The Alchemist of Rome

by M C Dulac

  “I wish you would give me a gold coin.”

  “I will give you as much gold as you like, when all this is over.”

  I had not thought that Price was such a fool. I was embarrassed to remain there, but I feared what else Price would tell her about the ships and our plans. I crept along the terrace, and found a rock on the drive. I tossed it into the bushes near the seat. They both looked terrified. Carissa jumped to her feet.

  “You must go,” Price said, “Until tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow, darling,” she kissed his hand. Reaching out her slender arms, she ran down the steps to the lawn.

  There would be no tomorrow, I thought.

  Price did not see me. He stood on the terrace, watching Carissa running through the night. He ran his hand over his face and rubbed his temples. Little did he know the real danger he was in.

  Somehow, I had to convince Carissa that the ships were not coming. I would go to the villa tomorrow, and tell her I had a message from Price. I needed to tell her enough lies to give us time to escape. Perhaps I could even convince her to leave the villa the following evening, so she would not see the Duke’s ships.

  My plan was not clear, but I was certain my lies would come easily, once I saw her face-to-face. The next morning, I rose early and ran to the lawn beneath the villa. I waited for an hour, but Carissa did not take her usual stroll around the terrace.

  There was a noise on the gravel drive. I peered through the hedges. Carissa and her uncle were getting into a carriage. The carriage raced through the gates and along the road toward the town.

  Why had they chosen this, of all days, to go into town? At least Carissa did not carry the book. Perhaps she had not yet read it. I considered searching the villa, but the risk of being caught by the elderly servant was too great. I ignored my thudding heart as I returned to the palazzo.

  When I arrived, a letter was waiting. The minx hadn’t sealed it, so I opened it before I delivered it to Price. Carissa wrote that she would not come for lunch as planned, as she had an errand to run. She assured him she would see him soon.

  I gave the note to Price. He did not seem concerned. Her childish writing made him smile. I, however, wondered what treachery she was planning.

  So much was in motion, and I had no power to stop it. Price’s possessions were in the cellar, ready to be packed away and returned to Rome. The men had taken all the gold to the cove. When I climbed down the pirate steps, the Duke’s men were swarming along the dock. Flares had been lit in the walls, revealing ancient beams and carvings. A team of men was clearing the moss and another team was scraping barnacles from the sea walls. The crates of gold were piled neatly along the waterfront. We were ahead of schedule and the mood was jovial. Price checked all the crates and the Duke’s supervisor inspected the dock. The day wore on and the sun shifted in the sky. At last we had nothing more to do. All eyes were on the sea, waiting for the fleet to arrive.

  Price retired upstairs. I went to my room too, for I was tired and my nerves were jangled. I waited and watched until the sky turned violet.

  It was a perfect evening. There was not a cloud in the sky and the sea was as flat as a mirror. At last I saw movement on the water. The first ship glided across the bay and sailed into the cove with barely a ripple. More ships appeared on the horizon. I heard the voices of the men, echoing up the cliff face. I was glad the boxes of alchemist’s gold would soon be gone.

  The shouting continued and suddenly the tone changed. The shouts turned to screams. A puff of smoke rose from the cove. The voices got louder.

  I ran to Price’s room, where my master lay in total darkness.

  “Master, the ships are here.”

  Price stirred, “I must get down to the cove.” He rose from the bed and winced as he opened the shutters.

  “It is still daylight.”

  “The ships are coming from the north, sir.”

  “From the north? But the Duke’s fleet is sailing from the south.”

  Price pulled on his coat. He ran down the stairs. I followed on his heels. We ran onto the terrace. The air was full of acrid smoke. Three ships were lined up in the water beneath the palazzo.

  “That is not the flag of Sicily, Antonio,” Price whispered, “That is the flag of Naples. And they are not cargo ships.”

  “What are they?”

  “Warships.”

  Price’s knuckles were white. We ran to the cellar. It echoed with the cries of the men in the cove.

  We stared down the shaft, and heard the clash of swords and the ricochet of gunshots.

  “We must jam the pulley,” Price said.

  “And leave them down there to die?”

  “They have weapons. We do not. They are fighting men so they will have to fight,” Price cut the rope.

  “What will we do, master?”

  “Check the main gates are secure, Antonio.”

  I tore up the stairs, through the halls and across the gravel drive. The gates to the palazzo were closed and I tied a chain around them tightly. I heard a girl’s voice near the hedge, and spun around, fearing it was Carissa.

  Instead, it was Louisa, the girl who sold lemons in town.

  “Antonio!” she cried, “The town is full of troops. They are coming for the magician.”

  “My master is not a magician.”

  “We all know what he is. I have come to warn you - the troops are coming!”

  “You better be speaking the truth!”

  “I do speak the truth! Run away, Antonio! They will capture you too!”

  “If you are lying, you will burn in hell for this!”

  “It is the truth.”

  She was scared and she ran away with tears in her eyes. Dust was stirring in the distance. A troop of men was coming toward the palazzo. Maybe she had come to save me. Carissa’s treachery had made me bitter and wary. I hoped Louisa would get away. But I did not need to worry; she was a clever girl. She had not taken the main road, but was running fast through the lemon groves.

  I raced down to the cellar, “Master! Master! Troops are coming!”

  Price spun around, “We have been betrayed, Antonio,” he grabbed a flare from the wall, “We must destroy everything!”

  He dragged the table to the centre of the room. He opened the packing crates and threw the books onto the floor. He lit another flare and it rose before our eyes.

  “Quickly, they must not find these books. Grab those bottles too.”

  I nearly knocked over the shelf as I grabbed the bottles. Price began to throw the powders on the fire, and they exploded in sickly-sweet smoke.

  The noise from the cove was deafening. I imagined the crates of gold being loaded onto the boats and heading for Naples.

  Price breathed deeply, “The warships are in the cove and soldiers are climbing up the cliff. Troops are coming along the main road. Is there any other way out, Antonio? Is there a road near the villa?”

  “No, the cliff drops down to the sea. But there are paths through the lemon groves. They may lead to the mountains. Master, I think we should go. They are going to arrest us.”

  “Yes, but not before we destroy everything in this laboratory. Quick, Antonio, bring the elixirs. We will pour them into the garden.”

  “Can’t we pour them down the drain?”

  “Not unless you want the palazzo to go up in smoke.”

  There were six elixirs. I tried to grab them all at once but Price cried out, “Antonio, I told you, they are very, very volatile. Carry two bottles only. And do not make any sudden movements.”

  It was hard to keep calm as we carried the elixirs upstairs. Price found a spot at the edge of the lawn, and we poured the elixirs onto the earth. One sizzled, while the others glistened. When every drop was drained, Price threw the bottles over the cliff.

  “Bring the other two elixirs here, and do exactly the same thing. Let no drop be found,” he ordered, “I will light the fire in the cellar. Come quickly.”

  But standing in ou
r path, a vision of innocent beauty, was Carissa. She wore a pale pink dress and her hair was loose. She reached out her lovely hands.

  “Darling, the troops are coming. Please, take our carriage! It is waiting.”

  “Carissa, you must leave at once!”

  “I don’t care what you have done, Albert. You are our friend. But quickly, we do not have much time.”

  “Carissa, you are in great danger! You must forget me.”

  “Come with me, Albert!”

  Price hesitated.

  “It is your only chance!”

  There was a great noise behind us. The troops were battering down the gates. Boots crunched over the gravel and the first soldier appeared on the terrace.

  Carissa ran forward and grabbed Price’s arm. I glimpsed a gate in the hedge.

  “Master, there is a gate to the road,” I whispered, “Take it now, and head for the lemon groves. Run towards the mountains and don’t stop running!”

  Carissa shot me a glance of pure hatred. She held Price’s hand tightly, “No, do not go that way! This way, Albert, our carriage is waiting.”

  “Antonio is right, Carissa. I must go.”

  “No, Albert, the troops will catch you. Come with me!”

  “Master, do not trust her!”

  “Shut up,” she hissed, “This way, Albert.”

  “Head for the gate, master.”

  Price swayed on his feet. He had a clear run to the gate. The path to the mountains lay directly ahead. It was the only way out.

  “Antonio, destroy everything in the cellar,” Price said under his breath.

  “Yes, the servant and I will do that,” Carissa said, “Now come this way.”

  She was growing desperate.

  “I love you, Carissa,” Price told her.

  “Master, run to the gate!” I cried.

  Perhaps if Schumann had not been so confident, he would have waited behind the trees at the end of the lawn. Instead, he peered forward and that one movement revealed his distinctive corn hair. He tried to hide. But now we saw more boots under the trees and the point of a rifle. There must be a dozen soldiers there. Carissa was leading us into an ambush.

  Price stared at Carissa with horror. She saw his expression and hesitated. Then she fell to her knees and kissed his hand. The sight made me sick.

  “It’s a trap, master. She has been lying to you all the time,” I ran forward and pushed Price toward the gate, “Follow the trails. Run!!”

  “Destroy everything, Antonio. They must not find the elixirs!”

  “Yes, yes, now go.”

  Price stared at the soldiers and cast a final horrified glance at Carissa. Then he began to run. He reached the gate. There were no soldiers there yet. He raced across the road and darted into the lemon groves.

  Schumann ran out of the trees and roared.

  “He went through the gate, Otto,” Carissa cried.

  I turned around and raced up the steps to the palazzo. I tore down to the cellar. I tipped the entire shelf of powders into the smoking fire and coughed as they exploded. I kicked the books into the embers and then reached for the elixirs.

  I had no time to take them to the garden. Could I pour them down the drain, or would the palace explode? I could not even remember which one I had drunk. Was it the blue one or the green one?

  I poured the blue one down the steps into the cove and saw the incandescent droplets land in the swirling sea.

  The soldiers were shouting in the halls above. Schumann’s deep voice boomed over the others. He was coming down the steps to the cellar.

  “Everything,” Schumann bellowed, “Get everything. The magician has escaped but we have his workshop.”

  So Price had escaped. Thank heavens.

  But I had no place to run. Schumann grabbed the last elixir from my hands.

  Then the soldiers advanced with their chains and I felt the blow of a rifle butt, and everything faded to darkness.

  chapter seventeen

  When I opened my eyes, the sky was bright blue and my lips tasted of salt. I was swaying with the movement of splashing waves. I tried to shield my eyes from the sun, but my hands were tied. My feet were bound too, and I could not sit upright. I realised I was lying in the bottom of an open boat. For a moment I was confused. Then I remembered the last minutes in the cellar: the glowing elixir, the marching boots and Schumann’s voice, then the soldier advancing with his rifle. I winced as I felt the throbbing blow on my skull.

  Two soldiers blindfolded me before we landed. From the sounds on the shore, I guessed we were in Naples. I was forced into a covered cart which rocked through noisy streets. When we ground to a halt, I felt the heat of the sun before my captors dragged me into a building. We walked through a long hall and then descended so many stairs, my head became dizzy. All around I heard groans and the clanging of chains. The stench was sickening. The place we reached had a death-like chill. A key rattled in a lock and gates were opened. I heard trickling water and smelt moss and mold. Another door opened and I was thrown forward. Someone pulled off my blindfold. It was pitch black, but I knew where I was - in a dank cell at the bottom of a prison.

  I stayed in the cell for several weeks. I made out the shape of beetles and rats scuttling in the filthy hay on the floor, and the shiny incandescence of water seeping down the walls. My fine coat was soon covered with tiny spores of mildew which glowed before my eyes.

  I had no cellmates, nor were there other prisoners nearby. Neither my family nor a priest visited me. No one told me of my sentence; maybe I was waiting for death. Often my heart raced and I was overwhelmed with despair and panic. But no guards came when I screamed or yelled. The world had forgotten me.

  At last, after days of darkness, there was a noise outside my door. A breeze blew through the passage carrying rot and decay. Footsteps came closer and I smelt the oil of a lantern.

  “He does not eat or drink. Yet he lives,” a guard said.

  “It is the magician’s power,” said Schumann.

  The door to the cell opened. Schumann stood by with the guard. The lantern gave them a ghoulish air.

  “He is coming with me,” Schumann said, covering his nose with his cloak.

  The guard unlocked the chains around my hands and feet. He dragged me through the door and into the endless passages of the prison.

  In the courtyard, the guards poured a stinking mixture through my hair to kill the lice and bugs. They burnt my clothes in a fire. Dressed in rags, I was led to a covered cart. I was blindfolded again, forced to use my senses to guess where I was going. At first the streets were full of voices, horses and carts. Then the light faded as we rolled through a passage and after that the road was quiet. The breeze was fresher, carrying the scent of grass and olive trees. We followed the road for some time, until the cart rolled over gravel and came to a halt. My blindfold slipped as the guards pulled me out of the cart. Before me was a villa I had never seen before.

  A new set of guards led me through the servants’ entrance. I was pushed down steps and thrown into a cellar. There I saw the remains of Price’s laboratory laid out on a table. The covers of the books were burnt, but the pages had survived the flames. The remaining powders were lined up on a shelf by colour, as though whoever had saved the bottles knew no other way to organise them. The gold-making machine had been reassembled in the corner. Under a cloth was the bubbling green liquid.

  Someone had been doing their own experiments nearby. The charred remains of a potion had burnt through a metal pot. The congealed mixture stank of rotting fish.

  The guard had locked the door. The single candle in the cellar burnt down to a wick and then went out. At last, when I was certain I was forgotten again, the door opened.

  The man who entered the room carried a candelabra. Behind him I heard the rustle of fabric. A familiar perfume wafted through the door. It took me back to the afternoons in the palazzo with Gianetti and Carissa. I realised Carissa and Schumann were my visitors.

 
; Schumann attached the candelabra to the wall and sat on a chair in the shadows.

  “He has not changed,” Carissa said, “Although he has been starved for a month.”

  “That is because he drank the elixir of life,” Schumann said.

  I said nothing.

  “Did you drink the elixir?” Schumann asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did Price allow it?”

  “No.”

  “When did you drink it?”

  “In Rome, one night.”

  “Why did you drink it?”

  “I was curious. I had seen my master drink it several nights before.”

  “There were two bowls in the cellar,” Schumann breathed heavily, “One was empty because you had tipped the contents into the sea. The other is in that bowl, under the cloth. Which one did you drink in Rome?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Schumann rose slowly. He took the cloth off the bowl. His face was sickly in the green glow of the elixir.

  “The servant lies,” Carissa said.

  “Do you ever stop lying?” I scoffed.

  She got up to strike me, but Schumann held her arm. She muttered a string of curses. In that instant, all her beauty and elegance melted, like paint washed from a canvas. She had always spoken carefully, as though she were hiding her real accent. But the words she spoke now were coarse and her Naples accent was heavy. She wasn’t an heiress. Who was she?

  She must have realised I knew, for she spun away, pacing the cellar. But I had the feeling she didn’t care any longer. Something more important must have happened.

  “Did Price teach you his secrets?” Schumann said.

  “No, sir.”

  “He lies, Otto!”

  Schumann ignored her, “These are Price’s books and his equipment. I have tried, without success, to make the elixir of life. Do you remember anything Price told you?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I swear, I know nothing of Price’s work.”

  “Then I will return you to the prison.”

  My throat clenched as I remembered the stench of the cells.

  “There is no need for misplaced loyalty,” Schumann went on, “For what has Price done for you? He has disappeared completely - slunk into the mountains like a wolf. He does not care what happens to those he leaves behind. He was making gold, Antonio, and you were helping him. That is a crime and you have been sentenced to death. It is only my appeals to the King that are keeping you alive.”