The Alchemist of Rome

by M C Dulac

  “Yes, the elixir enhances physical appearance - perhaps as a way of helping an alchemist to survive in constantly changing places.”

  Rebecca looked at Elise and Champillon closely. Although their hair and skin were fairer, they were very similar to Antonio. When she had seen Champillon on the staircase in Rome, she had thought he and Antonio were related. They were distant family - not by blood, but through the elixir.

  “There were several bankers called Otto von Schumann in the nineteenth century,” Champillon went on, “They appeared in Venice, Amsterdam, London, Zurich and Munich. A secretive pattern of perpetual movement - one of the traits of an alchemist. Every Otto von Schumann was beset by a sudden illness, which worried his business partners. He never sought the treatment of a physician. Instead, he retreated to his estate on the Amalfi Coast and was rumoured to die. And then a new Otto von Schumann would appear sometime later. A man of sixty, with a resemblance to his father, although no one could recall Schumann having a son. He used his wealth to stop any questions. A fellow alchemist may recognise the pattern, but it is usually the burden of not aging, rather than sickness, that forces the alchemist to move continents or withdraw for a time. We also learned that assistants named Antonio had managed Schumann’s affairs for several centuries. The signatures on documents were so similar it was almost possible to believe they were made by the same man.”

  Elise leaned forward, “But we could not understand if Antonio had drunk the elixir of life, why Schumann had not taken it too. Albert Price had never mentioned an apprentice, so we began to suspect that something very strange had happened. In the realm of alchemy, that is never a good thing.”

  “So what did you decide to do?”

  “I went to the apartment one evening,” Champillon said, “I felt it best to talk to Antonio directly and alone. That was when I saw you on the staircase. Antonio was not there. The next time we returned, the door was ajar.”

  “When we saw Antonio’s drawings we knew for sure that he had drunk the elixir of life,” Elise said, “He had centuries of Rome on his walls. And then we saw the monstrous drawings of Schumann - or whatever Schumann had become. Schumann had drunk something, but it was not the elixir of life.”

  “What did you think?”

  “We were very concerned. Then we saw you run out of the apartment. We lost you in Rome. We knew Schumann had gone south to his estate, and Antonio was probably with him, so we came to Amalfi. Then you arrived.”

  “We were concerned Antonio would take you to the estate. But Antonio seemed to be playing a game against his own master,” Champillon reflected.

  “He told me to go to the palazzo in daytime,” Rebecca said, “When I saw the ruins, I would not go there at night.”

  “We thought we saw Antonio in Positano, but we lost him in the passages,” Elise continued, “Then we saw you both on the beach walking toward the cove. By the time we had caught up, Antonio had drunk the potion.”

  “What did Antonio drink?”

  “I believe it is called the elixir of the elements, or forgetfulness,” Champillon said, “I have read about this elixir in the ancient texts. It disperses the molecules in the elixir of life and returns us to natural time. If our time is over, it returns us to the elements.”

  The sun had risen over the cliffs and reached the cafe. Elise shaded her eyes. Her honey-blonde hair was glossy and she had a sparkling radiance that reminded Rebecca of Antonio. Rebecca was not afraid of Elise and Champillon, even though there was something strange about them.

  “It appears Antonio never had any intention of taking you to Schumann,” Champillon frowned, “And now there is no one to ask, because he has gone.”

  “Antonio sacrificed himself, for me,” Rebecca said.

  “Don’t grieve, Rebecca. Once you drink the elixir, your life is long. There comes a time when you wish to be returned to nature,” Elise said.

  “Why did you follow me this morning?”

  “We feared Schumann had summoned you to the estate.”

  Rebecca shook her head, “No, he is too weak now. I went by myself to see what I could find.”

  “Are you leaving Amalfi soon?” Champillon glanced toward the coach stop.

  “I planned to go back to Rome.”

  “Good,” Champillon said, “It is better for you to leave this place.”

  “That’s what Antonio said.”

  Elise paused, “I do have one question. What did you take from Antonio’s apartment?”

  “You mean the book.”

  “It was a book?”

  “It was the story of his life. He called it his Confession.”

  “Alchemists always want to write their stories,” Elise mused, “Would you mind if we read the book?”

  “Not at all. You can have it. I’ve been trying to get rid of the book from the moment I found it.”

  Rebecca slid the book out of her bag and placed it on the table.

  “If you already know the secrets of alchemy, why did you want to find another alchemist?” Rebecca asked.

  “We hoped he had found another way to live,” Champillon said.

  “Another way?”

  “Not to live forever, or to die, or to return to the elements, but to become what we once were. We wanted to know if it was possible to turn back time.”

  “Turn back time?”

  “To before we took the elixir, and were truly alive,” Champillon smiled, but his eyes had a deep sadness.

  chapter twenty one

  After Rebecca gave the book to Champillon and Elise, she wandered down the steps to the beach.

  She was in the very spot in which Antonio had been standing a few mornings before. She knew now that the apparition had been Antonio and it was his shadow that had led her through the passages of the town that rainy afternoon. He had been keeping her in Amalfi, away from the palazzo. Antonio had been fading away after making his decision - to escape Schumann by drinking the elixir of the elements and disappearing completely.

  She closed her eyes and listened to the waves. It would be so easy to disappear, a peaceful whisper drifted on the breeze.

  Was it fatigue, or something else that was lulling her to sleep? A sleep that was so seductive, from which she would never want to awake. She could hear the whisper on the waves, traveling quietly on the wind from the cliffs and across the deep blue water. Join us. But the whisper was faint, and getting fainter.

  The weakening heartbeat came over the wind and then stopped. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to find waves lapping before her. She had wandered to the water’s edge. As she watched, a shadow disappeared over the sea.

  Rebecca shook herself awake. She walked across the beach to the terrace where Champillon and Elise were sitting.

  “It is all here,” Elise said, as her eyes swept over the pages of the book, “The story of Albert Price’s years in Rome. How he sent his servant, Antonio, across the city in search of powders for experiments, always choosing different sources, so no one could learn his secrets.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Champillon said.

  “Price agreed to make gold for the nobility, but he continued his own experiments. He brought the elixirs to Amalfi. Then Antonio writes of the love affair that ended in betrayal. So it was Carissa who broke Price’s heart,” Elise spoke as though she knew parts of the story already, “Schumann had betrayed Price to the King, and the enemy fleet arrived to take the gold,” she turned more pages, “Then Antonio describes Price’s flight into the mountains.”

  “The years of his exile,” Champillon said, as though he knew Price’s story too.

  “That’s the last mention of Albert Price. Antonio writes of his capture and Otto von Schumann’s journey to Malta afterwards,” she paused, “The alchemist there told him there was no hope. But Otto continued his experiments in Valletta. Carissa had the idea of mixing the elixir of decay with blood. The first experiment killed her, but the ingredients had settled by the time Schumann returned. Antonio
and Schumann fled to Venice. And then...”

  Antonio had written of Schumann’s illness and threats, and of the final betrayal of the girl in Rome. The girl whose charcoal portrait he had drawn, Mi dispiace. Elise fell silent as she read the last pages.

  Elise handed Champillon the book. He began to read, his eyes racing over the pages as fast as Elise’s.

  “What is the elixir of decay?” Rebecca asked.

  Champillon rubbed his chin, “One branch of alchemy leads to the origins of atomic energy. The discoveries were so dangerous, the ancient alchemists never made them known. It sounds like Price was experimenting with radioactive liquids. No wonder Otto and the girl were dying.”

  “You mean they drank radioactive waste?”

  “Price would not expect anyone to drink it,” Elise said, “Believe me, Albert Price could be very absent-minded.”

  She spoke of Price as though she knew him well. Rebecca wanted to ask more, but Champillon continued.

  “The draught did not kill them immediately, but depending upon the strength of the elixir, they would have been dead within weeks of drinking it. Price was always meticulous, so it was likely the elixir was mixed correctly,” Champillon’s hand flipped through the pages so fast, it was hard to believe he was reading. He traced his finger over the text, “In Malta, Schumann found a way of disrupting the decay momentarily.”

  “Antonio wrote that he had almost restored himself.”

  “Schumann’s first elixir must have jolted him back to life. But he will never fully recover. His whole body is in permanent decline. The elixir is destroying him as much as it animates him.”

  “Could he use blood transfusions instead?” Elise leaned back in her chair.

  Champillon paused, and a frown wrinkled his brow, “I have read in the tales of vampirism, that there is a moment between life and death, where the life essence lingers between worlds. It is likely that is the essence that animates the elixir. It is strongest in young and healthy people. Schumann can only capture it if his victim dies in his presence. If there is any delay between death and the mixing of the elixir, the elixir will have no potency. Schumann may have killed the girls in Naples or in the olive groves, and then brought them to the palazzo. If he did, the life essence would have been gone. Maybe that is why he had to keep killing. He would not have understood why the elixir did not work. When he last fell ill, it appears that he took the girl - Mi dispiace - to his villa, and killed her there. That is why the last elixir was so potent, and has kept him alive until now.”

  “He is a mass murderer,” Elise said.

  “Can’t we tell someone?” Rebecca said.

  “Antonio has written a damning confession,” Champillon closed the book and laid it on the table, “But where is the legal proof of his guilt?”

  “Me,” Rebecca said, “I felt it, that first day in Rome. He had made a decision. And I’ve met Antonio, and seen the palazzo and read the book.”

  “What can you tell the police? A myth and a legend? Can any of that be used in the modern world? The realm where Otto von Schumann lives at the moment is beyond human comprehension.”

  “But surely we can do something,” Rebecca said.

  Champillon paused, as though he did not like what he was about to say, “Otto von Schumann is a very powerful man. More powerful than we are. He is very willing to exert his power with the authorities. It is too dangerous to confront a man of his influence directly.”

  “But we have to,” Rebecca said.

  “Of course, Rebecca,” Elise said. Rebecca saw her glance at Champillon.

  “What are you going to do?” Rebecca added.

  Champillon opened the book, and turned to the final page, “Schumann may have reached the end already. Antonio’s confession seems to assume his death will release them both. He planned this for a long time. It has been weeks since the illness set in. Schumann must be close to death.”

  “Although the elixir is unstable,” Elise turned the book towards her, “It does not work at a consistent rate. It appears to lose its effect suddenly and rapidly.”

  “It ebbs and flows,” Rebecca said. Just like the feeling she had had on the cliff that morning. She had felt the call pulling her forward, and then fading away.

  “We must see for certain that he is dead. But I need to know more about the elixir of decay,” Champillon said, “There might be something in my books in Paris.”

  “Do you think there is a cure?” Elise said.

  “I doubt it. But if Schumann isn’t dead, there might be something which we can do to stop him taking a life again.”

  “It is almost midday. Can you go to Paris and get back by tonight?”

  “I’ll need more time to research. We can go to the estate tomorrow night. It is best to see him here, in Amalfi, away from his security guards and staff.”

  “What if someone else goes near the palazzo before then?” Rebecca said.

  “The road is always deserted,” Elise said, “The palazzo has a notorious reputation. When we asked about it in Positano, we were told to stay away. In the old days there was the myth of the monster of Amalfi, but nowadays people think it’s owned by criminals. I doubt anyone would go up there.”

  “How can I help?”

  “You have given us Antonio’s book. That is all we need from now on.”

  Rebecca felt anxious, but she knew they were right. There was nothing more she could do. Elise and Champillon were the only ones who could confront Otto von Schumann. She had helped them so far. Her conscience should be clear.

  “Were you going to Rome?” Elise said.

  “Yes, I’m not sure when the next bus goes now.”

  “If you like I can come with you.”

  “I would like that,” Rebecca smiled, “Thank you.”

  “You have another book?” Champillon asked with interest.

  “Dante’s Inferno,” Rebecca took the paperback from her bag.

  “Ah, yes,” Champillon said, “Dante’s descent into hell and journey up to Paradise. He found himself midway through his life on an unexpected path.”

  “I haven’t finished it,” Rebecca said, “I’m not midway through life, I hope, but I lost someone I loved too.”

  Not just Laura, she realised, but Antonio too. Antonio had been her shadowy guide through this underworld, ensuring she got back up to the daylight.

  “I am sorry you’ve had to go through this,” Elise said.

  “Don’t forget he already found me. I was chosen,” Rebecca said.

  Elise frowned.

  “I was on a dark journey of my own when Schumann saw me in the piazza in Rome,” Rebecca rubbed her temples and then smiled, “But I’m not lost anymore.”

  * * * * *

  Elise helped Rebecca contact the hotel in Rome, which had a vacancy for the next two nights. She had missed the bus again, and grew so tired that Elise suggested she rest. Rebecca booked back into her hotel room and fell fast asleep. It was late afternoon when she woke. She had half an hour before the coach departed.

  She yawned and took one last glance over the town square. What had Antonio said in Positano? That he was free. He had made the final sacrifice. This time it was he, not an innocent, who would die for Schumann.

  He had looked so happy as he had faded away. All the burden was gone.

  Although he had left her in quite a situation. Was she truly safe? Antonio, whether alive or not so alive, was heartbreakingly handsome - and infuriating.

  Rebecca checked out for the second time that day and ran downstairs. Elise was sitting in a cafe near the Cathedral. She smiled as Rebecca approached.

  “Champillon is in Paris. He is already consulting our books. He has found a description of the elixir of decay and is experimenting now.”

  “Do you live in Paris?”

  “Yes, I suppose we have found a home there at last. But that’s another story,” Elise smiled. A loud rumble echoed across the square as a coach arrived, “It’s almost time to leave.”


  They would have to change in Naples, adding extra time to the trip. There was so much Rebecca wanted to ask Elise but instead they were suddenly busy checking tickets and connections. And did she have the right to ask questions? Hadn’t Antonio warned her of the dangers of the secrets of alchemy?

  “What are you thinking?” Elise said as they waited to board.

  Rebecca frowned, “I was thinking of what Antonio told me once, ‘Beware when magic crosses your path. You may live but you will live to regret it.’ ”

  Elise looked thoughtful, “Antonio was very wise. I wish we had met him.”

  Because they had booked at the last minute, their seats were not together. The coach climbed the steep road out of Amalfi. At first it traveled along the winding coastal roads, where the sunlight streamed across the water. Rebecca leaned close to the window. She was leaving this enchanted place, which had changed the lives of Albert Price, Antonio, Carissa and Otto von Schumann. Perhaps it had changed her life too.

  She glimpsed the islands off the bay of Naples, shimmering in the ocean haze. They descended onto the flat plain before the bay, arrived in Naples and waited for the next bus. The bus turned inland, joining the long modern highway that linked the south of Italy to Rome.

  Gradually the light faded from the sky and darkness swallowed up the fields and mountains. Trucks roared along the highway under the orange glow of streetlights. Signs indicated the roads heading to other cities and ports. They drove through the city outskirts and saw the lights of the suburbs. At last they reached the centre of Rome, where the monuments glowed in the night.

  Rebecca felt the fatigue that comes from a long journey. Elise came with her to the courtyard of the hotel.

  “When do you fly home?” Elise asked.

  Rebecca closed her eyes, “The day after tomorrow. Just as planned.” The circle was closing and life was returning to normal, “Are you going back to Amalfi now?”

  “I will stay the night in Rome.”

  “Could we meet tomorrow?” Rebecca said, “It’s just there’s so much I wanted to ask you.”