The Alchemist's Door

by Lisa Goldstein

  Taking his cue from Kelley he rented a house for them, though it was by no means as grand. His money was dwindling rapidly; if he did not find a patron soon he did not know what would happen. He could not return to England; it was clear he could only learn more about the demon in Prague.

  Jane’s time came in the middle of February and he sent for the midwife he had hired. After a few nerve-wracking hours of waiting he was ushered into Jane’s room to find he was the father of a baby boy. They named him Michael, as he had planned.

  He thought carefully about Michael’s baptism. Some of the sects of the Czech Brethren were close to his own faith, but Dee, remembering the Catholic church they had visited on Christmas day, chose the church of St. Vitus instead. He did not think too closely about his reasons for this; he knew only that he was coming to understand why some men needed a priest standing between themselves and God. Or between themselves and God’s enemies, as in his case. The Catholics, unlike the Anglicans, still had the rite of exorcism.

  On March eighteenth he led his brood to the cathedral. It was every bit as splendid as the churches he remembered from King Henry’s day, before Henry had ordered them all destroyed. He stood admiring the huge vaulted nave, the frescos and stained glass windows in muted red and gold, the mosaics of precious gemstones. Only when Michael was safely baptized did he allow himself to think about the demon, and about what he had feared might happen to his youngest child. For a brief moment he felt secure, sure that no demon could break through those barriers of sanctity.

  The next day, Doctor Hageck’s son came to call on them. One of Rudolf’s messengers had left a note for Dee at his old lodgings, the boy said. Dee opened the note and pursed his lips in surprise, then called out for Jane. King Rudolf had summoned him to the castle again.

  THIS TIME THE LORD CHAMBERLAIN LED HIM THROUGH ROOM after room, each one larger and more impressive than the last. All the rooms displayed bits and pieces of Rudolfs collections, what Dee now knew was called the Cabinet of Curiosities. They passed armillary spheres and unicorn’s horns, maps and books and clocks and chalices. Several times Dee saw something he would have liked to study more closely but the chamberlain urged him on, moving so quickly that all the wonders passed in a blur.

  Finally they came to a vast antechamber. Murals of gods and goddesses covered the walls and ceiling, the women plump and naked or nearly so. Dee thought he could tell what kind of woman Rudolf preferred just from the pictures he displayed. A fire blazed in one of two great fireplaces, though it was nearly spring and the other rooms had felt warm enough without one. Spendthrift, Dee thought disapprovingly, remembering how he and his family had portioned out their wood to last them through the winter.

  Now he noticed that there was another man there, sitting in one of the chairs scattered around the room. As he came closer he saw to his displeasure that it was Rabbi Loew.

  Loew nodded to him and he nodded back. Apparently they were going to say nothing to each other. Good, he thought. That was the way he wanted it as well.

  A few minutes later the chamberlain ushered them both through a maze of hallways and into another room. It was the same room Dee had seen before, though the chamberlain had led them to it by a different route. There was Rudolf on his elevated chair, and there were his guards behind him. This time, though, another man stood to the king’s right. Kelley.

  Dee nearly stepped backwards in shock. How had Kelley gained Rudolf’s favor, especially after the disastrous prophecies he had made the last time? And why hadn’t he said anything about Rudolfs patronage the last time they had talked?

  “Master Kelley here has been telling me a great many interesting things,” Rudolf said without preamble. “The sort of things I need to know from my loyal subjects.” He frowned and looked at Loew, and Dee saw a look of fear pass over Loew’s face before he was able to control himself. The king could probably make things very difficult for the Jews in his realm.

  “Apparently the world depends on the lives of thirty-six righteous men, is that correct?” Rudolf went on. Loew nodded. “And you have discovered, using the showstone of Doctor Dee here”—this time it was Dee’s turn to nod–“that one of these men is here in the city, in Prague. Why wasn’t I told this from either of you?”

  “We didn’t know you thought it important, Your Majesty,” Dee said.

  “You didn’t know!” Rudolf said. “Something like this, happening in my own city, and you didn’t think I’d be interested? Fortunately I have men like Kelley to keep me informed of such matters.”

  Dee looked at Kelley, but the other man would not meet his gaze. “Let me see if I understand this rightly,” Rudolf said. “If this man dies before his allotted time then the world will end. Or, more properly, start over. Someone could seize control at the moment of this man’s death and refashion the world to his desires.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Loew said. “That is why his life is so important, why we must discover who he is and protect him. We cannot let him die now—if he does, as you say, our world may end.”

  “That is not what I said,” Rudolf said. “They say you are a man of learning, and yet in this matter you are as slow-witted as you are disloyal. I would like this man found, and then I would like him killed.”

  “What!” Dee said.

  “Are you questioning me?” Rudolf asked. “I will have him killed. Oh, don’t look so horrified—I don’t expect either of you to do it. I have men I can call on for this kind of work. No, I need you for other things. You must find this man for me.”

  Dee could keep silent no longer. He had to know, even if Rudolf took his life for asking. “Why, Your Majesty?”

  “It should be obvious,” Rudolf said. “I will be the one to mold the world into its new shape. Master Kelley and I are already studying what will be necessary.”

  “What shape will that be?” Dee asked cautiously.

  But the emperor seemed pleased to talk about his plans. “First we will get rid of my brother Matthias. I can’t have him killed—he has too many friends, and they would be quick to start a civil war if he dies. But I can make it so that he doesn’t exist, that he never existed. That he was never born to torment me with all his plots and plans, his machinations behind the scenes. He thinks I don’t know his designs against me, but I do.

  “Then I will make it so there is no death,” Rudolf continued. “Others will continue to die, of course, but not me and not those in my favor. I will live forever—then I will not have to meet God at my death. Or perhaps—perhaps I will make it so there is no God. No God but me. No sins but what I say is sinful.”

  Rudolf paused as if to gather his thoughts. For the first time Dee understood that the emperor was not just eccentric, as he had thought, but quite mad.

  “You will find this man for me, do you understand?” Rudolf said.

  Loew nodded. “Yes, of course,” Dee said, starting to feel relief. Was that all the king wanted, a simple promise? He could hurry home, move Jane and the children to Poland or somewhere safe, quit this haunted city of demons and angels … .

  Suddenly he saw a velvet bag lying on one of the marble tables. His scrying glass. He had thought he’d hidden it away after that last disastrous time they’d used it, but apparently Kelley had stolen it.

  Rudolf followed his gaze. “Your showstone, yes,” he said. “Such a thing should have been given to me in the first place. You will look into the glass, both of you, and find me this man.”

  “But I can’t see anything,” Dee said. “I have never been able to-”

  “Silence!” Rudolf said. “You will do as I tell you.” He motioned to his men-at-arms. “Take them to the Daliborka. We’ll start our experiments tomorrow.”

  THE GUARDS LED THEM OUT OF THE CASTLE AND DOWN A LANE past Rudolfs outbuildings, chapels and foundries and stables and a gunpowder magazine. They stopped at a squat round tower. Loew, beside him, sucked in his breath.

  One of the guards took out a rusted key and unlocked the door. T
he door groaned as it opened, the old iron protesting. “Inside,” said the guard.

  They found themselves in a tower of uneven stone. A dank chill rose from the floor. Water had run down the walls leaving dark stains: rust red, blood red, black.

  The guard dosed the door; they heard the key snick in the lock. Light came from a small window far overhead. Now Dee could see a raised circle banded with iron in the center of the small tower; he wondered what it was for.

  Dee sat against the wall and put his head on his knees. What would Jane think when he didn’t return home? Could he write to her, send her a note somehow? Surely they wouldn’t deny him that much.

  He looked at Loew, who was pacing restlessly in the small room. Undoubtedly Loew was worried about Pearl as well. A wave of fellow-feeling rose up in him, and for the moment it did not seem that important that they had quarreled the last time they met.

  “What are we doing here?” he asked, breaking the silence. The stone walls swallowed his words almost as soon as they were out. “Was King Rudolf serious?”

  Loew said nothing for a long moment. Finally he sat gingerly next to Dee and nodded. “He’s as mad as your alchemist friends said. It’s probably true that Matthias wants the throne, but Rudolf suspects plots and counterplots everywhere. Whether it’s the influence of Prague, of the spirits that are leaving their realm and coming here—” Loew shrugged. “How did Rudolf get the stone?”

  “Kelley gave it to him.” Dee shook his head. “He must have stolen it from me. I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

  “Your fault? Why?”

  “I brought Kelley to you—that’s where he learned about the thirty-six. I should have known from the beginning that he’d prove false. Jane warned me … .”

  “How could you have known, though? Your friend is very plausible—even I can see that.”

  Dee stirred as he thought of something else. “Kelley can’t see anything in the stone. If he could he would have already helped Rudolf. It was all lies, two years of lies and pretty stories. I should have realized. He told me once that a friend of mine died, but then later I learned that the friend is still alive.”

  “Some of it must be true, though. The part about the thirty-six men—we have no reason to believe that’s false. The number thirty-six appeared in other places. And then there’s your demon—it seems to come when Kelley uses the stone.”

  Dee shuddered at the mention of his demon. He had worn a thin cloak suitable for spring for his visit to the castle, and now he pulled it closely around him. “I can’t look in the stone for Rudolf,” he said. “You saw what happens.”

  He roused himself for the first time since they had been imprisoned. He spoke a few harsh words. The iron door rattied in its frame. Loew looked up, startled, then nodded as he saw what Dee was doing.

  Dee spoke louder. The door shook more fiercely, and something—a hinge, a nail—broke with a sharp crack. The door strained against the lock, the iron squealing.

  The lock held firm. Dee continued to speak incantations for a few more minutes, forcing the door back and forth in his frustration, but nothing gave. Finally he sank back, exhausted.

  For a long time he sat despondent, thinking about how Kelley had played him false. Once Kelley had made the world come alive for him; an angel lived in every object, in every word, so that even conversation became a miraculous act, an act of prayer. Now the world was empty; it had all been lies.

  EVENING CAME. THE HIGH WINDOW IN THE TOWER TURNED slowly dark; the flagstones they sat on grew colder. Just when Dee thought the emperor had forgotten all about them he heard the sound of the key in the lock and the door opening. Two guards came inside carrying a tray of food and a chamber pot.

  “Can we have pens and paper?” Dee asked one of them.

  The guard ignored him and set the plates down on the raised area in the center, one for Dee and one for Loew. “The king says you can eat this,” he said to Loew. “He says he doesn’t want you to starve, after all.” He and his fellow left, closing the door behind them.

  Dee’s plate held bread and chicken and sausage. He glanced at Loew, who was looking doubtfully at his meal. “What did he mean?” Dee asked. “Why wouldn’t you be able to eat that?”

  “We have our own dietary laws,” Loew said.

  What dietary laws? Dee wanted to talk further, to ask more questions, but he remembered the last time he and Loew had discussed Loew’s God. Finally the rabbi shrugged and murmured a prayer. They both knelt awkwardly before the raised circle and began to eat.

  After supper he stood and began to pace. “I have to write Jane,” he said. “She’s a sensible woman but she does worry. And Michael is barely a month old.” A terrible thought came into his mind. “Rudolf won’t do anything to my family, will he?”

  “Probably not,” Loew said. “But then I wouldn’t have thought he’d imprison us either.”

  “Wait—he doesn’t know we’ve moved. His message was delivered to our old lodgings. I’ll have to keep him ignorant—I’ll write to Jane care of Hageck. He’ll know to send it on.”

  Loew smiled grimly. “What about me?” he asked. “I’ve lived in the same house for years.”

  “I don’t know. God, I don’t know. If we don’t give Rudolf what he wants he’ll keep us here forever, or kill us. And if we do—if we do the consequences don’t bear thinking about.”

  Night had fallen outside. He was suddenly too tired to worry about Jane, about Kelley. He lay down on the flagstones and then, curling himself up to conserve warmth, he prepared to sleep.

  The stones were hard and uncomfortable and very cold. He could not remember a time since he had come to Prague that he had not been chilled to the bone. He would not be able to sleep here. He had lost the knack of it, had forgotten how one went about falling asleep. He would never sleep again.

  But when he next opened his eyes he saw pale light suffusing the high window, though none of it was strong enough to reach the floor where he lay. His bones ached, and for a moment he thought he would not be able to turn his head. Then, moving slowly and painfully, he levered himself up to a sitting position.

  Loew was finishing his breakfast. “The guards have been and gone already,” he said.

  “Did they bring us paper?” Dee asked.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  Dee ate his breakfast, then sat back against the wall. A short time later the door opened and two guards stepped inside, different ones this time. “Come,” one of them said. “The emperor wishes to see you now.”

  The guards led them back past the outbuildings and through the castle to Rudolfs throne room. Someone had prepared the wax tablets and set up the showstone on one of the tables. He looked around for Kelley and found him standing behind the emperor.

  “When did you steal the stone from me?” he asked, unable to contain his anger at Kelley’s betrayal. “And why don’t you use it yourself, have a few words with your angels?”

  Kelley said nothing.

  “Look into the stone,” Rudolf ordered.

  Dee prayed for a moment, then stared down into the stone’s glassy depths. “I see nothing,” Dee said. He looked up at Rudolf. “I have never been able—”

  “Silence!” Rudolf said. He turned to Loew. “Now you.”

  But Loew failed to see anything as well. The showstone was a piece of glass, prettier than most, perhaps, but glass nonetheless.

  Rudolf waved his hand. “Take them back,” he said to the guards. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

  “But we can’t see anything,” Dee said despairingly. “You might as well let us go home, you can see we’re no use to you—”

  “I might just as well keep you here,” Rudolf said. “You might see something someday, after all.”

  They were left alone for the evening and most of the next day, long enough so that Dee began to hope the emperor had given up on them. Then, as the weak light was fading from the high window, the guards returned.

  They were marched to t
he throne room again, and Dee was made to look into the glass. Once again he could see nothing there, nothing but the mute glitter of the candles.

  He thought of the demon Kelley had summoned. It was very close; he could feel it hovering in the far shadows of the room. They stood a heartbeat away from that other realm, a single step across the doorway. Why not, after all? Especially if the alternative was returning to their grim tower.

  He reached out. He seemed to have always known how to do this. The demon—his demon—leapt at him. He tried to deflect it, to turn it toward Kelley or Rudolf, but it engulfed him. He screamed in terror, and then, abruptly, his scream was cut off and he felt the demon take control of his voice.

  “So all the fools are here,” the demon said. Its voice was whispery and rasping; it sounded like stones on the shore grating together as a wave rolled out to sea. The two guards ran from the room. “King Rudolf, my compliments. You have surrounded yourself with the greatest group of rogues and lack-wits in the history of the world. Not one of them is capable of making his own breakfast, let alone the Philosopher’s Stone.

  “And Master Kelley.” Dee felt himself nod to the other man. “It’s good to see you again—I have a fondness for Judases. Tell me, how much did the emperor offer you to betray your friend? How much is that chilly house of yours worth?”

  Where is Loew? Dee thought desperately. Why doesn’t he recite the psalm? He felt himself drowning under the demon’s weight. He would lose consciousness, lose his soul, be unable to step back across the threshold into life and light and sound.

  “We are looking for the thirty-sixth righteous man,” Rudolf said. He seemed undaunted by the demon’s presence.

  “There are no righteous men,” the demon said. “There is no goodness in all the world. You are on a fool’s quest.”

  “It won’t tell us,” Kelley said. “It wants the same thing we do—to find the man and kill him and remake the world according to its wishes.”