The Cabinet of Curiosities

by Paul Dowswell

  ‘Do you know where that house might be?’ said Etienne.

  Oldrich shook his head. ‘Big secret.’

  ‘Not to me it isn’t,’ said Dusan, and placed both his hands on Oldrich’s shoulders, close to his throat.

  Oldrich didn’t need much persuading. He made some grrrring and grunting noises to show he was thinking. ‘Something about a cup, back of Tyn, sign of a golden cup . . . near the square . . . can’t remember any more.’

  They left him slumped face down on the table.

  .

  As they walked to the Old Town Square, Etienne tried to piece all the disparate facts together. Strom was missing. He was working for Hlava on something big. Now Lukas had been sent somewhere by Hlava, who had told a lie to get him to go there.

  Etienne wondered how much he could tell Dusan and Radek and decided that this was not the time for discretion. He caught up with them. ‘A couple of days ago,’ he began, ‘Hlava asked Strom and me to do a really risky job for him – I know it was dangerous because he offered us a fortune to do it. We had to sell something to the palace. Some sort of machine. I wanted nothing to do with it, but Strom said he’d do it.

  ‘Then I overheard Lukas talking to Strom last night in the Three Violins. Lukas said something about someone selling a strange machine to the palace. Strom looked really uneasy. It has to be the same one. He left soon after and no one’s seen him since.’

  Radek looked puzzled. ‘But how would Lukas know about that? He’s just a stable boy!’

  Etienne considered his reply. He couldn’t tell them the actual truth. It would put both him and Lukas in a bad light.

  ‘I dunno. He works around the Castle on all sorts of things. I don’t know who he’s friends with or what he might hear about. Maybe he had to carry the thing up to the Emperor’s quarters?’

  ‘He’s a clever man is Hlava, but he’s dangerous,’ said Dusan. ‘We’ve been too greedy, letting him use us like this. Now it’s come back to bite us.’

  ‘It’s him that needs biting,’ said Radek, ‘right in the bastard’s neck. Time we chose our friends a bit more carefully.’

  Intuition told Etienne that Strom was in trouble. He had known him for six months now, and Strom was someone who turned up when he agreed to meet. And Lukas – this cock and bull story about Jenka – that didn’t make sense either. What had happened there? Was Hlava covering his tracks? Strom and Lukas both knew about this machine. And so did he. Would he be next?

  The three of them split up when they reached the square, concentrating on the streets close to the great church of Our Lady before Tyn. There were so many house signs: scales, snakes, cats, dogs, even lobsters. It was Radek who found the one with the golden cup above the entrance.

  Etienne approached the door, grateful he was not alone. Being the sort of size and characters they were, Dusan and Radek were not afraid to rush in where angels feared to tread. They banged on the door with their fists.

  A little voice asked who was there.

  ‘Delivery – two cases of wine,’ said Dusan, sounding as respectable as he could. The door opened an inch and they were in. A little old man stood quaking in the hall. Etienne addressed him politely. ‘We’re looking for a friend of ours.’

  ‘Go away,’ said the man. ‘How dare you come into my master’s home like this. Go now, before I call the guards.’

  ‘Call them,’ said Dusan.

  ‘My master is not to be trifled with,’ said the man.

  ‘Call the guards,’ said Dusan.

  ‘Guards, come quickly,’ said the old man. But his voice lacked conviction and they all knew there would be no thunder of feet into the hall. He was here on his own.

  ‘No visitors at all this evening?’ said Etienne. ‘Did someone ask for Jenka?’

  The man denied it, but he was beginning to tremble with fear.

  ‘What are you going to do to me?’ he pleaded.

  Radek looked him in the eye and said, ‘We’re going to tie you up and then set the house on fire.’

  ‘I don’t know the lad. I haven’t seen him before.’

  No one had mentioned a lad.

  ‘What’s happened to him? Where did they take him?’ snarled Radek.

  The man knew he was defeated. He tried to make a dash for the door, but Radek stopped him with insolent ease.

  Dusan stood behind him and pinned him tight to his side with one massive arm while holding his head rigid with his huge hand. Radek put his face up right against the old man’s. ‘Tell me what happened to your visitor, or I’ll bite your nose off.’

  ‘What the master will do to me will be far worse,’ said the old man, finding his courage.

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Radek. ‘Now where is the lad?’ He stretched his mouth out over the man’s nose and slowly began to close his jaw. Gripping the nose firmly in his teeth he began to rock slowly from side to side, all the while making angry growling noises.

  ‘On four,’ said Dusan, and he and Etienne began to count ‘One . . . two . . . three . . .’ as the rocking gathered momentum.

  ‘I’LL TELL YOU,’ screamed the old man. ‘They’re in the New Town, by the city walls. The house of the Two Suns, close by the West Gate.’

  ‘And what are they doing there?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he pleaded.

  ‘Then let’s go and find out,’ said Dusan.

  ‘It’s a ten-minute walk from here,’ said the old man. He’d stopped trembling now. He thought his ordeal was over.

  ‘Probably fifteen with you,’ said Radek.

  The man looked puzzled.

  ‘You’re coming with us.’

  Radek and Dusan told the old man exactly what they would do to him if he tried to call for help. Dusan showed him the sharp knife he carried and assured him he would slit his throat in the beat of a gull’s wing. The man got paler and paler and his legs gave way beneath him.

  Dusan hauled him to his feet. ‘They’re not at the house of the Two Suns, are they?’ he said.

  The man shook his head. ‘They’re in the forest near Dablicky. Out past the North Gate.’

  ‘What the devil are they doing out there?’ said Etienne.

  The man said nothing. Radek lurched towards him, mouth open.

  ‘It’s a sabbat,’ said the man in a tiny, terrified voice.

  ‘A what?!’ said Etienne. ‘You mean, with witches and everything?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Have you been to one of these?’ said Radek.

  The old man nodded.

  ‘And what are they going to do to Lukas?’ said Etienne.

  The man shook his head.

  All four of them left the house at once, Radek in front, the old man in the middle, Etienne and Dusan close behind.

  .

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  When Lukas came to his senses it was dark. He tried to move but realised he was still tied to the chair. He was outside, somewhere in the countryside, and there was a very strong smell of woodsmoke. The scene that greeted him was as bizarre as anything he had seen when he took the poisoned bread mould in Anselmus’s experiment. He was in a forest clearing. There was a great bonfire burning at the centre, and he could hear the rattling and scraping of a tambourine and viol. Silhouettes of tall trees loomed above him against the blue-black of the night sky. The stars seemed especially bright. All around the fire were people chanting and dancing. They were naked, save for garlands of flowers and the masks they wore – animals, Devils, blank carnival faces. Some were young and lithe, some old and saggy with pot bellies wobbling before them. All were daubed with strange blue and red markings.

  Only one figure was clothed. He wore long white robes and carried a flaming torch. On his chest was a necklace of holly, and over his head was a great mask in the shape of a goat’s head.

  Fear made Lukas’s heart beat hard and cleared his groggy head. What on earth was he doing here? He began to shiver in the night air.

  As his eyes grew used to the dark, more d
etails of this bizarre scene became apparent. Around the fire were grotesque objects: skulls, daggers, and even a severed head.

  Some of the revellers sat outside the dancing circle. A few had black cats sitting on their laps, and one woman had a large black rat. A tethered owl sat on a perch, staring impassively into the bonfire.

  To the left of him there was another fire, underneath a small cauldron. Someone was pouring ingredients into it while consulting a book.

  The more he became aware of his surroundings, the more frightened he felt. Lukas had heard about witches’ sabbats – everyone had. But his father, and his uncle, had encouraged him to believe that such events were entirely imaginary. His father, especially, had told him that the whole idea of witches was dreamed up by the Church as a means of frightening their flock into fearful obedience. Yet here was a scene straight from Malleus Maleficarum – a book his father had told him was disgraceful nonsense.

  Something was happening. The figure with the goat’s head had seated himself on a large wooden chair. Several of the younger women present were arranging themselves at his feet. He raised a hand and the music stopped. The dancers stood stock-still. ‘Bring me the victim,’ said the goat-man.

  Lukas was overcome with panic and strained at his bonds. But no one came over to him. Instead a wax figure the size of a doll was handed to the robed man. ‘Behold, the Holy Roman Emperor,’ intoned the man, and held the doll up. Lukas could see it was clothed in court finery and wore a tiny crown. He also thought he recognised that voice. The man started babbling in a strange language Lukas did not understand, although he did recognise the names of some of the demons Satan was supposed to send to Earth to aid evildoers.

  The music started again and the dancers began to sing a strange dirge-like melody. As the song reached its climax the goat-man began to thrust pins into the figure. Every time he did this the dancers would let out a horrific shriek, as if they themselves were being pierced to the innards. Another pin went through the doll’s heart and the little figure was thrown into the fire. All the dancers gave a final shriek and fell to the ground.

  .

  The man in the goat mask was standing up now, in front of his chair. He cast his torch into the blaze and picked up a hideous-looking dagger. It had a very sharp blade and a silver handle shaped like an elongated goat’s head, its two horns making up the hand-guard.

  ‘Bring the sacrificial goblet,’ called out the goat-man. One of his minions brought forward a chalice stolen from a church.

  ‘Now bring forth the offering,’ he commanded.

  This time they did come for Lukas.

  He was lifted to his feet. Two of the biggest men there pinned him from either side. He was completely helpless.

  The dancers began to chant, but the goat-man stilled them with a wave of his hand.

  ‘OH, DARK LORD,’ he called out to the sky, ‘TAKE THIS, OUR HUMBLE OFFERING, THAT WE MAY GROW STRONGER!’

  He raised the dagger and rested the point on Lukas’s throat. One of the young women moved closer with the chalice, ready to catch the blood that was to be spilt. Others crowded round her. Even through their masks, Lukas could see their eyes were wide with a frenzied, unnatural excitement.

  In his terror Lukas struggled to escape, but the two men held him tight as a vice. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as the mob began to chant. His heart was thumping in his chest.

  A loud crack rang out over the chanting, and Lukas opened his eyes. The goat-man lay on the ground. His mask had fallen off and a hole in the side of his head was oozing blood. His close-cropped white hair looked very familiar. In the second he saw him, Lukas thought he looked just like the Grand Inquisitor.

  A second later there was a great explosion in the fire and burning sticks flew everywhere.

  The revellers were seized by panic and scattered in all directions. Lukas was cast to the ground.

  Dusan had thrown a gunpowder pouch on to the flames.

  Etienne emerged from the darkness. ‘Quick,’ he said, as he slashed at Lukas’s bonds with a knife. ‘Before they gather their wits and come back to look for us.’

  The old man was with them too, held tight by Radek. As soon as Lukas was free, Radek gave the man an almighty thump with a length of wood and the four of them ran into the forest, only stopping when their legs could take them no further.

  .

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Anselmus was pleased to receive a late-evening summons to the Emperor’s quarters; it flattered his vanity that Rudolph should ask for him. But the physician was anxious too. Rudolph had been in an especially black mood over the last week. Courtiers who had displeased him had been sent from his presence with a hailstorm of abuse. Anselmus was worried about Lukas too. He’d gone out earlier that day and should have been home by now.

  When Anselmus arrived at the Emperor’s quarters, one of the equerries showed him into a small room. The time machine was set up in the middle. The Emperor was there too, sitting on a padded chair, reading the instructions. There were dark rings around his eyes. He looked as if he had not slept for days.

  ‘My dear Declercq,’ he said wearily, ‘these scribblings are somewhat complex. We should like you to assist us.’

  Anselmus set the machine up exactly as the instructions described. He pointed out – trying to keep the scepticism from his voice – that they did state that only one person should be present. The Emperor was uninterested. ‘It is a small room,’ he said impatiently. ‘We are sure it will work in here for you and us, or not work at all.’

  So be it, thought Anselmus. It will make no difference.

  They waited for the Castle clock to strike midnight and Anselmus wound the handle. It made a satisfying clicking noise – exactly like a large clock mechanism – and after a few seconds the device began to emit a pleasing ringing sound.

  They sat there, waiting to see what would happen. After a while Anselmus looked out of the window. As far as he could make out, people still walked across the bridge, and ripples from the river still caught in flickering torchlight. He thought to draw this to Rudolph’s attention, but when he saw how serene the Emperor looked, sitting with his eyes closed and a beatific smile on his face, he didn’t have the heart to tell him.

  ‘Ah, Declercq,’ said Rudolph sleepily, ‘we have not felt so completely at peace since we were a small child. It pleases us greatly to know that outside these four walls there is nothing happening to threaten our person or the peace of our realm.’

  Anselmus nodded, but he was finding it difficult to collect his thoughts. He could feel a thick, muggy headache coming on. He was desperate for a breath of cool night air, but he did not feel it was his place to suggest this to the Emperor. Besides, the instructions clearly stated that windows and doors should be sealed.

  Another five minutes passed. Now both of them were drowsy. Anselmus, in fact, felt as though he was at the bottom of the sea. The Emperor slumped back in his chair, his mouth wide open. The last thing Anselmus heard before he lost consciousness was the Castle clock striking the quarter-hour.

  .

  Lukas and his rescuers heard the clock too. They were seated by the road close to the North Gate, straining for breath. As it was after midnight the city gates had been locked until dawn. They found a barn and bedded down.

  ‘This reminds me too much of that night back in Momalle,’ whispered Lukas to Etienne. Dusan and Radek were both snoring loudly. ‘I hope we don’t get any more visitors.

  ‘That man you shot when you rescued me,’ he added, as the bizarre details of the night came back to him. ‘I’m sure it was the Grand Inquisitor.’

  Etienne didn’t seem surprised. ‘I can’t think of a better alias – the Witchfinder was a witch himself!’ He seemed to admire the man’s deceit.

  ‘Strom has vanished,’ said Etienne, ‘and Oldrich says Hlava told him to send you down to a house close to the square. What’s going on, Lukas?’

  ‘Hlava had me sent there?’ exclaimed Luka
s. ‘What a fool I was to swallow that story about Jenka!’

  ‘Why d’you think they wanted to kill you?’ asked Etienne.

  Lukas shook his head. ‘I don’t know for certain, but last night I asked Strom if he’d sold something to one of Rudolph’s courtiers. He denied it, but I could tell he had, and he seemed very agitated that I knew. My uncle – Anselmus – he told me he’d bought a strange machine from someone in the town who had tattoos on his face. I thought it sounded like Strom. But why is Hlava mixed up in it too?’

  ‘What sort of machine?’ said Etienne.

  ‘Something about time – I can’t quite remember. It sounded ridiculous.’

  ‘I was there when Hlava came to talk to Strom about selling it,’ said Etienne. ‘He wasn’t interested, but Hlava talked him round. I don’t think it’s a straightforward deception. There’s something odd about that machine.’

  Lukas felt sick. ‘If Hlava made it, then I definitely have to warn my uncle,’ he whispered. ‘I found out about it and he tried to have me killed; Strom knew about it and he’s missing. What is it about that thing that’s worth killing your accomplices for? You know about it too,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘Make sure you watch your back with Hlava.’

  Etienne shrugged. ‘He trusts me. I’m too valuable to him.’

  For a moment Lukas thought Etienne looked a little afraid.

  ‘I’ve got to get back to the Castle as soon as possible,’ said Lukas. ‘My uncle bought that machine for the Emperor and I think it’s going to get him into terrible trouble.’

  As they settled down to sleep Etienne turned and said, ‘I’ve had enough of this life, Lukas. I’m sure Strom’s dead. You nearly ended up with a knife in your throat. Oldrich and Karel betrayed you for a few coins. When this is over, I’m going to start trying to make an honest living on the market.’

  What Etienne said troubled Lukas greatly. As he drifted off to sleep he knew in his bones that his friend would find it impossible to get away from the life he had chosen. He was too well known now in the Prague underworld. The merchants would soon get to hear of his reputation. They would not trust him. Only men of bad character would seek out his services.