The Secrets of Life and Death

by Rebecca Alexander

The realisation trickled into Jack. ‘Oh my God, she’s going to kill Sadie, like Elizabeth Báthory.’

  ‘Not exactly,’ McNamara spoke quietly. ‘She’s going to kill Sadie because she is Elizabeth Báthory.’

  Chapter 49

  ‘One spell witches use to confound mortal men, is the charm of appearing more alluring and irresistible than any human woman. Her voice is that of a siren, her body of a courtesan, and she will seduce innocent men. She is to be feared, and I pray for freedom from such abominations and succubi.’

  Edward Kelley

  Handwritten epigraph in John Dee Propaedeumata Aphoristica (1558/1568)

  Ashmolean Museum

  Dee bent over his conjurations, written in fair Latin upon squares of vellum that the count had provided. The room was fugged with smoke and incense, and my master was experimenting with different combinations of rare gums and woods. I coughed a few times before he looked up.

  ‘I think I will get some air,’ I said, anxious to get away from the atmosphere the constant guards provided – a reminder that if we failed, our lives were forfeit. ‘If you can spare me.’

  ‘Go, go.’ He waved a hand towards me. ‘While you do so, think of the angelic exhortations, will you, Edward? We need to complete those …’ He bent back over his books.

  I walked past the guards to the corridor and out into the great hall, already being set up for the evening meal. A shouting from without, a female voice, called my curious nature to the door.

  A woman, heavyset but still young, was pleading with one of the captains of the guard. I couldn’t understand a word, but the way she cradled one arm in the other suggested a child. She pointed at the castle, tears running down her face, and shouted to men passing by.

  Beside the main doors, I saw one of the men who had kidnapped us, a young noble. I approached him, keeping my head high.

  ‘You, sirrah.’ I called in Latin, perhaps a little arrogantly, for he turned and scowled at me. Then his face cleared as he saw who it was. I pointed at the door, where the wailing was still audible. ‘Why does the woman cry so?’

  He shrugged, but his feet shuffled, giving away his disquiet. ‘She seeks her daughter, a girl working in the kitchens.’

  I bethought myself of the child in the coffin. ‘Where is the maid?’

  He half turned, his shoulders hunched away from me. ‘Who knows or cares? The vassals serve in any way they are commanded. Perhaps she is working.’ He shot another sly look around, maybe to see if we were overheard. ‘I ask no questions. It is safer.’

  ‘The children here seem so weak,’ I reported, and we listened to more shouted voices outside. Some were women but a few were angry men.

  ‘This is a cursed land,’ the young man whispered to me. ‘I come from the north, at Szatmár, and there we value our villeins, our vassals, as the source of our wealth and our armies. If they prosper, we prosper; if they starve, we starve.’

  ‘But here?’ I prompted.

  ‘Here hags are ennobled and we, who have the blood of kings in our veins, are reduced to the service of women.’ He spat the last word at me, and I saw his distaste for serving the countess.

  ‘Mayhap when the lady is healed …’

  He regarded me, with a look of wisdom beyond his years. ‘Here, the common people speak of monsters who live beyond the grave, feasting on the flesh of children, banishing God and his angels to the north. Evil spirits that take the form of wolves and hares and succubi.’

  I shuddered, having some experience of these demons in human – female – form. ‘Let God keep you and guide you,’ I said, ‘and grant that we both are able to go north.’

  He smiled without mirth. ‘God may direct me there, and I pray that he does. But you, sir, are guided by Satan himself, if you create an undead queen for these lands.’

  Chapter 50

  Sadie crouched on a tiled floor, gagging and choking. The woman had drawn a few sigils around her, but it wasn’t enough, and the taste of regurgitated cider and burger kept rising into her mouth.

  Her kidnapper was bent over the centre of the building, which was lined with scaffolding draped in plastic sheeting.

  ‘Where are we?’ Sadie asked, straining her head up. She tugged at plastic cable ties on her wrists, which were locked to more ties restraining her ankles. She had spoken before, but the woman paid no attention to her, just carried on working. It was a painful position to be hunched in for hours, and Sadie tried to keep her voice level. ‘I said, where are we?’

  ‘St Francis’s hospital.’ She sounded foreign, and uninterested in Sadie. ‘They are developing it into apartments.’

  ‘Oh.’ Sadie pulled her head up to see over the back of a wooden seat, a pew, she realised. There were stained-glass windows at the far end of the building, but it was too dark to see the design. ‘But this looks like a church.’

  ‘Yes, the hospital chapel. It is hallowed ground.’

  Sadie hunched back down, shaking with cold. She could see under the few rows of pews that remained, that the centre of the building had been cleared, and the woman was drawing on the floor.

  ‘I could help draw the sigils,’ she offered. Anything to get out of this position, she thought. ‘I’ve got a steady hand.’

  For many seconds, she thought the woman wasn’t going to answer, but then she replied, ‘These are different symbols.’

  ‘Really?’ She tried to keep her voice level, even as she tugged at her bonds. The skin gave way at the back of her wrist and started to bleed.

  The click of heels on the terracotta tiles meant the woman was moving – and getting closer.

  ‘Don’t struggle. I will make you more comfortable.’ The woman brought out a small blade, cutting the connection between the ties. She released all but the ones tying her wrists together. She half carried Sadie from behind the pews, while the blood throbbed its way back into her ankles. ‘Here. Sit down.’

  In the middle of an area that had been swept clear was a small office chair, in a circle of familiar sigils. Sadie sat in it, the nausea and weakness fading, and sneaked a glance around the walls. The woman’s face twitched into a smile.

  ‘You would die outside the building,’ she said. ‘Here. Drink.’ She twisted the top off a plastic bottle of water, and placed it in the teenager’s linked hands. Sadie gulped at the cool water, realising she hadn’t drunk anything since breakfast, and the light was waning outside. She looked around at the floor. The chair sat within a bigger circle, made up of unfamiliar symbols. Outside that were four more circles, each about five or six feet across, filled with shapes and letters. The woman was sorting through a bag, pulling out what looked like sticks. She was pushing them into round bases before Sadie realised what they were.

  ‘Black candles?’

  ‘The dried roots make them look black.’ The woman started twisting bunches of dried twigs together. ‘The candles will summon. They are all different.’

  Sadie looked down at the tickle on the side of her hand. Blood was seeping from under the cable tie. She raised her wrist to lick it off, but the woman snapped at her.

  ‘Don’t!’ She stood up, and walked towards Sadie. It was difficult to work out how old she was. One part of Sadie’s brain put her at around Felix’s age and aspects of her kept shifting in appearance, but another part was registering something grotesque and deformed about her. Her shoulders were at unequal heights, her neck projected forwards from a hump on her back, her hair was so wispy Sadie could see – or imagine – brown spots on her scalp. Yet the moment she spoke, Sadie could only see a kind of beauty. Her eyes were the one thing that remained the same, so light blue they were almost white orbs.

  The woman reached out long hands – twisted, bulbous claws one second, then manicured, pianist’s fingers the next – and took Sadie’s wrist. Her skin was as cold as the ground had been. She inspected Sadie with care, lifting her arms with cold fingertips to look all around the restraints. She took the small blade from her pocket again, snipping the last of
the cable ties. Then she licked her top lip, smiled slightly, and bent her head. She fastened her mouth over the oozing skin, and bit deep into the bleeding wound.

  Chapter 51

  ‘As the countess grows weaker, so the witch works harder to keep her alive. Zsófia spoke nothing to me after her wicked enchantment, but secretly smiles in a mocking way when she sees me. She did come to us to identify a herb, that soldiers had brought from Araby, hoping it will sustain her mistress, but it was common red root, and of no assistance. I thought her love for the countess was that of a sister, or even mother, but when I saw them together by the fire, awaiting his lordship’s return from hunting, I saw such caresses and kisses that a man might give a maid. I long for the simplicity of home, and civilization.’

  Edward Kelley

  16 December 1585

  Csejte

  That evening, Dee and I had drawn the last of the sigils on the ceiling and floor of the solar, and Dee was writing the ritual. A great banging on the locked main doors brought torches and soldiers to the outer wall. There was a party of men on horses, travelling south.

  We left the room under guard to keep people out. We didn’t trust anyone, least of all the witch, nor Lord Miklós, who seemed to be working against us. The chiming of the angel in my head had reduced to a soft hum, like distant singing. We looked out from the hall doorway, across the inner yard.

  The count, in his less formal dolman, and head uncovered, walked to the doorway to speak with the newcomers.

  ‘Father Konrad.’ His voice was hard with suspicion. ‘You take many risks riding in these hills.’

  ‘God keeps us safe,’ Konrad answered. ‘I must ask, however, if you can give us a place to rest, and to water and bait our horses. We head for Rome.’

  It was an unspoken rule, perhaps one that preceded Christianity, that no traveller be denied succour. Yet, for a long moment, I thought Nádasdy would refuse.

  ‘Perhaps one night,’ he conceded. ‘But I have troops arriving at any hour, and you must be away at daybreak.’ He beckoned to grooms who took the bridles of some of the horses.

  ‘You are very kind.’ Konrad dismounted, and bowed deep to Lord Miklós, who had followed Nádasdy. ‘I would also speak with the king’s brother, if he has time.’

  Miklós strode forward.

  ‘In private, my lord?’ Konrad asked.

  ‘There is little privacy in a garrison.’ Nádasdy’s voice was harsh.

  ‘Then I shall deliver your brother’s message before witnesses, Lord Miklós Báthory of Somlyó. His Majesty King Istvan hopes you are filled with your customary good health. He hopes and prays you recall your last conversation with your king, and begs you to offer my Lord Nádasdy all assistance. He bids me give you this note.’ He turned to us, standing apart, and bowed his head. ‘I must greet you also, Doctor Dee and Master Kelley. I am surprised to see you here, and hope you are well?’

  ‘Well, indeed, Reichsritter von Schönborn.’ Dee was calm. ‘We are also guests at Csejte.’

  ‘Perhaps, if your visit is ending, we can offer you an escort from the castle.’

  Dee shook his head. ‘Our families await us in Krakow, and we wish only to return there.’

  Konrad looked at me, and I fancied he knew something of what we were trying to do.

  The count beckoned to his captains. ‘Secure the priests’ men and lock the main gates.’ He turned to us. ‘You have much to do tomorrow. No doubt you will wish to rest.’

  Dismissed, we returned to our quarters.

  We heard no more until the morning, when a guard came to get us.

  ‘The priest wishes to speak with you,’ he barked at us, in execrable German.

  Unlike previous audiences on the ground floor, he escorted us through the chapel and unlocked the door I had found in my explorations. Far from leading to a chamber, it came onto steep stairs, spiralling down under the fortress. Torches lit the steps, stinking the air with burning tallow, and it was with relief that we arrived in a cavern hacked out of the bedrock beneath the castle.

  As my eyes took in rough stone, with iron bars and chains bolted to the walls, I realised we were in some sort of dungeon. My throat contracted, choking back any words to Dee. He looked at me, then around the cave.

  It was part man-made, with some mortared walls. Along one side were a number of small cages, with several prisoners in each. Clean-shaven men, they bore the marks of battle upon them, and I recognised their uniforms as those of Konrad’s guards. Some were wounded, it appeared, bloodstained and lying in filthy straw. At the end, as assured as if he stood before the king, was the tall figure of Konrad, crammed into a space barely two yards wide. His robes were torn, a bruise darkened one side of his face and a scrap of linen was tied around one hand.

  ‘Doctor Dee,’ he said, ‘and Master Kelley. I am glad to see you are well. We – the king and I – were concerned for your safety. As you see, Lord Nádasdy has concerns about the security of his citadel and has confined us. Some of my men resisted.’

  ‘Father Konrad.’ Dee bowed, equally polite. ‘I am sorry to see you in this condition. May we petition his lordship for your release?’

  ‘The Lord that I petition watches over me, even here. But I would be grateful for anything that will ease the suffering of my men, who are guilty of nothing more than loyalty to me and to the office I represent.’

  A clattering of boots on the stairs was followed by Lord Nádasdy and his personal guards.

  ‘Father Konrad,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid you must be detained until my wife’s treatment is complete.’ He turned to Dee and myself. ‘Father Konrad, who is driven by allegiance to the Pope, attempted to intervene in your work.’

  ‘And the Pope will be disappointed that his representative was attacked in such a fashion while asking for hospitality.’ Konrad’s voice was calm.

  Nádasdy’s lips thinned in a smile. ‘In these lands, a party of men demanding ingress to my stronghold, with weapons drawn, is not considered worthy of hospitality.’ He shrugged. ‘We are a small castle with a modest garrison, not forty leagues from the Sultan’s occupancy. We have to be cautious.’

  Konrad bowed. ‘Then I beg your forgiveness for rousing your people into such misguided loyalty. We are here on a mission of peace, so perhaps my men may be more comfortable? I ask as one commander to another.’

  Nádasdy looked at Dee. ‘Well, Doctor? He is your enemy, not mine.’

  Dee shook his head. ‘He is no enemy of mine, he is doing his duty as he sees it.’

  ‘Very well. Your men will remain confined, but I will send down food and healers. We can make them more comfortable.’

  ‘May we stay and consult with Father Konrad? He may have insights that can assist us.’ Dee smiled at Nádasdy, who glared back.

  ‘If you wish. But he stays caged.’

  Chapter 52

  Jack called the vet, but the dog still hadn’t regained consciousness. She held her coffee in both hands, trying to capture some of the warmth, but could feel the cold starting to slow her down. She felt helpless, not a comfortable feeling. She jumped when Charley touched her shoulder.

  ‘I’m going to have to go. Mum’s ready to go home. She’s got to rest, got to take it easy.’

  ‘Don’t tell her what’s going on. Say we’re both at Felix’s—’

  ‘She’s not stupid, Jack. She’ll work out I’m lying.’ She lifted a package wrapped in a large carrier bag onto the table. ‘I brought this, you might need it.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The sword. You know …’

  Jack did know. It was one of the items Maggie had inherited from her grandmother, along with the medals and papers. She unrolled the plastic, revealing the heavy scabbard, wound around with a cloth that started to crumble as she touched it.

  ‘I can hardly lift it.’

  Charley boosted herself on her hands to sit on the end of the table. ‘Do you remember looking at this when we were kids? Mum went mad, said it was worth a fortun
e. She said it was inscribed with defensive charms.’

  Jack slid the first few inches of the blade out of its sheath. It was protected by a layer of grease, the spine heavy and grey, each side of the blade engraved with ornate letters. ‘Do you think this is Dee or Kelley’s too?’

  Charley shrugged, and finished unwinding the cloth. ‘Even if it isn’t, it’s heavy enough to hurt someone. It probably needs polishing up.’

  ‘Sharpening, more like.’ The edge was dull, and there were patches of rust creeping along despite the grease. ‘So now we have to fight.’ A small part of her was angry enough to relish the thought. She pulled the sword right out and held it in both hands. It thrummed with some strange energy. ‘Maggie could have told us about the Inquisition.’

  ‘Yes, she could. But when did you ever want to know about our world?’

  ‘I think I would have wanted to know that a branch of the Vatican had been formed to exterminate all borrowed timers.’

  ‘Maybe she didn’t know that.’ Charley crossed her feet. ‘You know she loves you like a daughter. She’s just a bit overprotective.’

  ‘But that’s just it. She’s not my mother. She took me because she could use me to save you. The rest …’ The words crowded up in her throat, and caught. ‘I lost my family, everything.’ She swung the sword gently from side to side.

  Charley shrugged. ‘You know you’re being unreasonable, don’t you? You would have been dead. Is that how you feel about Sadie? Just good for spare parts?’

  ‘No, I …’ She thought about it for a long moment. ‘She was going to choke to death because of a stupid, pointless mistake. I couldn’t just leave her there to die.’

  Charley bit her lips, as if trying to stop herself saying something. ‘They are trying to work out where Sadie is. Mac and Felix. They’ve come up with some ideas.’

  Jack put the sword down on the table, drank her coffee and turned her back on Charley. The last leaves of a Virginia creeper clung in the lee of the window, in shades of scarlet and flame.