Anselmus was wary of Strom. There was a shifty nervousness about him and he was undoubtedly not a merchant, especially with the facial tattoos he could see peeping out from either side of the hood he had wrapped tightly around his head. Neither had he found such a device in a monastery.
‘Sir,’ said Anselmus, ‘this machine is clearly not able to do what it claims . . . but it is still very beautiful. I should like to buy it for that reason alone, although I can offer you only two hundred ducats.’
He was expecting the fellow to haggle and had already decided he would pay up to three hundred ducats. He was surprised when Strom said, ‘Done,’ and thrust out his hand to shake on the deal. The man seemed anxious to be rid of it and on his way.
‘I shall send some soldiers from the Castle to carry it back. They will pay you the money when they collect it.’
‘Do so immediately,’ said Strom. ‘I must be away by midday.’
As Anselmus walked back to the Castle he kept chuckling to himself. Travelling to the court of Mehmet the Third, indeed. That man would have been slain at the border, or taken as a galley slave. But Anselmus knew something strange and wonderful when he saw it. This was the best bargain he had ever purchased and he was sure the Emperor would be fascinated by such a bizarre contraption.
Anselmus mentioned the machine to Rudolph when he and Lukas visited him for his weekly examination that morning. The Emperor was especially despondent that day, and the news cheered him immensely. ‘Have it delivered as soon as it arrives, my dear Declercq,’ he said. ‘I shall read the instructions with great interest. What I would give to be able to stop time . . .’
Anselmus expected the Emperor to see this contraption as he himself had – as an amusing fraud. He was surprised to hear him express such open enthusiasm. Perhaps the Emperor believed it might work because he so desperately wanted it to.
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Chapter Thirty
Rudolph sat in his Cabinet later that afternoon and surveyed the strange machine before him. It was exactly as Declercq had described it – a cross between an astronomical clock and a torquetum. There was a large handle on the lower section. On a whim he turned it a quarter. As the cranking handle clicked, the machine whirred into life and for a few seconds Rudolph heard a haunting singing sound – like a wine glass when you run a wet finger around its brim.
The Emperor smiled a rare smile, decided he would try it out and sat down to read the tattered instructions.
They made some sense, he supposed, as he skimmed through them.
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Behold and wonder. You have before you an instrument that will grant you prodigious power. For should you wish it, this machine will still the world, prevent the Moon from falling to the rim of the Earth and the stars from turning in their celestial orbits.
For this is a machine that can impede the passage of time.
. . . The apparatus is to be aligned exactly north. The Horizon, Equatorial and Ecliptic discs of the torquetum are to be positioned with their pointing arms south, east and west, and the perpendiculum straight down towards the centre of the Earth . . .
. . . The device is powerful enough to work only in a small room and in the presence of a single soul. Great care should be taken to seal doors and windows lest the essence of time seep either in or out of the room and disturb the equilibrium of the outside world . . .
Such an experiment should start only at midnight – on the final chime of a church clock . . .
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Rudolph knew he must try it, even though everything he had learned of science and the occult told him the machine was a fraudulent nonsense. But the thought of being able to sit in a small room while the machinations of the court, the clamouring attentions of scores of ambassadors, the squabbling of his brothers and the dreadful melancholy that weighed on him like a lead suit of armour all hung in the air like flecks of dust – that would ease his troubled soul like nothing else.
He called to his equerry and instructed him to find men to move the machine to a small study in his quarters, seal the windows with wax and bring tapestries and carpets to cover the door. A supply of food and drink and a chamber pot were also to be provided. The room would need to be prepared and made ready by the following evening.
The Emperor looked at the instructions again and decided that their complexity called for a learned assistant. If the apparatus did work, what would it matter if there were two people in the room rather than one? Especially if the room was small. Anselmus Declercq would be just the man for the job.
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Anselmus was in a good mood that evening. Rudolph had sent him round some quality provisions to thank him for his latest acquisition. As they feasted on venison and drank a fine bottle of red wine from the Emperor’s vineyard, Lukas gingerly asked him about the strange machine he had mentioned to the Emperor that morning. He was still wary of aggravating his uncle and measured every word before it left his mouth.
‘It is a transparent fraud,’ he laughed, ‘reputed to stop time. But it is a very beautiful machine and worth much more than the two hundred ducats I parted with. As for the so-called merchant who was selling it, he looked nothing less than a street thug. He had a tattoo on his face, although he was trying to hide it with a hood.’
Lukas felt deeply alarmed. Even among the villains of Prague, facial tattoos were uncommon. He understood it was essential to keep his life in the Castle separate from Strom and Etienne and the gang. These were two worlds that should never meet. If Strom had sold the piece there would be something nefarious about it. He didn’t want his uncle to get into trouble and make a fool of himself with the Emperor.
‘Was he quite a tall, solid man?’ said Lukas.
‘He was.’
‘Did he have tattoos that were like two interweaving lines along the sides of his face?’
‘He could have. I could only see a little.’ Anselmus was beginning to sound alarmed. ‘Do you know him?’ he asked brusquely.
His uncle’s prickly anxiety persuaded Lukas he should not tell him he knew Strom well. So he tried to warn him indirectly.
‘I’ve seen him around the town. He always looks as if he’s up to no good.’
‘I’m perfectly aware of that,’ Anselmus replied curtly.
.
As soon as he could reasonably excuse himself, Lukas went to the Three Violins. He had to find out what Strom had been up to. There had been too many near-disasters recently. If something happened to his uncle, what would become of him? He had seen what life outside the Castle would be like. Then he cursed his own selfishness. He needed to find out to protect his uncle, not just himself. The wine he’d drunk with the meal had gone to his head and Lukas had to force himself to think clearly about what he needed to say.
Strom asked if he’d seen anything interesting lying around the palace – anything worth picking up. It was a question they never tired of, although Lukas always said no and protested that he didn’t clean the imperial quarters or anywhere where you’d see things worth stealing. He was strictly stables and courtyards.
Then Lukas swallowed hard and made his pitch. ‘I was doing my rounds today when I saw one of the Castle philosophers with a group of soldiers. They were carting this great heavy thing in through the palace gates,’ he said. ‘He called me over to give them a hand. I didn’t mind. He always stops to talk to me anyway – most of them wouldn’t. He was in a particularly good mood, and when I asked him why, he said he’d just bought a fantastic machine from a merchant in town – paid him a quarter of what it was worth.’
A fleeting look of alarm passed over Strom’s face. ‘Oh yes?’ he said casually. ‘Good deal he got, by the sound of it.’
‘Yes. He paid two hundred ducats. Said it was worth nearer a thousand! I can’t imagine what I’d do with that sort of money.’
Strom tried to remain calm, but Lukas could see a suppressed rage boiling up behind his eyes as he paused, then asked, ‘And what sort of machine was it?’
Luk
as had found out all he needed to know. The less he said about it now, the better. But Strom made him nervous and he was frightened and confused about what he should do with his newfound knowledge. He blurted out, ‘I don’t know – something about a time machine. It sounded ridiculous.’
‘Time machine?’ spluttered Strom, and laughed scornfully. Belphegor picked up his master’s annoyance and let out a menacing growl. Strom shook his head to indicate the conversation was too stupid to continue. He left soon afterwards, Belphegor following at his heels.
As Strom walked through the dark streets he cursed his impetuosity. He had gone into this enterprise with no thought of the consequences. Now he had a nagging feeling that what he had done would have serious repercussions. Lukas knew the man who had bought Hlava’s machine off him. That was too close to home. Questions could be asked.
Why was Hlava so keen for the Emperor to have that machine? What if Declercq and Lukas put two and two together and the palace guards came looking for him? He had a nagging suspicion that Lukas knew it was him who had sold it. Otherwise, why would he have mentioned it? He really didn’t want to kill Lukas to cover his tracks. He had grown to like him.
Back at the Three Violins, Lukas drank up his beer and headed for home. He felt uneasy. Had he said too much? Strom was unpredictable at the best of times. But something was going on and Anselmus was caught up in the middle of it.
As Lukas turned the corner close to the grand stairway that led to the Castle, a beggar was singing a carnival song on a street corner:
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How lovely is youth
Yet it slips away
Who knows what tomorrow may bring
So be happy while you may.
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Hrusosky Hlava was woken by a loud banging at the door. He cursed himself for not having spent money on a bodyguard. There was always someone, somewhere, who had a reason to kill him. Hlava told few people where he lived. He listened in the silence between the thumps. Then he heard a hoarse whisper. ‘Hlava, it’s me, Strom. Open the door.’
He hurried down the stairs and drew back the five bolts, lifted the two wooden planks and turned the keys to the three locks.
‘That creature isn’t coming in my house,’ said Hlava, pointing to the dog. Strom ordered Belphegor to sit and wait.
‘You know that boy Lukas?’ he said, as Hlava closed the door behind him.
Hlava looked blank. He had acquaintances all over the city. He had no talent for remembering names.
‘He’s the one you got to hide in the chest when you did the gold crowns robbery . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘He knows the fellow at the Castle who bought the machine.’
‘What? But he’s just a stable boy, isn’t he? Or some other low servant. That was Anselmus Declercq. He’s one of the Emperor’s physicians. How can the lad know him?’
Strom shook his head. ‘I don’t know. He said he talks to him sometimes . . . and Declercq told him about the machine he’d just bought. I think Lukas knows I sold it. So what’s the point of that thing? You didn’t want to sell it for profit, that’s for sure.’
Hlava made no reply.
‘You said I should sell it to him for any price,’ Strom continued, ‘just as long as it got to the Castle and the Emperor. So what’s it for?’
‘It is of no concern to you, Strom. I told you I expected complete discretion, and I have paid you well. If the boy knows it was you who sold the machine, you must dispose of him before he tells anyone.’
Strom grabbed Hlava by his gown, lifted him clean off the floor and drew his face close to his. Before Strom could utter the threats he intended to make, Hlava had whipped out a stiletto knife and plunged it into the back of his neck.
Nothing killed a man quicker.
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Chapter Thirty-One
Hlava slept fitfully and woke early, feeling annoyed with himself. A shrewder man, he rebuked himself, would have had Strom kill Lukas and then killed him. Now Hlava had a corpse in the kitchen and the boy to dispose of. He chewed over his breakfast bread and made himself a rare brew of coffee. It was a luxury he indulged in infrequently, but today he needed a lively mind.
Wearily mopping away the pool of blood Strom had made on his stone floor, Hlava was conscious of his victim’s cold, sightless eyes. ‘You, my old friend, are going for a swim tonight,’ he said to the stiff white corpse.
Then he made a mid-morning visit to the house of the Grand Inquisitor. When he left, in the early afternoon, he had a definite spring in his step. Everything was back on course. It was going to be all right.
He hurried to the Three Violins. Oldrich and Karel were drinking there. Beckoning them close he said, ‘That lad, the one who helped us with the alchemy job . . .’
‘Lukas,’ said Oldrich. ‘The stroppy one, who complained about his cut?’
‘That’s him,’ said Hlava. ‘Can you tell him that Jenka wants to see him at her house? It’s close to the Old Town Square, behind Our Lady before Tyn. There’s a sign of a golden cup above the door. Tell him she asked for him. Don’t say it was me.’ He winked, then gave them each a silver crown and went on his way.
They gave each other a knowing smirk. Hlava was up to no good, but they didn’t care. Lukas, the jumped-up stable boy who thought he was better than them, was going to have an interesting evening.
Lukas came into the Three Violins around six o’clock, hoping to find Etienne. It had been a brilliant autumn afternoon and the air still held the warmth of the day. When he saw the back of Oldrich’s bald crown and noticed that only Karel was sitting with him he decided to go back to the Castle. But Karel spotted him and called over, ‘Hey, Lukas. We have a message for you.’
When he was close enough, Oldrich leaned down and said in a low voice, ‘Jenka was asking for you. Says she needs your help with something.’
Karel began to laugh suggestively. But Oldrich kicked him under the table. ‘Can you go to her house?’ he said.
‘I don’t know where she lives,’ said Lukas. He was bemused. What would Jenka want with him? Still, he wasn’t going to turn down the chance to help a pretty girl.
Oldrich described an address in the Old Town, as Hlava had instructed. It was twenty minutes’ walk from the Three Violins.
Lukas hurried off, deep in thought. It had been an odd day. He still hadn’t worked out a way of warning his uncle about the machine without revealing he knew the ‘merchant’ who had sold it to him. If Anselmus realised he knew people ‘like that’, Lukas fretted, he’d never let him go out on his own again. Perhaps he could ask him why he thought he had got it for much less than it was worth. But wouldn’t that make him suspicious? Lukas could imagine how angry Anselmus would be if he thought his nephew was questioning his judgement.
It was only when he reached the house Oldrich had told him about – the one with a golden cup above the front door – that he began to feel uneasy. He had expected Jenka to live in a humble dwelling, like the ones on Golden Lane. This was rather grand. Maybe she was a servant who lived and worked here during the day, then worked some evenings at the Three Violins?
He banged on the door and was startled to find it opened by a man whose face he recognised at once. It was the Grand Inquisitor.
Lukas’s first instinct was to run, but he felt rooted to the spot with fear. ‘I’ve come to see Jenka,’ he blurted.
The Inquisitor gave him a pleasant smile but showed no sign of recognising him. He waved Lukas in and bade him sit down on a spindly chair in the hall. The house was as grand inside as it was out, with heavy carpets and tapestries and finely carved furniture.
‘Jenka will be down in a minute,’ said the Inquisitor. ‘It is a hot day. I’m sure you are thirsty.’ He called for a servant and within a minute an elderly man had brought him a drink.
Lukas was thirsty. The sun had baked the ground hard and there was a great deal of dust on the streets of Prague. He gulped down the strong-tasting liquid before he had even th
ought about what it might be. It had a sweetness about it, like a fruit punch, but there was a bitterness too which he only noticed as he drained the final few drops.
At once Lukas began to feel drowsy, and what happened next occurred like a long, strange dream. First he could see the elderly man leering at him and cackling. Then there were other people in the hall. He had a sack thrust over his head and shoulders. It smelled strongly of hay. Someone had pinned him down and was tying his wrists to the arms of the chair. When he lazily kicked out with his feet he found he had no strength in them at all. After that all was a blank.
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Chapter Thirty-Two
It was a slow evening at the Three Violins. Karel had gone home and Oldrich was getting bored with his own company. His bald crown had gone a painful-looking pink in the sunshine, and he was so drunk he could barely stand.
Etienne arrived with Radek and Dusan. ‘Seen Strom?’ they asked Oldrich. He shook his head. ‘Has Lukas been in?’ said Etienne. Oldrich babbled a story about Lukas going to Jenka’s. They pushed him off his chair. ‘Go home, you drunken fool,’ said Radek.
Etienne was uneasy. He was supposed to have met Strom at midday in the Unicorn tavern, to pick up some goods to sell on the market. When he had not turned up Etienne had gone to the Blue Star and the Spider but there was no sign of him there either. He even went to his home. The woman he lived with complained that he had been out all night and subjected Etienne to a ten-minute tirade about how she wasn’t going to put up with him any longer. Then Etienne had seen a dog he was sure was Belphegor wandering disconsolately in the Old Town Square. He shared his fears with Radek and Dusan. They agreed. Something was up.
Radek and Dusan loomed over Oldrich and dragged him to his feet.
‘What’s this about Lukas and Jenka?’ said Etienne, trying to get some sense out of him.
‘Ohhh, I dunnow,’ slurred Oldrich. ‘Hlava said to tell him she’d asked him to go to her house.’ Then he clasped his hand to his mouth. He had promised not to mention Hlava.
The Cabinet of Curiosities Page 17