“Thirty-six. I know.”
“Yes, of course. Of course you would.”
“But why should this disturb you?”
“Because—because I am afraid I am one of the thirty-six. And I don’t think I am up to the task.”
Dee looked at him sharply.
“Judah!” Pearl called. “Judah, your students are here.”
“I must go,” Loew said. “We’ll discuss this some other time. I have no pupils Tuesday, the day after tomorrow, you can come then—”
“Listen,” Dee said quickly. “I have an associate who can speak to angels. I’ll bring him along if you like. We can discover God’s will in all this.”
“Speaks to angels? There is an angel mentioned in the Talmud, Anael, who is said to answer all questions, who makes God’s secrets known to man. Perhaps—”
“Judah!”
“Please come,” Loew said. “I’ll be waiting.”
DEE HAD NOT GONE FIVE STEPS BEFORE HE FOUND HIMSELF lost in the maze of the Jewish Quarter. Every street, every house looked like one he had just seen. Several times he passed synagogues, an amazing number of them for such a small space. It showed great piety, he thought, or else a great deal of contentiousness among different factions, each one insisting on its own place of worship.
Once he came to a walled cemetery and paused to look inside. Tombstones were crowded in together and pushing up against the walls, new and old, straight or leaning dangerously or rotting on the ground. Bent and shriveled elder trees grew along the paths. The trees were the only greenery he had seen in the Quarter, but if this was a garden it was a malevolent one, each stone a noxious weed straining toward the light. He shivered.
“Do you know the story about this cemetery?”
Dee whirled around quickly. He smelled the woman before he saw her; perhaps her foul odor had given rise to his morbid thoughts. She was anywhere between fifty and ninety, bent over like a crescent moon.
“Who are you?” Dee asked.
“We met before,” the woman said.
“I don’t remember—” But suddenly he did. This was the midwife he had nearly hired for the birth of his child. She wore layer on layer of ragged clothing in different colors. Her face and what showed of her arms were very dark, burned by the sun.
He turned away; he could not seem to look at her for very long. “What do you want?”
“Do you know the story about this cemetery?”
She was speaking English, Dee realized, but not very well. Unthinking, he had answered in the same language. He switched to German, hoping that was her native language. “No, I don’t,” he said.
“There was a terrible plague here just a few years ago, in 1582,” she said in very good German. “They say that one night during the plague Rabbi Loew walked through the cemetery, and that he met a woman, a tall woman dressed in white, with a white veil covering her face. She was holding out a piece of paper, and Rabbi Loew tore it from her hands and ran with it to the safety of his house. And there he saw that it was a list of names, names of people who were about to die in the plague, and that his own name was among them. But because he had torn the list from the hands of Death they all survived.”
“Wait a minute,” Dee said. “Are you telling me that no Jews died during the plague?”
“Some did, certainly,” the woman said. “He didn’t manage to get the whole list, you see.”
Dee did not know what to make of this. It couldn’t be a true story, surely.
“And now we come to what I want,” the woman said. “I have heard of you, Doctor John Dee. Your reputation has preceded you, all the way from England. I would like to be your pupil. I would like to learn what you know of magic.”
“What? No. It’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Well, because—women can’t learn magic. Everyone knows that.”
“Do they? What’s in a cock that’s necessary for the study of magic?”
He remembered now how foul-mouthed she was. “It’s not that. Woman’s minds are weak, they are flighty and lack stability. They could not take on the responsibility.”
“I would say it’s just the opposite. We are responsible for everything, for all of life, from the pain and blood of birth to the laying out of the dead. Everything in the world was born between our legs.”
Everything in the world was created by God, Dee thought. But he would not argue with this woman. “I’m sorry. No.”
“Well,” she said. “I hope I can someday change your mind. In the meantime I notice that you are nowhere near the gate you came in.”
“Yes, well. I seem to have gotten lost. Do you know the way out?”
“Me? With my flighty and irresponsible mind? How could I possibly know something like that?”
“Don’t toy with me,” Dee said. “Do you or don’t you?”
She laughed, showing three or four brown and broken teeth. “I could say I’d lead you out in exchange for lessons in magic. But I won’t. Come with me.”
She rucked up layers of her outer garments and tucked them into her skirt, then began to walk. Dee had no choice but to follow.
Loew had not taken him this way, he thought. They went through back alleys, shadowy unpaved streets crowded with warehouses and workshops. She moved swiftly for a woman of her age.
“Tell me something,” Dee said. He was breathing faster from the exertion, but she hardly seemed winded. “What are you doing here? You’re not a Jew, are you?” Say what you like about the Jews, Dee thought, he hadn’t seen anyone in the Quarter as unkempt as this woman.
“No. I followed you here.”
“You followed—” The gall of this woman! “That was unwarranted, quite unwarranted. I will not have you following me again.”
They passed a butcher shop. The smells of the slaughtered animals coiled out into the street and mingled with the woman’s stale odors. Men carrying a side of beef paused to look at them. This time Dee couldn’t blame them; the woman looked like one of the city’s gargoyles come to life.
“I’ve been here many times, though,” she went on. “Rabbi Loew is a powerful man, a great worker of magic.”
“And I suppose you asked him to be your teacher as well,” Dee said. He wondered what Loew had made of her.
“I’ve never spoken to him. But I don’t think he’d make a good teacher—he’s too—too—” She struggled for the word. “He wants mastery over everything.”
“Why do you come here, then?”
“I go all over. I’ve been everywhere in Prague, and a good many places out of it.”
“Isn’t that dangerous for you?”
“Who would bother a harmless old woman, Doctor Dee?” she asked, grinning her horrible grin.
They came out to a cobbled street, with the gate ahead of them. “My name’s Magdalena,” she said. “It’s only fair I tell you, since I know yours.”
He made his farewells and hurried outside the Quarter.
HE FOUND HIS WAY TO HAGECK’S HOUSE WITH NO TROUBLE and went straight to the study to tell Kelley about Rabbi Loew. Kelley was busy pouring a bright green liquid from one vial to another, but partway through Dee’s tale he stopped and turned to him. “Thirty-six righteous men, you say?” Kelley asked.
“Yes,” Dee said, pleased that Kelley was taking an interest. “I asked him if he would like us to speak to the angels about him, and he said he would.”
“Did he?” Kelley said absently. His brief spark of interest was gone; he seemed focused only on his work.
“We’ll go the day after tomorrow,” Dee said.
Next he went to tell Jane about his encounter. He found her in their bedroom, mending one of the children’s blankets. “Good,” she said when he had finished. “You’ve been too preoccupied lately—it’s good you found someone to talk to. But do you have to take that man Kelley with you? Yes, I know,” she said wearily, as Dee made ready to answer her. “He is the one who can see angels.”
But the next day
, as Dee sat down to breakfast, he noticed that there were no sounds or smells coming from Kelley’s study.
“Where is that dreadful man?” Jane asked him, pouring his breakfast beer.
“Which dreadful man?”
“Kelley, of course. He’s usually early for breakfast. I went to knock on his door but there was no answer. Perhaps we’re finally rid of him.”
“I hope not,” Dee said. “Tomorrow is the day we visit Rabbi Loew.”
After breakfast he looked in Kelley’s workshop and his bedroom, then went in search of Doctor Hageck. He found him in his study, sitting behind his desk and going over some accounts.
“Do you know where Master Kelley’s gone?” he asked.
“I haven’t seen him since yesterday,” Hageck said. “He’s usually in that room of his, searching for the Philosopher’s Stone. Do you know if he’s made any progress?”
“I don’t, no.”
Hageck glanced up from the papers in front of him. “I’ve heard some disquieting news,” he said.
Dee looked up sharply. Had Hageck learned about the demon, was he about to order them out of his house? “What news?” he asked.
“Someone I talked to saw you going to the Jewish Quarter.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Dee said, surprised.
“What is it you do there? Good Christian men in this city do not mingle with those people. Nor do they mingle with us.”
“I—I’ve been talking to an interesting man, Rabbi Judah Loew. Do you know him?”
“I don’t know anyone in the Quarter. You shouldn’t either, if you’re wise.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” Hageck said, puzzled. “You know what the Jews are like.”
“No, not really. There are no Jews in England.”
“Ah, well, that explains it. They’re vicious and cunning and greedy—they’ll cheat you out of everything you own. And it’s said that they need the blood of Christians to live, that they kidnap baptized children—”
Dee began to laugh.
“What is so amusing?”
“I haven’t seen anything like that. I think those are stories, nothing more.”
“You don’t know. You said yourself you’ve never met a Jew before. I tell you this for your own good, believe me. Stay out of the Quarter.”
Dee nodded without committing himself, but he knew that nothing would keep him from visiting Loew again. His curiosity had been aroused.
Kelley returned that evening. “Where have you been?” Dee asked.
“About,” Kelley said. “I’ve been thinking of renting my own place. I need to spread out if I’m to continue my experiments.”
Jane’s expression showed her pleasure as clearly as if she had spoken. Fortunately, Kelley was turned away from her and facing Dee. “But how will you afford it?” Dee asked. “You told me you had no money—”
“You needn’t concern yourself with that.”
Had Kelley found a patron? Or—unlikely as it seemed—had he discovered how to make the Philosopher’s Stone? Perhaps he had returned to his old ways, to whatever crimes he had committed before Dee met him. But Kelley’s expression permitted no questions. Dee could only hope that whatever Kelley was up to, it would not come to the attention of King Rudolf. And if Jane was happy …
“Remember that we’re to see Rabbi Loew tomorrow,” Dee said.
“Of course,” Kelley said.
Dee rose early the next day and was pleased to see that Kelley was already at the table. Jane served them breakfast, and when they were done they packed up the scrying stone and the other implements and headed out to the Jewish Quarter.
As soon as they went through the gate Dee realized that he was unsure how to find Loew’s house. He headed down an unfamiliar street lined with shops: a cobbler’s, a tailor’s, a silversmith’s. A few more streets took him to the town square, and he knew the way from there. He strode purposefully on ahead until they came to Loew’s house.
Loew opened the door to their knock. “I remember you,” he said to Kelley. “You were waiting for King Rudolf with us.”
Kelley nodded.
“Well,” Dee said. “Shall we get started?”
Loew led the way to his study and opened the windows. His desk had been cleared for them, Dee saw. They brought out their implements, the cloth, the wax tablets, the stone.
Suddenly Loew stepped back, shocked. “What’s wrong?” Dee asked.
The other man pointed to an inscription in Hebrew on one of the tablets. “We almost never write the hidden name of God,” he said.
“Do you want us to stop?” Dee asked.
“No, no. Go ahead. The damage is already done.”
Dee set the showstone on the stand and motioned them to pray. “Good,” he said when they had finished. “Ask the angels—we would like to know the significance of the number thirty-six.”
“Thirty-six,” Kelley said. He looked into the glass. “Madimi says that it is the number after thirty-five.”
Loew looked doubtfully at Dee. “Madimi is a child,” Dee explained. “She very often says just what comes into her head.”
“A child?” Loew said. “Do angels have ages?”
Dee had never thought of that. They must have, though, since that was the way Kelley saw them.
“Now I see the angel Uriel,” Kelley said. “He tells me that there are thirty-six righteous men on whom the world depends.”
Dee saw Loew tense out of the corner of his eye.
“None of these men know who they are. Each lives in ignorance of his purpose in the world. At the moment of their appointed death, though, they are granted understanding, and they must name an heir to carry on their work. And of course this heir does not know what he has been called upon to do, until it is his turn to die.
“And he says that you—that Rabbi Loew—you are not one of them, as you feared.” Kelley’s voice grew stronger, deeper, and the cadences he spoke in were different. Dee had never heard him like this; he thought that an angel might actually be speaking through him. “You are the thirty-seventh. You are charged to watch over the others and see that they do not come to harm. If they die before their appointed time they cannot name their heir, and the world will end. There is one here in Prague, especially, who must be guarded, whose life may be in danger.”
“Here?” Loew asked. “Who is he?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kelley said. His voice changed again, becoming low and raspy. It sounded familiar, horribly familiar. “He will die, whatever you do. All is lost, hopeless. Nothing you do can make the slightest difference.”
“Who—who are you?” Dee asked.
“Silence!” Kelley said.
And then all the world went blank. Dee could say nothing, see nothing, hear nothing. He struggled to form words, to scream aloud for help, but he could not move.
4
DEE’S MOUTH MOVED WITHOUT HIS VOLITION. “He will die, the world will end, and then we will finally have our triumph,” he heard himself say. “The world will be remade in our image.”
The thing was inside him now. His muscles bunched and released under the thing’s control; it was a sickening feeling. He still could not see.
Loew was saying something, but he could not hear what it was. Where was Kelley?
The thing laughed. “Your children will die,” he/it said. “Everything will die, earth, air, fire, water. This world will become our paradise.”
Dimly he could hear Loew shouting in Hebrew, reciting some sort of chant or prayer. He struggled to open his eyes.
He felt his hand reach out. His fingers brushed something round. He lifted it; it felt cold and heavy in his grasp. The showstone.
He raised the stone as if to throw it. Kelley screamed. Loew’s chanting became louder, and this time, after great struggle, Dee was able to open his eyes. His hand was poised to throw the stone at Kelley.
Do it, the thing whispered within him. Throw it. Why can he see angels and you cannot? Is
that fair?
Why not? he thought. Why could Kelley see angels, after all?
Kelley screamed again, shrilly. The sound brought Dee back to himself. Good God. Where had that surge of anger come from? What had he been about to do?
He forced his fingers to straighten. The stone dropped and landed with a crack on Loew’s desk. He struggled to follow Loew’s chanting, the sinuous turns of the melody.
His control continued to return, a little at a time. Thank God, he thought. Thank God. He took a step and stumbled, then fell into a chair and dropped his head into his hands. He was shivering uncontrollably.
He looked up to see Loew regarding both of them uncertainly. “You have not been entirely honest with me, I think,” Loew said. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” Dee said. He shuddered again; he could not seem to stop. His voice felt raw, as if he had been screaming for a long time.
“You don’t know?” Loew asked.
“It is—it is a demon of some sort. A fallen angel. We first conjured it in London—we called it somehow through the stone. It possessed my daughter Katherine then. That’s why we came here. The demon seemed to say that we could outrun it.”
“And you believed it?”
Dee looked at him. “I did, yes. I was terrified for Katherine. I never thought that it might be lying.”
“And so you brought it here,” Loew said flatly.
“You don’t know what it was like! It attacked my child! I was alone, all alone—no one knew enough to help me. No one could possibly help me. Everything I touched had gone wrong.”
“But why did you call it up in the first place?”
Dee hesitated. He couldn’t accuse Kelley, not with the man standing right there. “I didn’t intend to,” he said.
“I have heard of these demons,” Loew said. “They are souls that were created by God just before the Sabbath. When the Sabbath came he had to stop work and so he could not make bodies for them. Now these spirits fly through the upper air, looking for bodies to inhabit.”
The Alchemist's Door Page 6