physician Geber had been the first to discover that certain forms of acid could liquefy gold, and Paracelsus was convinced that aurum potabile was viable, but he never claimed to have produced it. Did Ziggi Bartos believe he had succeeded where they had failed? I tried to process this new information without saying anything that might alarm Sukie or cause her to clam up.
‘After Ziggi was killed,’ I said, turning my tankard between my hands, ‘his house was searched. Before I came last night, I mean. Did you see who did that?’
She turned her attention back to the remains of her pie, eating more slowly this time. ‘A man. That’s all I can tell you. He came in the night, before the news broke at dawn that Ziggi was dead and everyone ran down to the bridge to see. I could hear the sounds of breaking glass from my room.’
‘You didn’t tell your father, or go to see what was happening?’
She took a moment to answer. ‘I just assumed …’ A lift of one thin shoulder. ‘These things happen, when you owe money. Sometimes they come to give you a warning. People don’t get involved.’ From the set of her mouth, it was clear that such things had happened in her own house. ‘My father slept through it, of course.’
‘This man who smashed up the house – did you get a clear look at him?’
‘He had a cloak with the hood up.’
‘And then he came back to clean up after I was there last night?’
She shook her head, her mouth full. ‘Maybe. I don’t know if it was the same person. But the second time there was a woman too.’
‘A woman?’ I stared at her, the tankard halfway to my mouth. ‘What did she look like? Young, old?’
‘Tall. Apart from that, I couldn’t see much. They came just before dawn today. She had long skirts and a hood. The man wore a cap pulled low and a kerchief tied around his mouth like this.’ She indicated the lower part of her face. It sounded very much like one of the Spaniards who had attacked me. ‘He brought a little handcart. When they came out, they loaded it up with sacks and took them away. I went over to look after they’d gone, and there was nothing left.’
Greta? I wondered. Could Hajek have sent her with another servant to strip the place bare, knowing I would want to go over it again in daylight? I took a drink, silently cursing Jacopo Strada for planting that suspicion in my head. I would have liked to believe that Hajek was the one person in Prague I could trust.
‘So I suppose,’ I said carefully, setting my pot down, ‘that the searchers must have found whatever they were looking for. This potion he was making, I presume.’
At first she didn’t respond; all her concentration was very deliberately on mopping up sauce with a piece of bread. After a moment she raised her eyes to meet mine, and I saw in her expression an internal struggle, which I divined to be a conflict of loyalties. All at once, I thought I understood, but it was a matter of persuading the girl to confide in me.
‘Listen, Sukie,’ I said, leaning across the table. ‘Ziggi is dead now, so you are released from any oaths you made to him. Secrets he asked you to keep, for example.’
Her gaze darted away; I could see her biting the inside of her mouth as she tore the bread into ever-smaller pieces and rolled them between her fingers.
‘What if they didn’t find it?’ she whispered, confirming my guess.
‘In that case … I’ll be frank with you – I think your friend was killed precisely because of that substance he was working on.’ I was not at all sure of this, but she did not need to know that. ‘That man who came to search his house – I have an idea who he is, and he is dangerous. So if, by some chance, Ziggi feared people might come looking for it, and he gave the potion to someone he trusted to keep it safe – well, then, that person might also be in danger. The searcher will have been asking around, as I am, to find out who he associated with. One of your neighbours might have mentioned you spending time at his house.’
The colour drained from her face as she stared at me, though in an instant her expression hardened to a frown. ‘How do I know you are not also trying to steal his work? You were searching his house too.’
‘True. But I did not smash the place up. I have settled your father’s debt here, haven’t I?’
She let out a dry laugh that belonged to someone older and world-weary. ‘Yes. Thank you. That just leaves all the other taverns in the Lesser Town.’
‘I’ll do what I can. In return, I’m asking you to trust me. Sukie – I saw what was done to Ziggi Bartos,’ I added quietly. ‘Your father saw it too. These are people you don’t want to cross. You say your father didn’t like you spending time with Ziggi – how would he feel if he knew you were keeping the very thing that got him killed? What if – God forbid – that man suspects you have it and breaks into your house?’
She poked miserably at her pie and pushed away the remains, as if my threats had ruined her appetite. I felt bad for frightening her, though only a little.
‘But Ziggi said’ – she flicked one of the miniature balls of bread on to the floor – ‘it was going to make his fortune. He was so sure. So I thought, after he died, maybe if Far took it to the Emperor, he could claim he discovered it and that would solve all our problems.’ She would not look at me and she sounded close to tears; I understood how desperately she wanted to believe that she had inherited some miraculous cure-all from the dead alchemist, and why she was reluctant to let it go.
‘If your father had made that claim and then been unable to replicate the substance, he would have been revealed as a fraud and punished,’ I pointed out. ‘The Emperor has banished alchemists for less. And as you saw for yourself, this elixir or whatever it is did not bring Ziggi riches – it brought him a violent death.’
‘Doesn’t that prove it was valuable? If that man wanted it so much?’
‘Not necessarily. Look, why don’t we try this,’ I offered, grasping at incentives. ‘If you let me take the substance and test it, I can tell you if it’s worth anything. If it is, I will arrange for you to bring it to the Emperor in person and I’m sure there will be a reward, especially if it helps us to catch Ziggi’s murderer. At least that way it will not be hidden in your house, putting you and your father at risk.’
I had no idea whether I could make good on this promise; I would worry about that later. Sukie weighed up the offer and eventually nodded. ‘All right. But you have to do something for me in return.’
‘Name your price.’ I fervently hoped she would not ask me to settle all her father’s debts in one go; the purse Overton had given me from Walsingham would not stretch to that.
She picked at a splinter on the tabletop. ‘I want a book.’
‘Which book?’
‘Don’t mind. But Far has sold all of his, except a couple I managed to hide, and anyway I have read them many times. You’re a writer, you must have books.’
‘Oh. Well, I do, but—’ But none of them suitable for an eleven-year-old girl, I almost said, stopping myself before I offended her. ‘What kind of books do you like?’
‘Adventures,’ she said without hesitation.
‘You mean, courtly tales? Like the knights of King Arthur?’
‘I don’t mind King Arthur.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Or the Norse gods – Far has told me those stories. Are there any adventures with girls in?’
I considered. Not enough, I realised. ‘Do you know the tales of the Greeks?’ I said. ‘Plenty of heroines in those.’ It occurred to me as I spoke that most of them ended up raped, dead or transformed into inanimate objects, but she could find that out for herself.
‘All right, I’ll read those,’ she said, brushing crumbs neatly into a pile with the side of her hand as if the matter were now settled.
‘Shall we go back to your house now, and you can give me whatever Ziggi left in your keeping?’ I said, afraid she might change her mind. ‘I’ll bring you the book as soon as I can find a good one,’ I promised, seeing her hesitation. Hajek surely had a translation of Homer or Ovid; failing that, perhaps I could persuade Ottavio Strada to raid the imperial library. When she answered with a reluctant nod, I pushed my chair back. ‘Let me pay a visit to the yard and settle our bill. Wait here for me.’
I left coins on the serving hatch and slipped out of the back door. Darkness had fallen while we were eating, and the yard was sunk in shadow, barely lit by lanterns on poles flanking the rear gate. I passed under the leafless branches of a chestnut tree in the centre of the yard and stopped to piss in a mound of straw by the stables, breathing through my mouth to avoid the smell. I was lacing my breeches when I heard the sound of male voices from around the side of an outbuilding. They caught my attention because, although I couldn’t make out all the words, I recognised from the cadences of their speech that they were conversing in Hebrew; unusual enough here, so far from the Jewish Town, to be worth remarking on. I crept closer, curious to know what was being discussed.
There were two of them and they spoke urgently, in whispers; I pressed my back against the wall and strained to listen, though it was impossible to hear clearly until one raised his voice in frustration.
‘But I could not have known it would come to this,’ he protested, ‘or I would never—’ and I heard his interlocutor hiss at him to be quiet. A muted exchange followed, until the first man spoke louder again.
‘Then it ends here,’ he said with evident agitation. ‘I cannot have that on my conscience. Are we agreed?’
I heard a rustling and the chink of coins; money was changing hands. I inched towards the corner of the building, hoping for a look at them, but I had not reckoned on a wooden pail that had been left by the wall; my foot struck it and sent it rolling over the cobbles with a clatter that sounded loud as gunshot in the silence. For a moment, there was only the stillness of held breath; I stepped out from the shadows, clearing my throat and making a show of adjusting my breeches, to see one of the men already hurrying away under the broad arched gate. I glimpsed only an impression of height and the whisk of a cloak as he disappeared, the sound of his quick footsteps carrying through the night behind him.
‘Evening,’ I said, nodding to the remaining man, who appeared rooted to the spot with fear; I looked a second time, more closely, at the same moment that he tilted his hat back and said, amazed, ‘You?’
It was David, the cousin of Benjamin Katz who I had met that morning, wearing a large hat with a rabbit fur trim pulled low to hide his face. He clasped an object between his hands; on recognising me, he stuffed it hastily inside his jacket and I heard again the soft jangle of metal. Even in the dim light I could see the colour burning in his cheeks; he had not expected his transaction to be witnessed by anyone he knew, and his mouth opened wordlessly as he formulated an excuse.
‘I was just having supper,’ I said pleasantly, to spare him. ‘This place was recommended to me for the food. Are you a regular here?’
‘I – no. Not at all. I was just – I don’t know about the food,’ he finished lamely. ‘I can’t eat it.’
‘It’s that bad?’
He allowed a nervous smile. ‘No – I mean, it’s not kosher.’ He hesitated, then grasped at my sleeve. ‘Listen – would you mind not mentioning to Rabbi Loew that you saw me here? He – he wouldn’t approve. Nor would my cousin.’
‘Why not? Oh—’ I gave him a sly nod. ‘Women, is it?’ I had noticed girls in the tap-room who were clearly for sale, though they went about it more discreetly than in many such places.
David flushed a violent red and looked appalled. ‘Absolutely not! I’m a married man. I sometimes—’ he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder.
‘I won’t repeat a word,’ I said, leaning in to encourage confidences.
‘I sometimes take a drink with the alchemists,’ he said, not meeting my eye. ‘Some of them are learned men with an interest in the Cabala, and they wish to acquire books. That is all. But Rabbi Loew wouldn’t like it, so I would really appreciate—’
‘Why not?’ I asked. ‘I thought he was all for sharing knowledge. He told me the alchemists often come to him.’
‘Well, exactly,’ David said, his eyes flicking past me to the gate. ‘They go to him. He does not frequent Gentile taverns.’
I gave him a long look. ‘I thought you were the one who disapproved of outsiders dabbling in Jewish learning?’
He let out an impatient sigh. ‘I have four children, Dr Bruno, and another on the way. I’m a bookseller – I must supplement my income however I can, and here is a ready supply of men who will pay well, especially if they believe they are purchasing the only available copy of a rare work.’ He shook his head, and pulled his hat down further to hide the shame in his eyes. ‘I envy you if you have never had to compromise a principle to put bread on the table, but the rest of us do what we must.’
‘Oh, I’m the last person to judge a man for his need to make a living,’ I said, surprised at his defensiveness. ‘In fact, I would be curious to see your shop – I have a little money put by for books myself.’
He weighed this up briefly and nodded; I could tell he was in a hurry to be gone. ‘I’m sure I can find something of interest. I’m in the street behind the Old-New Synagogue – Maier and Sons. And you won’t mention seeing me here?’
‘Where you do business is no concern of mine.’
‘Thank you, sincerely,’ he said, though he didn’t look wholly convinced. ‘Well, I must go.’
‘Take care out there with such a full purse,’ I said as he turned to leave.
He snapped back to look at me. ‘What?’
‘You’ve clearly had a profitable night.’ I nodded to his chest, where he had tucked away the pouch. ‘And I’ve learned the hard way that these streets are full of thieves.’
He gave a thin smile. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. But I have known these streets all my life, and you have not. I appreciate your concern.’ He shifted his jacket uncomfortably; I could see he did not like me drawing attention to the money he had received. It was not for dealing books to alchemists, of that much I was certain; the few who could afford specialist works of Jewish mysticism would hardly be trading them like contraband by a tavern privy.
