Dorantes nodded his head, as if in agreement.
Anselmus was surprised by such a positive response. He felt moved to say more.
‘His Majesty has also done his utmost to ensure that his Catholic and Protestant subjects, and even his Jews, all live together in peace and harmony. Indeed, were we not at war with the Ottoman Muslims, I am sure he would also tolerate the followers of Allah.’
‘But there are Muslims here in Prague,’ said Dorantes. ‘I have seen them in the market.’
‘Indeed there are a bold few,’ said Anselmus. ‘I myself have met Muslim alchemists and natural philosophers. They have much to tell us about the workings of the world.’
Anselmus did not have the calling or the character of a diplomat. He found it difficult to conceal his feelings. ‘I know at first hand of the activities of the Inquisition,’ he told his visitor. ‘Sometimes, in our persecution of our fellow creatures, I wonder if we are any better than the savages you spoke of, with their sacrificial knives.’
Dorantes suppressed his anger and shifted uneasily in his seat. He saw no value in pointing out that in their burnings the Inquisition was performing a holy duty, whereas the savages enacted their cruel rituals to pagan ends.
He now knew he was wasting his time. And he would definitely not be asking Anselmus about his humours. Still, it was his business to leave every door open. ‘Good sir, there have been excesses, only a fool would deny it. But we do God’s work, and sometimes only the severest punishments can save the world from Satan’s legions.’
At that moment Lukas returned from an errand. He bowed, as he had been taught to when gentlemen of repute were present.
‘Señor Dorantes is just leaving,’ said Anselmus chirpily. ‘Would you see him to the palace gate.’
Dorantes beamed at the sight of Lukas. ‘So this is your nephew,’ he said warmly. ‘I remember the lad from that night we dined together. My foolish daughter talked of nothing else the following day. So, you are from Ghent? I know the town well from my days in the Low Countries.’
They walked down the stairs together and Dorantes stopped by the gate of the palace and beckoned Lukas closer. ‘My daughter is very lonely here,’ he said quietly. ‘I am sure, as a relative of the great physician Anselmus Declercq, I can trust you to show her around the Castle. Perhaps also to escort her to the city so she can see the wonders of the town square. I have told her of the Astronomical Clock and the twin towers of Our Lady before Tyn.’ Then he spoke even more softly. ‘Celestina is taken with melancholy. She has been like this since her mother died. I’m sure the company of someone young like herself will bring some happiness back into her life – in the presence of her maid, of course.’
Lukas smiled brightly. Of course he would be delighted to escort Celestina around, he assured Dorantes. He would like nothing better. He walked back to his uncle’s apartment thinking that fate was a funny thing and perhaps it was smiling upon him now. He felt nervous about meeting her again, of course, but he told himself that as long as he didn’t suggest she try some of Anselmus’s melancholy medicine, things would go well.
Three days later a letter appeared on the doormat. It was from Don Dorantes, thanking Anselmus for his hospitality and asking if he could spare his apprentice for an hour or two to show his daughter the Castle.
Anselmus was pleased. Lukas had met so few people of his own age in Prague. He knew about Etienne, whom Lukas had mentioned once or twice. That was permissible, though he worried a little about Lukas going to taverns, but the Ambassador’s daughter would surely be a more suitable companion.
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The Doranteses’ quarters were a mere three minutes from Anselmus’s rooms. Lukas walked there with some trepidation. He had not spoken to Celestina since Grunewald’s party.
When he knocked on the door he heard the sound of excited barking. There was a scuffle and shouting and footsteps. The barking stopped and the door was opened by a stern young woman. She bowed, asked if he was Lukas and introduced herself: ‘I am Perpetua – the Señorita’s maid.’
She was not ugly – that was too strong a word – but her sturdy features had a sourness about them. Maybe it was the business of being maid to a girl only five years younger. Or perhaps Celestina was a difficult mistress.
‘He’s here,’ she shouted into the next room. Celestina appeared, wearing a beautiful gown of silk and velvet – pale green in colour, with an intricately embroidered floral motif on the bodice and pleated sleeves. Lukas was about to compliment her on it when she said, ‘Perpetua, please do not call me like that when I have a visitor. You are to come and find me and then say, “Señorita, your guest has arrived.”’
She said this with weary, almost pleading, patience. Perpetua was probably new to the job. Lukas was glad she had not spoken sharply to her. That would have disappointed him.
Then she turned to Lukas and offered him her hand to be kissed. ‘Master Declercq,’ she said with a smile and a curtsy, ‘how kind of you to come and visit me.’
Her hand smelled of orchids. The scent, only recently applied, tasted bittersweet on his lips and smarted a little. She was as delicate as china and Lukas felt completely under her spell.
‘May I offer you a glass of wine?’ she said.
Lukas wanted to smile but stopped himself. She was pretending to be grown-up, just as he was. ‘A glass of wine would be welcome,’ he said.
Perpetua trundled off and returned with two glasses of wine. ‘This is vino de Jerez,’ said Celestina. ‘We like to drink it in Spain. It reminds me of home.’
Lukas took a sip. It was sweet and strong. He liked it better than his uncle’s wine. That was what you’d call ‘an acquired taste’.
He looked around the apartment. It was sparsely furnished, with no decorations on the wall, no piles of books, no ornaments to make it feel like a home. A lace bobbin lay on one of the chairs. Perpetua stood in the background, hands clasped in front of her, a sharp look upon her face.
Barking started in another room. ‘Oh, Chico,’ she said. They let the dog out and he immediately leaped up at Lukas, desperately demanding his attention. Lukas liked little dogs and was happy to stroke him. Celestina beamed her approval.
‘And are you comfortable here?’ said Lukas.
‘It will do,’ said Celestina with a wan smile. ‘As you can see, there is little here to make it feel like home. My father insists on plain surroundings. He says that ornaments and adornments are vanities and distractions. I miss my home in Madrid. My mother adored her Moorish tiles and Italian tapestries, her portraits and oriental porcelains. I wish we could have brought some of her things with us.’
Lukas took another sip of his wine, feeling warm and a little bit bolder.
‘Will you and your father be staying long in Prague?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ said Celestina, and beckoned him to sit on a couch close to the window. ‘He has come to speak to the Emperor, but I understand there are so many demands on His Majesty, so much imperial business, that he has not been able to find time to see my father yet.’
Lukas smiled. ‘The Emperor has so much business,’ he said, ‘he often retreats from the court and will see no one, save for his physicians, for days on end.’ Then he wondered if he’d said too much. Anselmus had warned him to be careful what he repeated to the Spaniards.
She nodded but said nothing more. They sat there for a while. Lukas was just beginning to wonder what else he could say when she clapped her hands. ‘Come, Master Declercq, it is a beautiful day. Let us see what the Castle looks like in all this sunshine.’
It was one of those June days when the sun was hot enough to burn. Celestina wore a wide hat with a couple of feathers in the brim, and chastised Lukas for not wearing one himself. ‘You’ll get sunstroke!’
Lukas was pleased she cared.
They walked first to the West Gate – as Otka had done with him. Perpetua came with them, of course. It was simply not done for the two of them to be alone – even
outdoors. At first Lukas tried to include the maid in the conversation and explanations of parts of the Castle. But she took little interest in what he was saying. After a while Lukas almost forgot she was there.
Celestina seemed to hang on his every word as Lukas pointed out the locations of the Emperor’s quarters and the menagerie in the Royal Gardens. And he could not resist telling her about the Cabinet of Curiosities. ‘It’s supposed to be a great secret,’ he whispered as those brown eyes opened wide in surprise, ‘but everyone seems to know about it. It’s a marvellous collection of fantastical things.’ He was boasting now. The wine and the sun had gone to his head. ‘My uncle, he is the Emperor’s curator. We often go there to work.’
He pointed out the Powder Tower, where alchemists laboured night and day, and she tutted. ‘My father says it is a dark art and those who practise it are hell-bound.’
Lukas could well imagine Celestina’s father sending alchemists to the stake. ‘Do you think that too?’ he said.
She seemed offended. ‘Of course! I let my father guide me in the ways of the world. He is a wise man.’
Celestina was enchanted by the tiny houses of Golden Lane and shuddered when Lukas pointed out Daliborka Tower. He decided not to tell her about his visit there. It would make him appear foolish. Then they walked out of the East Gate and looked over Prague. ‘It is a most impressive city,’ she said, ‘although not as large as Madrid. I would love to see it properly some time. If my father permits, will you take me?’
Lukas said he often went to buy goods for his uncle, and he would be delighted to accompany her.
As they parted company she leaned towards him and said, ‘The Cabinet of Curiosities – this I would love to know more about!’ She took his arm and squeezed it. ‘You must tell me, Master Declercq,’ she whispered, anxious that Perpetua would not overhear. ‘You might even take me there? Perhaps just the two of us.’
Lukas was thrilled by the idea of doing something so illicit with Celestina. But a venture like that would have to be planned very carefully.
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Chapter Seventeen
The next time Lukas went to the Three Violins he was curious to see Hlava sitting with Strom and his gang. He was most generous, buying pitchers of beer, telling them he’d had a run of good fortune in a card game. Later in the evening he called for everyone to huddle close to hear something to their advantage.
‘I have a great opportunity to make some money, for me and for you.’ They all leaned closer. Hlava explained that he intended to pose as an alchemist and invite a wealthy crowd to watch him turn their coins into gold. Lukas thought it was a fine idea. He was beginning to appreciate what Etienne had always known. People were gullible – even clever, wealthy ones.
‘And you, Lukas, shall be an essential part of this,’ said Hlava. ‘We need you, to ensure it will succeed.’
Lukas’s amusement turned to alarm. He enjoyed being a spectator to their misdeeds, but not a participant. Besides, this was too public. There were so many things that could go wrong. As he muttered his reservations he sensed a rising hostility around the table, so he assured them he would consider the idea, which seemed to mollify them. He was relieved when the conversation turned to a spate of burglaries in the mansions around the Castle. ‘The price you can get for a couple of candlesticks, especially in the New Town!’ said Oldrich. ‘Enough to keep you drunk for a week.’
‘But you have to be careful of the market,’ said Dusan. ‘The lords and ladies, they come round the stalls with the constables, looking for their belongings. You have to pick your moment to sell, or you’ll find yourself with a hot iron through your tongue.’ That was one of the punishments for robbery.
That seemed unlikely though. To go by their boasts, Etienne’s mates were never caught. Lukas fleetingly wondered again if he could steal something too. It was difficult living on the apprentice wage his uncle gave him. He would like to buy new clothes. And it would be good to splash his money around with these men. It would make him feel like a grown-up – instead of the little brother they deigned to tolerate.
‘I’ll tell you what makes the most,’ said Radek. ‘A nice shiny timepiece. I had one you could pick up with one hand. Beautiful. Chimed on the hour. That paid the rent for a month. And I ate meat every day.’
Dusan nodded. ‘Timepieces, they’re the future. The smaller the better. I’ve seen one the size of an egg. All gold it was, and complicated, like a Chinese puzzle. That would fetch a pretty penny. Imagine that. Something that does the job of the town hall clock and it fits in the palm of your hand.’
‘Nothing sells quicker than a timepiece,’ said Oldrich. ‘Mantelpiece to customer in a couple of hours.’
When Lukas left, Etienne walked along the riverside with him, back to the great bridge. ‘Don’t steal anything from the palace and bring it to that lot,’ he advised. ‘I could tell you’re tempted.’ He laughed. ‘I can see it in your face.’
‘But if you do take something,’ he went on boldly, ‘just come to me. I’d be happy to help you get a good price. Strom and his mob are useful people to know, but you have to be careful with them. Don’t go thinking they’ll treat you fairly.’
He let what he had said sink in, then laughed again. ‘We could make some real money here. Not just a few pfennigs telling fortunes.’
Lukas remembered the conversation they’d had soon after they first met, when Etienne had agreed to travel with him to Prague. He’d let Lukas know he expected favours in return – maybe this was one of them.
Lukas tried to steer the conversation in a new direction. ‘And what do you think about Hlava’s scheme?’ he said, but Etienne just shrugged, then bade him farewell.
He walked home alone, hoping it would come to nothing. But now he had heard the details, how could he drop out?
Back at the Castle, Lukas was too restless to sleep. What Dusan and Oldrich had said about timepieces had caught his imagination. The Cabinet of Curiosities was full of them, from extraordinary marble and brass ones that would dominate a room to tiny ones no bigger than stag beetles, ticking away the seconds of the day inside their shiny golden coats.
Anselmus had told him Emperor Rudolph was especially fascinated by timepieces. He employed a whole workshop of horologists. Sometimes he joined them at their workbenches, to squint though a magnifying glass and assemble the minute mechanisms. He would spend hours lost in wonder, trying to match the perfection of his craftsmen.
Despite the Emperor’s moods, Lukas admired him. He liked the way he would sit among his humble artisans and try to learn their skills. He had a Christian modesty about him that was appealing in an all-powerful ruler. But that didn’t stop Lukas wondering if he could steal something from him and sell it.
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Lukas didn’t go back to the Three Violins for a week after that. He sensed he was teetering on the brink of something disastrous and he knew he should resist. But he felt so restless during his evenings at the Castle. He spent most of the day with his uncle, and at night they rarely did anything other than read or play chess. Eventually, the lure of the Three Violins was too strong. Lukas convinced himself that if he was careful everything would be fine. They were seasoned crooks, these people. They would be careful too.
They welcomed him back like an old friend, but much to his dismay Hlava joined them soon afterward. He ordered beer for them all, then beckoned them to gather round.
‘Our enterprise is close to fruition,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Word has gone out to the wealthier streets of Prague, among the alchemists of Golden Lane and natural philosophers of the University, that an alchemist from the far reaches of Astrakhan has come to demonstrate his art and search for a patron. A room has been hired in one of the more respectable taverns.’
They all listened intently, trying not to miss a word among the hubbub of the tavern. Then Hlava turned his gaze to Lukas. ‘You, my young friend, you have a central role in this venture. I hope you will not disappoint me and your friends.�
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Lukas’s stomach turned over. They were all staring at him, their faces a mixture of hope and suspicion. ‘You’re not a spy, are you?’ said Hlava, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘A spy for the city constables, sent to inform on the more “enterprising” citizens of our city.’
Hlava was teasing him, but some of them began to look suspicious. This was an idea that had to be swiftly crushed.
‘I’ll do it,’ said Lukas quietly. ‘Who would not want to earn that kind of money in an afternoon?’
They all clapped him on the shoulder. Even Oldrich bought him a beer. Lukas tried to put his worries out of his mind and told himself this was the price he had to pay for their company. Sometimes he wondered if they only let him sit with them because they thought he would be useful to them one day. Well, he would do this and prove it. Besides, Lukas told himself, he was so much better off than they were. His life was quite luxurious compared to their daily grind of villainy and ale. Why should he not help them make a few crowns?
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Barely a day after Lukas had committed himself, Anselmus mentioned he had heard that an alchemist from Astrakhan was visiting the city to demonstrate his skills. ‘I shall have to go, of course. If he is as capable as he says, then I shall recommend him to the Emperor.’
Lukas nearly choked on his soup. ‘But, Uncle, he sounds like one of those charlatans you told me about. Surely you will be wasting your time?’
Anselmus shrugged. ‘Maybe so. But Ruzicka has told me he will be there. And if the Emperor’s chief alchemist feels it is worth attending, it’s not for me to look down my nose. Besides, my fellow physicians Tesarik and Vrzala will be there too. I really ought to go.’
Lukas had foolishly assumed his uncle would be too worldly-wise to be interested in a prank like this, and certainly too important to visit a town tavern to witness a demonstration. He felt awkward about letting his friends down, but it was the perfect excuse to get out of it.
The Cabinet of Curiosities Page 10