Alchemy, page 21
‘I can’t understand a word you say anyway.’ His lower lip jutted.
‘So look at the books. You might learn something.’
‘Not if they’re all in Hebrew.’ He kicked a stone. We were both in a bad humour: Besler at being dragged from sleep and denied a leisurely breakfast, and I at the enforced delay while I waited for him to dress and make himself ready. I had considered slipping away alone, but Greta was clearly wise to the fact that Besler’s helpful gestures were a ruse in pursuit of information, and I feared that if he woke and found me gone, he would decide to act on his own initiative. There was no knowing where that might lead, with a murderer in the streets and the Catholics as good as threatening his life to keep me in their control; I wanted him where I could see him. He pulled a hunk of bread from the pouch at his belt and gnawed on it as we walked.
‘They may not all be in Hebrew,’ I said, pulling my collar against the wind. Bohemia was still resisting spring; a chilly greyness enveloped the city, adding to the sense of enclosure. ‘You can make yourself useful, see if there is anything – I don’t know, folk tales or fables – that would make a suitable gift for a girl.’
‘A girl, Maestro?’ He nudged me, and his face broke into the first smile of the morning; he could never maintain a sulk for long.
‘A child,’ I said. ‘But one who is sharp-tongued in three languages, so we had better find something to her liking.’
We reached the familiar pointed gables of the Old-New Synagogue and found the street behind it as David had described, though I had not been prepared to see a crowd gathered outside so early in the morning. I slowed my pace; even before we were close enough to pick up murmurs of conversation, even before I could see which shop they were focused on, I knew in my gut that something was badly wrong. Some of the faces that turned to us registered suspicion, though most were too preoccupied to notice. They spoke among themselves in Yiddish, in low, urgent tones; I motioned to Besler to stay back as I followed their attention to see a bookbinder’s shop with all its windows smashed. A reprisal attack, as Rabbi Loew had predicted?
‘Is this David Maier’s place?’ I asked the woman nearest me. She showed a flicker of surprise at my formal Hebrew, but her eyes were dull with distress as she nodded. A quick glance up and down the street told me that no other properties had suffered the same violence. This attack had been specifically directed at David. I recalled his conversation of the previous night with the man in the cloak, David’s attempt to disengage himself from whatever he was involved in. It was no great stretch to think that someone wanted to make clear to David the consequences of walking away.
Besler nudged me, and I noticed in the centre of the little group a heavily pregnant woman in her thirties, crying softly, with two whimpering children clinging to her skirts and an infant that could not be more than a year in her arms. A tall, slender woman in a headscarf stood with an arm around the mother’s shoulders, murmuring words of comfort. As I stepped closer, she half-turned and caught my eye and I found myself disconcerted once again by Esther Loew’s beauty.
‘Dr Bruno,’ she said, assessing me with a small frown. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I was hoping to browse some books,’ I said, indicating the shop. ‘David—’ I broke off; I did not want to say anything that would hint at my encounter with David the night before. ‘I’m so sorry to see there has been another attack,’ I finished. ‘When did this happen?’
‘In the early hours, Sarah says.’ She nodded at the crying woman.
‘And no one saw anything?’ I gestured to the houses all around. ‘You can’t smash that much glass without waking the neighbours – there must have been witnesses, someone fleeing the scene. Surely people raised the alarm. Did David not think to give chase?’
Esther watched me for a moment, then handed Sarah into the care of another bystander and drew me aside. Besler followed us at a distance.
‘David did not come home last night. Sarah was alone in the apartment above the shop with the children when she heard someone downstairs, followed by the sound of breaking glass. They were terrified and hid under the beds. I can only presume you have had the good fortune never to experience anything like this. Otherwise you would know that the sensible course is to stay silent and hope it’s only your property that suffers violence.’
‘Forgive me,’ I said, chastened. ‘But how do you mean, he didn’t come home? Is that usual?’
‘No, of course not,’ she said with a trace of impatience. ‘David is often out in the evenings on business, Sarah doesn’t ask where or with whom. But this is the first time he has not come back. Naturally, with this attack’ – she gestured to the shop – ‘she is worried sick.’
‘Has anyone examined the shop?’
‘Not yet. Sarah’s eldest boy went to fetch my father, I thought it best to wait for him.’
She was keeping her composure admirably, but I caught the tremor in her voice.
‘Would you mind if I take a look? Perhaps you could help me.’
She hesitated before giving me a brisk nod. I heard her exchange a few words with Sarah, who shrugged miserably, as if it hardly mattered; her baby had begun to cry and she was distractedly shushing it. I followed Esther to the door, motioning for Besler to come with us. There was a flurry of indignation as we passed through the little crowd, but Esther possessed a calm authority that meant their muttering quickly subsided as she ushered me to the threshold, our feet crunching over shards of glass on the step.
The door closed behind us and I took in the surroundings. There was some disarray – books pulled off shelves, papers scattered – though not the wanton destruction I had seen at Ziggi Bartos’s lodging. Esther’s gaze drifted around the room with a vagueness that I put down to shock, her fingertips trailing across the edge of a shelf.
‘This must be very distressing for you,’ I said, wanting to offer comfort and feeling I could say nothing useful.
‘What? Oh – yes, of course,’ she said, wrenching her attention back to me. ‘But it is not as if we haven’t seen such things before, unfortunately.’
‘Were any other properties targeted last night?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Then why David, I wonder?’ I looked at her. ‘His wife is quite sure he is missing? He couldn’t be, I don’t know, visiting a friend overnight?’
She returned my look with scepticism. ‘Where would he go? David doesn’t have friends outside the community, only business contacts, and he is diligent when it comes to his family – he would never have gone away without telling Sarah. And with all this—’ she indicated the windows and shook her head.
‘Those casements are too small for a grown man to climb through, and the door has not been forced. Would Sarah have left it unlocked last night, if she was waiting for her husband to come home?’
‘You would have to ask her,’ Esther said, ‘but I would think it unlikely – some of these books are very valuable.’
‘Then …’ I met her gaze and saw her eyes dart away from mine; I hardly needed to state the obvious. If the door was not left unlocked, whoever did this had entered with a key.
I crouched to pick up a book from the floor – a commentary on the Talmud – and brushed it down. She was right; it was a beautifully bound edition; it was fortunate that it had not been damaged in the looting of the shop. A thought struck me; I glanced down at another volume lying at my feet and saw that it had landed face up, almost as if it had been placed there. A quick glance around showed the same for the rest of the books that had apparently been hurled from the shelves: not a single one had landed as you would expect a book flung in a hasty search might, with its pages splayed or torn. Whoever had been through the shop had clearly had too much respect for that. Esther stooped to retrieve another volume, dusting it down as I had. I wondered if she had made the same observation, but she said nothing as she replaced the book carefully on the shelf.
The shop was formed of one main room; at the back, a door ajar gave a glimpse of another chamber. I pushed it open and found myself in a small room that was evidently used as an office, just wide enough for a desk and chair. In one corner a set of narrow stairs led to the family’s quarters above, and in the alcove beneath, a row of iron-bound chests lined the wall. I motioned for Esther to join me; Besler pricked up his ears and moved towards us, but I held up a hand to forestall him.
‘Besler, I need you to search the shop thoroughly,’ I said. ‘See if whoever turned it over has left any trace of himself.’
‘Like what?’ The petulant look was back; he was afraid of being excluded.
‘I don’t know – a button from his coat, a ring, a kerchief – anything he might have dropped in his haste. And if you find nothing, see if there’s a book that would do for the girl.’
I closed the door on his scowl; Esther looked at me expectantly.
‘There is something I must tell you,’ I said, lowering my voice. ‘I saw David last night, in the Lesser Town. I think he may be in trouble.’ I was not sure why I was confiding in her and not the rabbi, except that I sensed she would have the correct instinct about what to do. It was also gratifying to have her undivided attention, though I told myself that was not my principal motivation.
‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes widened.
I told her in brief what I had witnessed at the sign of the Winged Horse and David’s nervous response.
‘Your father mentioned that he thought there were spies among you,’ I said. ‘From what I overheard last night, the obvious conclusion is that David has been trading information and something – I would guess the murder of Ziggi Bartos, with its deliberate reference to the Golem – made him rethink his position. He wanted to end the arrangement, and now you tell me he has not been seen since, and his shop has been turned over. That doesn’t seem like a coincidence. Though what secrets he was selling and to whom, I have no idea.’
Esther had grown pale during my story; she leaned against the desk for support. ‘Oh, our enemies are always interested in what we are up to, even the most mundane details.’ She spoke casually, but something in her tone made me frown.
‘Which enemies, though? The Catholics?’
‘I don’t know. You’re the one who saw this man in the cloak.’
‘Not really. I know only that he was fairly tall and that they were speaking in Hebrew. Which tells us that he was an educated man, but little more. I thought the Maharal should know. Especially now that David is missing.’
‘Certainly. Although you may find there’s not much goes on in this city that my father doesn’t know about.’
I looked at her, but she didn’t elaborate. I wondered if Rabbi Loew had spirited David away somewhere safe for his own protection, just as I suspected he may have done with John Dee. But if that were the case, would he not have told David’s wife? And why had the shop been attacked?
I squeezed past the desk, noting that its drawers had been opened and searched. Squatting in the alcove, I examined the chests under the stairs to see that all the locks were intact. I lifted one – it was heavier than I expected – and heard the muffled slide of money bags packed tightly together. Whoever had been through the shop did not care about coins, it seemed.
‘What puzzles me is why David would betray his community? From the short exchanges I’ve had with him, he struck me as a devout man.’
‘Well, perhaps that is your answer,’ Esther said evenly. ‘Maybe he believed that whatever he was doing would prevent a greater harm to our people. Knowing David, I would think that quite likely.’
I glanced up in time to catch that fleeting expression of sorrow I had glimpsed on her face the day before; it was there and gone in the space between heartbeats.
‘Esther – I feel I am missing part of the picture,’ I said softly. ‘If there is anything you can add that might help me to see it more clearly, I urge you to tell me. It is all connected somehow, I’m certain – Bartos, the Golem, John Dee, David – but I – I can’t understand how.’ I stood and looked at her until she met my gaze, and I was startled to see the shine of tears in her eyes.
‘No,’ she said, barely audible. ‘You can’t.’
‘Then – help me? What harm do you mean? What does David know?’
She watched me and I saw her making calculations, weighing up how much to say. After a long moment she seemed about to speak, when the door burst open and Besler’s face appeared in the gap. Rarely had I been so irritated to see him.
‘The Maharal is here,’ he announced grandly. ‘And I have something to show you, Maestro.’
Esther blinked away all trace of emotion, so that I almost fancied I had imagined it; her eyes flicked to Besler with interest, but before he could explain, the figure of Rabbi Loew filled the doorway behind him. The rabbi put his hands on the boy’s shoulders and gently moved him out of the way. He looked tired, and the smile he offered me was strained; a glance passed between him and Esther that I could not read.
‘Go and attend to Sarah, my dear,’ he said to her, ‘she needs you.’ Esther nodded and slipped past him, giving me one last look over her shoulder as she left.
‘You are kind to be concerned, Dr Bruno,’ Loew said, ‘but you can leave this with me now.’
‘Then – you know where David is?’
‘Not yet.’
‘But you knew he was betraying your community?’
There was a long silence. Loew looked at me, pulling at his beard. ‘Regrettably,’ he admitted. ‘Though I’m sure he was doing what he thought was right.’
‘You spoke to him about it?’
‘I didn’t get the chance. I only recently learned of the situation.’
But Esther knew, I thought. She had not appeared shocked when I told her of David’s treachery.
‘I warned him to be careful in the streets last night,’ I said with sudden anger at myself. ‘I meant it as a jibe, to let him know I’d seen the full purse he had taken. But I never really thought he was in danger, otherwise I would have followed him. I should have, in any case – I could at least have found out who he’d been talking to, and we would have a better idea—’
Loew laid a hand on my arm. ‘It was not your responsibility, Bruno. In any case, we don’t know that David has come to harm. Do not concern yourself unduly. There are people out looking for him – I pray he’ll be found safe and well.’
I wondered if he really believed that, but he could make his face as inscrutable as Walsingham when he chose; his mild expression gave nothing away. Perhaps that was the essence of leadership, I thought. It was clear that I was being dismissed, and I resented it.
‘How can I not be concerned?’ I said stubbornly. ‘That letter John wrote to you – he warned of danger to your people. He knew there was a threat, and I’m certain it is all connected. What am I missing?’
‘You are seeing connections because you wish to make sense of this, understandably,’ he said with the same infuriating calm. ‘It’s still early – go home and get some rest. Or I can ask Esther to make you something to eat, if you’re hungry?’
‘Yes please,’ Besler said from behind the rabbi. I glared at him.
‘John mentioned danger to B,’ I persisted. ‘If B is Benjamin, then perhaps he knew of David’s betrayal. Maybe he tried to intervene in some way. And John found out, and realised he was in danger—’ I stopped and looked around. ‘Where is Benjamin?’
‘Looking for David, I presume. Go home, Dr Bruno. This is a matter for us now.’ He was still smiling gently, but in his voice I heard a steely resolve that was not to be contradicted. I hesitated, weighing up the advantages of arguing further, and decided there were none for now. I would do better to speak to Benjamin directly.
‘Give you good day,’ I said, bobbing a brisk bow to the rabbi. ‘Come on, Besler.’
‘Maestro—’
‘Outside,’ I hissed as I pushed past him in the doorway. ‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do,’ I called to Rabbi Loew as we left. He was stooped over, examining the drawers of David’s desk.
‘You could pray for him,’ he said without looking up.
‘I’ll leave that to you,’ I said, casting a last glance around the dingy shop. ‘I’m not sure my credit is good with the Almighty these days.’ Besides, I had more practical steps in mind.
The little crowd in the street had dispersed, evidently reassured by the arrival of Rabbi Loew, though a couple of women remained at a distance, speaking in subdued tones. I turned to Besler, who was hopping up and down beside me like a puppy.
‘What did you find then?’
‘Two things of note,’ he said, eager for praise. ‘The first – see, here.’ He pointed to the ground outside the shop. ‘Most of the broken glass is on the outside. That’s curious, no? If someone had smashed the windows to break in, it would have fallen through to the floor of the shop.’
‘Very good,’ I said. ‘So what do you conclude?’
‘That whoever did it was already inside. Perhaps they wanted to make it look like a break-in.’ He frowned. ‘But why?’
‘I think that, despite what Rabbi Loew says, someone around here knows what David was doing, and why. You’re right, this wasn’t a real robbery – they didn’t touch the money, and it wasn’t a warning either. Nothing was damaged except the windows – they couldn’t even bring themselves to throw the books around. I’d guess whoever did it was looking for any papers that might show what information David was selling, or to whom. Maybe David even did it himself, to cover his disappearance. Good work – what else did you come up with?’
‘I found this, caught on one of the broken panes.’
He held up a scrap of something between finger and thumb. I took it from him and saw that it was a fragment of faded crimson wool.
‘Ah. Well, at least that’s confirmed who we need to speak to,’ I said, tucking it into my sleeve. ‘A pity the rabbi arrived before I had time to look at the books – though I don’t suppose there was anything suitable for the child.’
