The Alchemist's Door

by Lisa Goldstein

  “You—it is true, then?” Marie asked. “The stories—they are true?”

  “Don’t be such an innocent. You knew what I do here ever since you joined my service. How could you not? You’ve seen the blood in the tub, heard the screams. You knew all the time.”

  “No,” Marie said, backing away, horrified. She said something rapidly in French; Dee thought it might be a prayer.

  “Well, you know now, so help me.”

  Magdalena twisted and managed to free her head. She bit down hard on Erzsébet’s arm. “Ow!” Erzsébet cried. “You little monster!” She brought down the hilt of the knife again.

  Dee moved forward. Marie saw him and her eyes widened. He motioned for her to leave the room but she stood there stunned, unable to move.

  He slipped in past her, grabbed Erzsébet’s wrist and twisted hard. Magdalena bit Erzsébet’s other arm, and Erzsébet, distracted by the pain, opened her hand and dropped the knife to the floor. Dee jerked her arm behind her back.

  “I’ve got the knife,” he said, though he was having a good deal of trouble picking it up and holding Erzsébet’s arm at the same time. “Stay still. You, Marie—go bring me some rope.”

  Marie stood, uncomprehending.

  “Rope,” Dee said harshly. “Hurry. Rope, to—to tie—”

  Magdalena slid from Erzsébet’s grasp, grabbed the knife from Dee, and held it to Erzsébet’s throat. Dee pantomimed tying a knot. Marie nodded and ran from the room.

  She returned with rope, and the three of them worked to tie her hands and feet. “You truly didn’t know,” Dee asked Marie.

  She shook her head.

  “What about the screams?”

  She shook her head again. “No—no there.”

  “What do you mean? You weren’t there?” She nodded eagerly. “They waited until you were gone?”

  “You knew, you stupid cow,” Erzsébet said, struggling against her bindings. “What about all the blood?” Marie said nothing, and she repeated the question in French.

  Marie answered her in the same language, speaking for a long time. Dee could make out some of it: that Erzsébet had told her that someone had been ill, that she thought a doctor had come to bleed the patient.

  “And you believed me?” Erzsébet asked in French, jeering.

  Once again Marie answered in French. Of course she had believed her, she said; she could not conceive that someone would do these things.

  “Why did you come back?” Dee asked Marie. “I thought you had gone hunting for the day.”

  Marie said nothing, but to his surprise Erzsébet answered. “I forgot my favorite hunting knife,” she said. “The knife I’ll use on you, as soon as I’m free.”

  “What do we do now?” Magdalena asked.

  “Now we go to King István and tell him what his cousin has been up to,” Dee said.

  “Don’t you think he knows?” Erzsébet asked. “He lets me do what I want. He can’t afford a family scandal.”

  “I wonder,” Dee said. “We’ll tell him anyway, and see what he says. There’s a body under one of the beds—maybe he’d like to know about that. Is it Judit?”

  “Of course not. Judit was a long time ago—she’s dead and buried by now. Though I have to say I miss her—she had such beautiful skin, nothing like that coarse peasant under the bed.”

  Dee pulled tightly on one of the knots and Erzsébet cried out. “Forgive me,” he said. He sounded insincere even to himself.

  “Don’t be so high and mighty, Doctor Dee,” Erzsébet said. “You call on the same magic I do.”

  “Nonsense,” Dee said. He tied the last knot and stood. “Come, let’s find King István.”

  “You do, though,” Erzsébet said. “You were the one who told me about the door between the worlds. I summon the powers I use by bloodletting—the blood makes them eager to come through the doorway. And how do you summon them, Doctor Dee?”

  “I told you—I’m trying to close the door, not to call upon whatever is behind it.”

  “I don’t believe you. There are things you can learn by opening the door wider and letting these powers come through. You could learn all the secrets of alchemy, you could have riches beyond counting. Even you wouldn’t throw away a chance like that.”

  “Let’s go,” Dee said roughly. He led Magdalena and Marie out into the corridor and down the stairs. Magdalena had not resumed the crone’s shape, he noticed.

  They found the king in the audience room, hearing petitions. He nodded to them but continued to listen to the men and women before him. Dee stood against a wall, trying to control his impatience.

  Finally István finished and looked up at them. “Yes, what is it?” he asked.

  “I—could you come with us, please?” Dee said. “It concerns your cousin Erzsébet.”

  “Erzsébet? She’s not hurt, is she?”

  Dee nearly laughed; a combination of horror, tension and relief was hitting him hard. “No, my liege, she’s not,” he said. “Please. This way.”

  He allowed István to precede him up the stairs and into Erzsébet’s rooms. With a shock he saw that Erzsébet was sitting on a couch in the front room, looking as fresh as if she had just gotten up. He glanced at her wrist and saw the scoring left by the ropes. How had she escaped? Witchcraft?

  Suddenly he remembered Anna. At the same moment Anna came out from one of the inner rooms and sat next to Erzsébet, smiling at them triumphantly. “István,” Erzsébet said. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit, my dear cousin?”

  “I’m not sure,” István said. “Doctor Dee? Could you explain yourself?”

  “This way, King István,” Dee said. He took a candle from the mantelpiece and led the party into the room where he had found the body. The smell had lessened, and suddenly he knew what they would find when they got there. He bent and looked under the bed anyway, but the space was empty.

  Dee stood. “I don’t understand,” István said. “Could you explain what you hoped to find here?”

  “I—I saw a body, my liege.”

  “A body? Do you mean someone was hiding in my cousin’s rooms?”

  “A dead body.”

  “What?” With a sudden gesture István took the candle and peered under the bed. “Are you mad, man? Why would there be a dead body here? And how did you come to be in my cousin’s rooms, spying under her beds?”

  “She had captured my servant, Magdalena,” Dee said stolidly. He was fated to play this game out, he saw, though it could only end in one way, with his defeat. Already Erzsébet was grinning at him smugly.

  “And why would she do that?” István asked.

  “To drain her blood. The blood calls dark forces from other worlds—she admitted as much to me earlier.”

  “He knows a good deal about dark forces, doesn’t he?” Erzsébet said. “Why is that? He looks haunted by something, I think. Ask him what it is—ask him why he had to leave Prague.”

  “Where is my servant Judit? Ask her that. She killed her and—and—”

  “You go too far, my good doctor. I’m afraid I will have to ask you to leave—to leave my house, and leave Transylvania as well. I cannot have you make these wild accusations about my family.”

  “They’re not accusations, my liege,” Magdalena said. “She kills people, and bathes in their—”

  “Enough!” István said. Was there confusion in his face, just the slightest inkling that Dee and Magdalena might be telling the truth? “You, Marie—what are you doing with these lack-wits?”

  “Is—is true, my liege,” Marie said.

  “Are you all mad?” István said, staring at Marie. “You—I gave you refuge from religious persecution, allowed you to practice your own faith here in freedom, and this is how you repay me? I want you out of here, all of you.” He glanced at Magdalena and the confusion came over his face again; he was clearly wondering who this beautiful woman was and why he had never seen her in his household before. “You have one hour to pack up your things a
nd go. And be glad I do not have you prosecuted for treason.”

  “Yes, my liege,” Dee said.

  István strode from Erszébet’s rooms. Dee and the women followed. As they were leaving Erzsébet moved closer to Dee and put her mouth next to his ear.

  “It’s so difficult to find burial spots when I travel,” she said. “I hardly know the countryside at all.”

  He whirled to look at her, but her face appeared composed, as if she had never said a word.

  10

  DEE PACKED QUICKLY, MAGDALENA HELPING him. It was only when he finished that he realized he had nowhere to go. He was not welcome in Transylvania or Prague, or even Poland, where Prince Laski had been growing more and more angry at not having been made king.

  He felt cursed, condemned to wander the earth with no rest. Like the Wandering Jew, he thought, and reflected how ironic it was that Loew the Jew was snug at home, surrounded by his family.

  “What about Trebona?” Magdalena said.

  “What?”

  “You can go to Trebona, can’t you? Loew says that Count Vilém and Rudolf are feuding, so Vilém will never tell him where you are. And Vilém’s an alchemist—he’d love to talk to you.”

  “You read my mind, didn’t you?” Dee said, smiling wryly. “Very well, I’ll go to Trebona. I might even find Petr, Vilém’s servant. But what about you? You can go back home, if you like.”

  “I’m coming with you. I’ll be your servant.”

  “Oh, God. Look—you can’t even stay out of trouble for two minutes at a time—”

  “You need someone to protect you—”

  “I need someone? Who was it who ended up bent over the tub with Erzsébet’s knife at her throat?”

  “If it wasn’t for me you would have starved—you couldn’t even find the kitchen by yourself—”

  “I’d rather starve than have to worry about you constantly.”

  “I’m coming with you. If you don’t let me I’ll just follow you to Trebona.”

  Dee sighed. “Very well. But for God’s sake change back into an old woman. I can just imagine the scandal if I showed up with a young girl as my servant.”

  Magdalena looked surprised, as though she had forgotten what shape she held. She changed quickly.

  “I’m almost getting used to you doing that,” Dee said.

  They clattered down the steps of the castle. A guard at the entrance opened the iron gate for them. As they went through Dee saw Marie walking toward the town below them, carrying a large leather bag. He ran to catch up with her.

  “Marie,” he called. “Where are you going?”

  She looked back at him, her expression fearful. She relaxed when she saw who it was. “Prague,” she said. “I cannot—cannot to stay—”

  “Good,” he said. “We’re headed the same way. I’ll see you get there safely.”

  He took her bag, and the three of them went into the town and caught a coach heading to Bohemia.

  WHEN THE COACH STOPPED AT TREBONA, DEE AND MAGDALENA said farewell to Marie and got out. They looked around them; Count Vilém’s estate was as large as Loew had said. They passed a sawmill, a soapworks, and other outbuildings whose purposes Dee did not understand before they came to the manor house. Winter had come early this year; a chill rain drizzled down as they made their way to the manor house. He shivered and worried about Magdalena, whose response to the cold was to pile on more and more layers of clothing.

  The manor was made of gray stone, darker gray where the rain had washed it. The servant who opened the door looked at them doubtfully. Dee supposed he couldn’t blame him; he in his fur coat and Magdalena in her rags must look like beggars or Romanies, the people they had called “minions of the moon” in England. His bags had been scuffed and stained beyond repair by all his traveling.

  “I’d like to speak to Count Vilém, please,” Dee said.

  “What business do you have with milord?” the servant asked.

  “I am—I am an alchemist,” Dee said, and to his surprise he realized that that was almost true. “I come from England. My name is Doctor John Dee.”

  “One moment,” the servant said, and closed the door.

  “Do you suppose he’s gone to get the guards?” Dee asked.

  “Perhaps his orders are to tell Vilém about any alchemists who show up at the door,” Magdalena said.

  He wondered how she could be so optimistic, when her entire life had taught her such a vastly different lesson. But just then the door opened. “Count Vilém is expecting you,” the servant said.

  He led them through a number of rooms, each large and well-furnished but with none of the clutter or excess of Rudolfs castle. Finally the servant pushed open a door, said “Doctor John Dee,” and motioned them inside.

  Count Vilém of Rosenberg sat in a leather chair and indicated a chair opposite him for Dee. He was a large man, with thick white hair and a bristling white mustache; his face was reddened from working outdoors. No one seemed to notice Magdalena; she took a stool against the wall and settled back into the shadows. The servant bowed himself out.

  “Doctor John Dee,” Vilém said in German. “You are in Rudolfs service, are you not?”

  “No, milord,” Dee said.

  “No? That is not what I heard.”

  How much should he tell this man? “King Rudolf imprisoned me, milord. I would not tell him the results of—of some of my investigations.”

  Vilém smiled. “Good,” he said. “Well, you are welcome here, very welcome. I have a workshop you can use, and a room for yourself and another for your—” He glanced briefly at Magdalena. “—your servant.”

  “Thank you, milord. Thank you very much. I must ask a favor of you, though. It would please me if you do not mention to Rudolf that we are here.”

  Vilém laughed. “I had not intended to in any case,” he said. “Rudolf and I—well, we play an elaborate game. I pretend to be his loyal courtier, and he pretends to be my gracious king, and each of us searches assiduously for the Philosopher’s Stone without telling the other of his progress. To be honest, I fear for the kingdom if Rudolf discovers the Stone before I do. As I said, you are very welcome here.”

  Count Vilém proved as good as his word. He gave Dee a suite of rooms, a generous allowance, and a fully furnished workshop. Even better, he urged Dee to send for Jane and the children. “There is room here for all of them,” he said.

  For the first time since he had set out from England Dee felt able to rest, to take stock. It seemed to him that he could finally take deep breaths, could stop looking over his shoulder at something he felt to be gaining on him. In spite of the winter and the settling snow, it was only now that he felt truly warm.

  Jane and the family could not travel through the snow, so Dee celebrated Christmas with Vilém and his wife. Vilém was a learned man with a library to equal Rudolf’s, and they spent many evenings discussing treatises on alchemy and other branches of magic. Polyxena sometimes joined them and showed herself to be almost as well-read as her husband. She was a small woman, with fine features and dark black hair and eyes; she dressed more sedately than Vilém, in the browns and reds fashionable in Spain. Sometimes Magdalena came down from her room and sat quietly in the shadows as they talked.

  “So far,” Dee said one evening, “all I’ve learned is that I don’t know anything. I’m beginning to think that all my assumptions are wrong, that the alchemists we’re studying aren’t writing about turning lead into gold but about something else.”

  “What, then?” Vilém asked.

  “That’s what I don’t know. Something about—about the union of opposites. The books talk of the marriage of mercury and sulphur, but sometimes I think that’s only a code, that they’re hiding something important. That they don’t mean mercury and sulphur at all.”

  Other times he talked to Magdalena. She had discovered that Petr worked in the kitchens, and whenever Petr served a dish or cleaned up after a meal Dee studied him surreptitiously, wondering
if he was the one they sought.

  He asked Magdalena to talk to him as one servant to another, to discover what she could about him. There was little to tell, she reported. He and his wife, a ladies’ maid, lived in the servants’ quarters on the top floor of the house; Magdalena had a room down the hall from them. He kept mostly to himself, but once or twice, the other servants said, he had stepped in to resolve a quarrel, and had gained a reputation for being a fair and honest man.

  “You have not been entirely straightforward with me, Doctor Dee,” she said one evening, after she had reported on the latest events in the servants’ quarters.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I asked you to teach me magic you said you knew very little. And yet when I hear you talking with the count and countess I see that you are very wise indeed.”

  “You seem to know a good deal already. Where did you learn to change shape like that?”

  “A friend taught me,” she said. She smiled at some memory. “An Englishman, like you. That is where I first heard of you, and where I learned English. He’s gone back to England, though. When I heard you were in Prague I knew I had to seek you out, to continue my education.”

  Dee thought of the few simple magics he could do—moving things, creating light, changing shape. She already knew how to change shape, of course, but should he teach her the other things? He still believed women should not learn magic; he had only to look at Erzsébet to see where that disastrous path led. On the other hand, one of his tricks might save her life some day.

  “Why don’t you continue to listen to Count Vilém and me in the evenings?” he asked, postponing his decision. “You can learn a lot just by hearing us talk.”

  “But I need to ask questions as well,” she said. “And you and the high-and-mighty count and countess ignore me whenever I speak.”

  “That’s not true, surely,” he said. “I don’t remember you saying anything.”

  “That’s just what I mean. I’m unimportant—no one hears anything I say. I’m a woman—”