The Secrets of Life and Death

by Rebecca Alexander

  Felix kept his shoulders loose, his expression open. ‘I did. They were on display at the auction house for some weeks, then off to the States. I didn’t know they were going to be significant, so I just confirmed the notes were by Dee.’

  McNamara leaned in. ‘And that some of the items described as letters were by Edward Kelley?’

  ‘They appeared to be some sort of journal, but in a very poor state. They were written on paper, which doesn’t do well in damp attics.’ Felix turned back to Soames. ‘So, have you concluded this was a suspicious death?’

  The inspector grimaced. ‘No. In fact, we can’t even confirm an actual cause. That’s not the problem.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘A fourteen-year-old disappeared last week. Her mother swears her kid would never run away and must have been abducted.’ He shrugged. ‘My instincts tell me these girls may have been targeted for something. Perhaps the sex trade, maybe some weird cult. I’d appreciate it if you could track those papers down. They might explain why a dead girl was covered with four-hundred-year-old designs. It might give us a starting point for finding this Sadie Williams.’ Soames sighed. ‘Let me know if you find anything new, but I’m not sure we’ll be taking this forward if it proves to be a natural death.’

  McNamara held out a card. ‘I would like to speak to you further, Professor Guichard. We have found similar documents in private sales, and are looking into the case of the other letters attributed to Dee that appear to be clever fakes. They could only have been made by someone with a lot of knowledge about Dee.’

  ‘A Dee scholar?’ Felix was intrigued, in spite of himself. ‘I’ll be interested in his knowledge, if you find him. But I’m certain these letters and documents were authentic.’

  ‘Please keep me informed of any new developments. I’ll be in touch.’ The man rose, nodded to Soames, and walked out of the room.

  Back at his office, Felix hesitated before calling Jack’s number. There was something about her that made him uncomfortable and attracted him at the same time.

  She answered promptly. ‘Felix.’ Her voice was less hostile than the first time, at least, and he became aware of a warmth spreading through him. He could instantly conjure up her face, her watchful expression.

  ‘I need to talk to you about the documents you sold. The police have a special investigator looking into their provenance, who claims they might be forgeries.’

  ‘They can’t be, I’m certain of it. Anyway, why would someone forge the pages then virtually obliterate them, reducing their value? My whole childhood, they were stuck up in the attic.’

  Felix pulled up the image of the medals on his laptop. ‘And no one is disputing the authenticity of the medals.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Her voice changed. ‘Did you know you were followed by the man from the pub last night? He drove after your car.’

  ‘Well, I met that man at the police station this morning. His name is McNamara, he’s an investigator with the Art and Antiques squad.’

  ‘He suspects you?’

  ‘Well, maybe not me, but certainly the letters. And I am an expert on Dee.’

  She hesitated for a long moment, he could hear the hiss of her breathing. ‘After you drove off, I got into my car. There was someone on the back seat, a woman.’

  He rocked back in his chair, hearing a note of tension in the flatness of her voice. ‘Who was it? Are you all right?’

  ‘I don’t really know … I ended up hitting a wall.’

  He leaned forward. ‘Are you OK? What happened?’

  ‘There was something strange about her. I just found myself doing exactly what she said. I could hardly resist – until I crashed.’

  ‘But you’re all right?’ He was concerned. Despite her attitude, there was something fragile about Jack.

  ‘A few bruises. I’ll mend, but the car’s at the garage. Anyway, how can I help you with the letters?’

  He pulled out the folder of images he had printed from the British Museum’s email. ‘I have copies of the documents you sold. One was a folded package of papers, written by Dee’s assistant. Do you remember it?’

  ‘If it was that scruffy story with long sections in other languages, yes, I remember it. I even tried to read bits of it when I was younger.’

  Her face was vivid in his mind. ‘I have good, magnified copies to work from. I would value your opinion, to see if the document is all there, for example.’ He traced her name on the page in front of him. ‘Maybe they will trigger other memories.’ He really did want to see her again.

  ‘OK. I suppose we could meet once more.’ Her voice was guarded. ‘That man, why would he follow you from the pub?’

  ‘Maybe I really am a forgery suspect,’ he joked weakly. ‘Only a Dee scholar could create really convincing fakes. Otherwise, I have no idea. Look, I’m free tomorrow evening, if we could meet up?’

  She didn’t answer for a moment, then sighed. ‘OK. At your place, though, I don’t want to be seen in public with you, with all this interest in the symbols. I got the impression this woman was trying to find out where I live. Be careful, Felix.’

  ‘I will.’ He promised to text her his address, and rang off. His eyes settled on the notes he was making. A name caught his eye. Zsófia Draskovich, named as a witch.

  Chapter 21

  ‘The servants speak little to me, but I found a soldier with passable German. He was from Lithuania, and a farmer’s son, and he knew much of these “forest witches” and their sorceries. He told me no honest folk prosper where these hags live, and in his country they are outcast, living on refuse and carrion.’

  Edward Kelley

  23 November 1585

  Niepolomice

  I made no mention of blood to Dee, knowing it would appal him, although we had heard of stranger cures. He had spent the day closeted with the witch Zsófia in the main hall, unmoved by her beauty, or the enchanting effect she had on myself.

  I went down to the village, which leaned into the shelter of the fortress. The walls were pockmarked with evidence of missiles, and the hovels showed signs of previous conflagrations, ancient battles of which we in England were ignorant.

  The forest was like a blanket swaddling the castle. Paths and roads disappeared into dark tunnels through the woods. I had never seen trees so densely packed, it looked like a wall of bole and leaf. Cries of jays and magpies mingled with strange sounds of birds I hadn’t heard before. A man, dressed in clean, neat clothing, attracted my attention by tugging on my shirt. I recognised the mute Gábor from the consultation with the king. He pointed onwards, then gestured for me to follow.

  I walked along a line of rickety cottages, past a line of stone-built stables and a group of children playing with sticks, battling up and down the cobbled road between the fortress and the huts. I was led to a terrace overlooking the mountains and a river far below, which threaded its way like quicksilver between the hills. On a litter, covered with rich fabrics that draped onto the grass, the countess was half sitting, half lying. In the pale sunlight she looked even closer to death, grey shadows drawing into the hollows of her face. She opened her eyes.

  ‘Master Kelley.’ I noticed the heaviness of her light brown hair, tumbled against her shoulders as if it burdened her neck. In England, I think doctors would have wanted to cut off the hair, lest it drain energy from the sick body, but here it was the only part of her that looked alive. That and the sapphire eyes, staring at me directly. Not like a child, more like a man. Or a queen.

  I bowed low. ‘My lady.’

  ‘Are you free of your duties, then?’

  ‘I am my master’s assistant, not his body servant, my lady.’ True enough, though I served him any way I could from affection as well as obligation. I had learned more from Dee in two years than a decade of study.

  ‘Will you sit with me, and tell me stories of your land?’

  ‘Of course, lady.’ I sat, and looked over the view. ‘Although, we have nothing as magnificent as these forests and mount
ains.’

  She uttered a small chuckle of laughter, the smile lightening her face, giving her lips the tiniest flush of colour. ‘These are not mountains, Master Kelley. These are just a few hills. The forest, I grant you, is as good as anything we have in Transylvania.’

  I looked at the jagged horizon, the undulating landscape. A distant bellowing, like a distressed ox or bull, echoed over the trees.

  ‘Bison.’ She said, smoothing her hand over the dense fur rug she was seated on. ‘Do you have bison in England?’

  ‘Indeed, not, my lady. Nor bears, nor wolves of recent years. We are a country of much farmland and many orchards. And villages and towns, every few leagues.’

  She sighed, looking at me with those piercing eyes. ‘I long to visit it. Yet I miss my home at Csejte.’ She pronounced it Chay-Tay; it was only later that I learned the outlandish spelling. ‘It was a wedding present from my husband. It is the favourite of our residences.’

  ‘Tell me about it, lady,’ I asked, politely.

  She needed no encouragement. ‘It is in the Little Carpathians. It sits on the top of a hill with its back to the mountains. It is the one place in my life where we live as Hungarians, without my husband’s allies and military commanders or the King’s troops watching us.’

  ‘Does King Istvan visit?’

  She shrugged. ‘He used to come, to hunt. We have excellent wolf chases in the autumn, and take wild boar and deer through the winter. Now he is king in Poland, he does not have time for such leisure.’

  There seemed to be little warmth for her uncle. I ventured: ‘The king hopes for your recovery. We all pray for a happy outcome.’

  ‘The king, Master Kelley, wishes me to do my duty and give Count Nádasdy the heir he needs.’ Her voice weakened. ‘And you are here with your master Doctor Dee to help me. Perhaps I will be able to return to health, and hunting, and riding, and dancing. And be a better wife to my husband and a useful niece to my uncle.’

  ‘If the good Lord wills it,’ I replied.

  The tiniest grimace flitted across her face.

  ‘If He wills it.’ She looked for a moment at her bloodless hands. ‘You have heard of my family’s curse.’

  ‘I have, my lady.’

  She looked again at me, and something inside me felt cold, as if I had swallowed a goblet of ice.

  ‘There are those,’ she said, ‘who say that my affliction is the death my grandmother should have suffered. That my existence is unnatural and cursed.’ Her eyes held mine, as I struggled to say something that would not offend.

  ‘I shall pray for your deliverance,’ I offered.

  ‘I appreciate your efforts, Master Kelley, but you may need the prayers for yourself,’ she said, in a dry voice. ‘The king has asked you, and your master, to join the state banquet tonight in honour of the inquisitor. He, as I’m sure you know, would make a bonfire of us all.’

  Chapter 22

  Felix finished his ancient civilisation lecture late, as usual, and crossed the quad to his office. There were assignments to mark, grant applications to complete, dissertation drafts to consider. The police file sat on the corner of his desk, reminding him of the dead young woman he couldn’t quite get out of his mind. A tap on the door made him look up.

  ‘Come in, Rose.’ She looked strange, as if she was shaky. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Of course … I just wanted to tell you … someone visited. I didn’t see any appointments in the diary, but she came anyway.’

  He stood up, concerned to see Rose looking so pale. ‘For God’s sake, sit down. You look dreadful.’

  She smiled, but sat down anyway. ‘I do feel odd. I just thought I should tell you about this woman.’

  ‘Did she leave a name?’

  ‘Oh, I forgot.’ Rose took a card out of her pocket and gave it to him.

  He read the name on the card. ‘Bachmeier and Holtz Pharmaceuticals. I haven’t heard of them.’

  ‘She … I remember now, she was interested in the Dee letters we authenticated. She said something about the Komáromy letters, as well. Apparently, they came down to her through her family.’

  Felix sat opposite her. Rose normally had a rather acid style of speaking, sharpness that hid warmth for the students and a kindness towards him. She was looking strange, almost as if she were sedated.

  ‘What was she like?’

  ‘I … I can’t remember very much,’ she said. ‘This is crazy, she was only here a few minutes ago. She just left to go to her car.’

  He stood, looking into the car park. ‘Is she down there?’

  Rose stood next to him, and pointed. ‘There.’

  At the back of the chemistry building, a silver car was attended by a man in uniform, the driver, he supposed. The woman walking towards him wore high heels and a long wool coat. He had an impression of glamour, of elegance. When she turned to look back at the building, he could see she wasn’t young, although it was hard to tell her age, but a wave of calm washed over him.

  It was a familiar feeling. On the windowsill were a number of carvings and tokens he had gathered from his research, all associated with witchcraft and sorcery in some way. When he moved his hand towards them one gave off a sense of cold, as if it had been refrigerated. He ran his hand over the carved figure, and looked back at the woman, now just bending to get into the car. For a second he thought he saw the movement of an older woman, then the door was closed and the driver vanished around the other side.

  ‘What did she want?’ he asked, watching the car reverse out of the narrow space.

  ‘I … I …’ Rose was gasping like a goldfish, and when he glanced at her, she seemed stunned.

  ‘Rose!’ He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her away from the window. ‘Rose, sit down, are you OK?’ For a second he wondered if she was having a stroke. He guided her to a chair.

  There was something familiar about the glazed expression. He’d seen it in West Africa when he was researching a rash of witchcraft killings. People had become almost catatonic, they had been so suggestible. The wooden figure was supposed to guard against it, and it pulled the heat from his hand as he held it.

  ‘Take this.’ He had to prise her clenched fingers open before he put it in her palm, watched her hand curve around it.

  ‘What?’

  She sat down, staring at the talisman. He poured her a glass of water from the bottle on his desk, and offered it to her, wondering if it would be more useful to pour it over her. She took it, and smiled up at him.

  ‘Thanks. I must be tired,’ she said.

  ‘Tell me more about this woman, your visitor.’

  ‘She said she was hoping we had copies of the letters. I told her we did – oh, I shouldn’t have, really. But she had already been to the British Museum to see the medals. She knew all about them.’

  ‘But you didn’t show her anything?’ No, he remembered, the printed copies were still in his case.

  ‘Just the pictures of the medals. She wanted to know who sold them, but I didn’t know that. I don’t know your password on your desktop, you must have … Oh, Felix, I’m so sorry! She tried to get me to use your computer, and at the time, I just went along with it. I don’t know what came over me.’

  Jack’s words came back to him, of the woman in her car, the hypnotic spell she cast. ‘It’s OK, Rose, I think she’s very persuasive.’

  ‘She came to talk about grant money. She’s offering funding for a couple of students to look at the Komáromy letters, in Bucharest.’

  ‘I’ll investigate this woman. Do you feel any better?’

  She frowned, looking down at the amulet. ‘This is the anti-witchcraft carving that conman in the Ivory Coast gave you.’

  ‘Amusaa. I challenged him to cast a spell on me. I ended up giving him everything I owned, including my shoes. I don’t know how he did it to this day. He gave me the anti-hex carving as a thank you for my father’s watch. It’s supposed to counteract the mesmerising spell.’

  She put
the carving back on the windowsill with a hand that still shook a little. ‘Well, I think we can establish that it works.’

  Chapter 23

  ‘My dear wife, I hope your sickness has passed and that you and Mistress Jane Dee are well. Our work prospers and Doctor Dee and I have found many clues about our mission to save one of the great ladies of court from a dangerous affliction. Expect your husband home within no more than one month, and, I hope, with crowns to support us all until we return to England. I have about me my charms for protection, and the finger bone of Saint Anselm you gave me for my safety, which I am glad of in this place of witches and spirits. I shall send this by a messenger the king is commanding to return to Krakow. Look after dear Eliza and John, and bid them attend their studies. May the Lord keep you, your husband, Edward Kelley.’

  Sent 25 November 1585 to Jane Kelley

  The banquet was held, not in the feasting hall, but in the state dining room of the king. For the first time I saw noble ladies accompanied by their husbands. The countess seemed stronger, and was seated with a group of other young women as we waited for the king to arrive. Nobles sat around the room on benches or stood in little groups. The glances Dee and I attracted were more curious than hostile.

  Dressed in his scarlet robes, Father Konrad was in the middle of a group of ladies, appearing to charm them all. When he caught my eye, he bowed to them, and walked over to us. He was as tall as Dee, and smiled at us both.

  ‘Our English visitors. I hope your scientific investigations prosper?’

  Dee bowed politely. ‘Indeed, my research has been interesting to his Majesty. There are a number of natural scientists in this country. I find myself surrounded by fascinating texts.’

  ‘Science.’ Konrad gave the word emphasis. ‘Some of my colleagues at the Vatican are concerned that the explanation of God’s creations, in terms of man’s understanding, can only undermine faith.’

  ‘But you are less concerned?’ I hazarded.

  He shrugged. ‘The church is resisting an invasion of heresy and godlessness. That seems more important to me. It is good to visit a court where the king, at least, has not bowed to Protestantism.’