The Alchemist of Rome

by M C Dulac

  The palazzo must have been one of the grandest houses on the coast. But now, surrounded by dying orchards and the collapsed cliffs, the ruin sent a chill through her bones. Was it nature or man that had caused this destruction?

  Tall grass concealed hollows and holes across the lawn. It was too dangerous to go further. She had no choice except to return to the overgrown woodland. In parts, the grove was so dark it was hard to know where the path was leading her. She was glad to finally see the gateposts ahead and reach the safety of the road. She looked at the wild woodland and the rusted railings and then across the surrounding hills of lemon groves. There was no other house anywhere nearby.

  The book weighed heavily in her bag. But there was no one to give it to and no one to ask. She drove back to Amalfi. Her brow was furrowed as she thought of the ruined house.

  She had lunch in a cafe near the Cathedral. After she had eaten, annoyance and anger brewed inside her. Why had Antonio sent her to the wrong place? The Palazzo Ombre was not a hotel or a villa. It was a ruin and had been for years. The whole place had a strange air of abandonment and decay. Even the lemon groves had died, the closer they were to the villa’s gates.

  She stared at her phone. Antonio had not left any messages.

  As the afternoon wore on, clouds drew in and the streets of Amalfi were as dim as twilight. Amalfi was a grand sombre town, dominated by a twelfth century Cathedral. In summer, the main square must have been bustling. Now, as she wandered the streets in the grey rain of autumn, she felt the weight of the town’s history as a fortress city and maritime power, defending this wild coast.

  Rain began to fall. She climbed a set of steps and found herself in a warren of covered passages.

  She gazed at the intriguing doorways and signs. There was a whole world in these whitewashed passages which opened onto courtyards and squares. Occasionally she heard voices, or doors closing. The rain continued to drip from the eaves as she reached the cover of another passage.

  There was a shadow on the wall ahead. A man’s shadow, which looked very like Antonio. The man was walking away from her. As the passage turned, the shadow moved on. She could not hear the man’s footsteps, although her own were echoing along the cobblestones.

  He continued on steadily. She did not glimpse his figure, but his shadow, elongated or shortened, faded in and out of the passage. She turned another corner, only to see the shadow disappear up a set of steps. She followed him, finding herself in another courtyard that led to more passages.

  The shadow walked further. When he turned his head, the profile of his hair and features was familiar.

  “Antonio?” she called at last.

  The shadow stopped and turned around. She felt foolish. What if the man wasn’t Antonio? She ran ahead determined to see who it was, but when she turned the corner, the passage was empty.

  She heard a noise and saw small children behind her, returning from school.

  She was sure she had seen Antonio. And now she was sure it had been him on the beach that morning. But where had he gone? Or had she just imagined these shadows? She rubbed her temples and ignored the throbbing in her head.

  When she returned to her hotel room, she lay down on her bed. She checked her phone. Antonio had not called.

  She opened her suitcase and saw the copy of Dante’s Inferno which she had purchased in Florence.

  She read the first lines. The poet had woken to find himself in a dark woodland, lost and troubled, having wandered off the proper path of life. Thus began grief-stricken Dante’s descent into the underworld, after the untimely death of his wife, Beatrice.

  Rebecca thought of the ruined palazzo surrounded by the dying woods and then the confusing passageways of Amalfi. She put the book aside, closed the curtains and tried to sleep.

  chapter nine

  In daylight, Rebecca’s fears faded, replaced by more practical concerns. She had to give the book to Antonio. He had not replied to her messages. The only address she had was the Palazzo Ombre and she was sure she had gone to the right place. The name of the palazzo was carved into the gates, and there were no other houses nearby.

  But how had the house become such a tragic ruin? Whatever tragedy had befallen the palazzo had happened a long time ago. Who had lived there and why had they let the destruction happen?

  Rebecca sat by the window in her hotel room and looked at the map again. The road to the palazzo wound further around the cliffs. Perhaps there was another part of the estate, which she had not seen.

  After breakfast, she asked the woman at the hotel desk about the Palazzo Ombre. The woman shook her head and called to an older woman. They spoke so fast, Rebecca could not catch their words. When they paused to answer, neither of them knew anything about the ruin on the cliffs.

  Reluctantly, Rebecca left the hotel with the map. She drove along the coast until she reached the road into the lemon groves. The gates to the Palazzo Ombre were still ajar, half sunk into the mud.

  The orchard beyond the gates stood silently in the bright sunshine. Rebecca walked alongside the railing fence until she came to the edge of the estate. The sea swirled against the wet cliffs. She had been right. The palazzo, and the burnt ruin next to it, were the only houses on this part of the coastline.

  She set off in the car again. The road became a dirt track, which wound around the base of the hillside. Lemon groves spread out in all directions. Ahead was the main road to Positano. Her hunch had come to nothing. There was no other part of the Palazzo Ombre estate.

  It was past midday. Perhaps someone in Positano might know about the mysterious ruins on the cliff.

  The road swept along the edge of the sea. The curves were hypnotic and soothing. Rebecca kept her eye on the hairpin bends as she drove in and out of the shadows cast by the steep cliffs.

  The town of Positano was nestled in the bay below. Pastel villas rose on the surrounding hillsides. The town with its colourful domes and rooftops lay in the fold between the mountains and the beach.

  Rebecca sped down the road into the town, coming to a stop above the main square. She would eat first, then try to find someone who knew about the palazzo. The decay had set in a long time ago, and the fire that consumed the villa must have been spectacular. There must be some historical record of the events that had taken place, or a record of the past and present owners of the Palazzo Ombre.

  Steps led down through the town, opening onto squares or lanes lined by boutiques and galleries. Positano was a charming labyrinth. Just when she thought she had reached the seafront, the path led upwards to another lane. At last she emerged through a passage, to find the sea glittering before her.

  Rebecca found a restaurant near the beach and ordered lunch. The pasta was fresh and delicious. She was taking her last bite when her eyes drifted across the terrace.

  A couple was sitting a few tables in front of her. Rebecca’s heart began to pound. It was the couple she had seen in Antonio’s apartment in Rome.

  They had not seen her, and were involved in their own conversation. Their voices drifted on the sea breeze.

  “Do you think he is here?”

  “He is somewhere on the coast.”

  “There is something wrong, Jean-Louis.”

  “Everything suggests that he has the knowledge.”

  “But he is frightened. As though he does not control his destiny. There is a feeling here that I do not like.”

  The man placed his hand over hers.

  “We came to see what we can learn from him, Jean-Louis. What if we can learn nothing - or worse.”

  “I agree, there is something not right, Elise.”

  “And the girl in Rome. Why does he need her?”

  “I don’t like it,” the man admitted, “He has convinced her to help him.”

  “But why?”

  “I do not know,” he leaned into his chair and gazed at the sea, “I wish we could find him soon - or her.”

  The couple must be searching for Antonio. And they knew ab
out her. Had they seen her in the apartment, or had they seen her earlier, with Antonio? Rebecca wasn’t helping Antonio. She had only agreed to check his apartment and bring him the book.

  Her heart began to race. She was all alone in Italy. A few days before she had been in a dream, but now she was descending into a nightmare.

  The couple were compellingly charming, like Antonio. Why did they say Antonio had ‘the knowledge’? Who was Antonio and who were they?

  Rebecca paid the bill and stepped quietly into a passage through the old town. After a moment she realised she had not come this way before. Two sets of steps branched off before her. She climbed one, and found herself in an unfamiliar square. Instead of going upwards, the lane descended again. She came out of another archway further down the beach. Her heart began to race, as she realised she had no idea how to get back to the car.

  Her phone rang and she saw Antonio’s number.

  “You’re here,” he said.

  “Yes,” she felt a rush of emotions - anger, relief and curiosity, “Where are you?”

  “On the beach.”

  “In Amalfi?”

  “No, Positano. Straight ahead. I’m waiting.”

  The phone dimmed. How did he know she would come to Positano?

  She stared across the beach and saw Antonio sitting near the water’s edge. She walked over the sand and sat next to him. He wore a white shirt and casual pants.

  “Rebecca,” he smiled.

  He looked handsome but very tired. More than that, he looked different. Her heart ached to see him, but anger was her main emotion.

  “Where have you been, Antonio?”

  He closed his eyes and faced the sun. The sun seemed to shine through his skin. He had an air of great tranquility.

  “I should not let the sun shine on me. Particularly the sun on this part of the coast.”

  “You could do with some sun. Where are you staying? I have to give you the book.”

  “Did you bring it to Amalfi?”

  “Yes. And why did you say you were staying at the Palazzo Ombre? The place is a ruin.”

  “Are you sure? You were lucky you came by day.”

  “What do you mean? Are you staying there or not?”

  “Yes. And I am not the only one who lives there.”

  Rebecca felt a chill, despite the warm sunshine. She glanced at the umbrellas of the cafe in the distance.

  “I saw the couple from Rome again. The ones who were in your apartment,” she said quickly.

  A frown flickered over his brow, as though this news was unexpected and annoying, “In Positano?” he turned his head toward the town.

  “Yes, in the restaurant back there. They are looking for you.”

  “Looking for me? Why now?” he said to himself, “Let’s go for a walk,” Antonio rose to his feet.

  At the end of the beach was a path, which led into the forest at the base of the cliff. They walked in silence for a while, as the path grew wilder, and there was only the sound of the breeze in the trees and the splashing of the sea. They reached a quiet cove. There was sunny spot among the rocks, where Antonio sat down again. Rebecca sat on a rock opposite him.

  “I feel a great weight off my shoulders now,” he said, “Like in an ancient myth, when the monster is slain and the servant is finally free. Although the monster isn’t fully defeated yet.”

  “Antonio, I don’t think you are well.”

  “I have not been well for a long time.”

  “What happened to you?” Rebecca went to touch his face. He seemed to be fading again.

  “Now or long ago?”

  Rebecca tried to shake off a feeling of unease.

  “I wasn’t always like this,” Antonio said, “When I was young, I was fearless and brave. But my life changed, and I saw many terrible things. I began a descent. A descent into the underworld.”

  “What are you saying? You are young, Antonio. You are barely older than me.”

  He gave her a strange smile, “Not everything is as it appears,” he gazed across the sea, “I wrote down my confession, but can I save myself from damnation? I can no longer face the sun. Isn’t that proof that I am damned?”

  “I’m pretty sure you are not damned.”

  “If only I had been content with a simple life.”

  “Antonio, you are fine.”

  “Fine?” A frown creased his brow, “Do you know that there are potions in this world that can make us live forever? They stop the molecules from aging, so that we appear young for centuries. The people who discovered these potions kept them secret. What sort of world would it be if this knowledge were known? What sort of greed and power struggles would consume us? And even if we stop the body from aging, what about the soul? Do we have the right to be immortal?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I am speaking the truth,” Antonio faded again. Just like the shadow on the beach in Amalfi and the shadow she had seen in the passageways.

  The sunlight glittered on the water. It was easy to forget the world in this secluded cove.

  “Paracelsus,” she said, “Fulcanelli and Flamel.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You wrote those names in your studio. The names of scientists who -”

  “Who discovered great secrets,” Antonio said, “The elixir of life. And then potions that release us from the elixir of life. Potions that allow us to return to the air, to resume the path that God and nature intended for us.”

  “You said there is no elixir of life. Remember, when we were at dinner?”

  “I also said to be careful when magic falls across your path.”

  “Antonio, come back to Amalfi with me. And have something to eat. When have you last eaten?”

  “A long time ago,” he said, with a sad smile, “These potions are dangerous. That’s why they - the true alchemists - hid their secrets. And they play terrible tricks on those with the audacity to steal their secrets. Whether by curiosity or avarice, they know which of us are undeserving of the magic.”

  She knew this was absurd. But then it was also absurd that Antonio looked so much like the apprentice in a picture in an art gallery from 1761. Albert Price, the scientist and his apprentice.

  Then she thought of the dark wood around the Palazzo Ombre. Why did Antonio say he was not alone? Who lived there?

  “Please, Antonio. Stop this and come back with me.”

  “I cannot. I will no longer be his servant,” Antonio said, “Nor make the elixir he needs. You were in danger and I saved you. So I have done one good deed, at last. He will be weakened and he is so weak now, it might destroy him.”

  “Otto von Schumann?”

  “Yes, Schumann. And by saving you, I have freed myself.”

  Antonio was almost translucent.

  “Did you read the book?”

  “You told me not to.”

  “Now you can read it and know everything. But leave the Amalfi Coast. I told him you would come to the Palazzo Ombre. I did not lie - for you came yesterday, in daylight. But he is expecting you. He will be angry when he knows what I have done.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Antonio gently pushed a strand of hair from her eyes, “Your love gave me strength. I knew you would lead me out of the darkness. That last evening in Rome, I believed there might be another way. That for all my sins, I might be given another chance and start afresh with you. But then I heard him coming, and I knew I had only one choice. I had to go ahead with my plan.”

  “Antonio, please, let’s go back together.”

  “It’s too late. I have drunk the elixir of the elements. I knew I had to, when he came to Rome. I drank the elixir of life long ago, but it does not work forever. I am dying. And though I may be punished in another world, hopefully rescuing you, will redeem me.”

  “Antonio, I don’t believe any of this.”

  “Really? Many years ago, when I was a boy in Naples, I stood before the sea like this. I watched the sailin
g ships upon the bay. It was a different century and a different life. I want to stand in the sunshine again. It is time to rejoin my natural path.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. He walked slowly to the edge of the rock. The turquoise sea swirled beneath him. He bowed his head, then looked into the sun. He shimmered and began to fade.

  “Antonio?” she called out.

  “Now do you believe in alchemy?”

  And then he began to swirl in the coastal breeze, like smoke.

  Suddenly, he was gone and she was all alone.

  “That is all I can tell you,” she heard his voice on the wind, “Read the book.”

  Something stroked her face, like an angel’s wing.

  “Do not worry, Rebecca,” she heard his faint voice, “I’m free. If you want to know the truth - read the book.”

  chapter ten

  Rebecca stood alone in the cove. What had she just seen? Logic told her that Antonio had just been standing in front of her. They were all alone. He must have fallen off the rock into the sea. She would have to tell the police. Not only did she have a stolen book in her possession, but now she had a missing person and a body to find.

  But deep down, she knew that was not what she had seen. Antonio had faded away. He had told her about potions that extended life and those that returned him to the elements. He hadn’t fallen. He had joined the air.

  Hadn’t he been fading since that afternoon in Piramide? Or had it started in the Pincio Gardens, when she had first met him with Jane? He had shimmered in the sunlight, just as he had shimmered in the Forum that evening.

  The afternoon was tranquil. Something strange had happened, which defied all her beliefs.

  And the only explanation he had given was: Read the book.

  Rebecca stared around the cove one last time. The sea swirled on the pebbly beach. Antonio had gone.