He spent a good deal of time on this document, pottering about the house, picking up books and putting them down. He explained in the manuscript itself that he wrote about things almost at random, as they came “out of diverse chests and bags wherein they lay.” He looked for his diary, hoping to resolve some of his questions about when and where certain things had happened, but he seemed to have lost that somewhere between Bohemia and England as well.
One day he found a chest in a corner of the attic that he had completely forgotten. He pried out the nails that held it shut and opened it. Suddenly something transported him back to Bohemia, a chance smell emanating from the chest or the feel of a fabric.
Inside he found the fur he had bought in Transylvania; it looked barbaric in the cold light of England and moths had been busily at work eating holes in it. There was the brooch he had bought for Jane but never given her, and some Bohemian glasses, several of them cracked, and a button made of horn, and a few tarnished Hungarian coins. There was a stack of letters, most of them from Loew, and some moldy books—so that was where that ephemeris had gone to—and at the very bottom a mouse gray velvet bag, also moth-eaten, with something heavy inside it. The showstone.
He opened the bag and took out the stone. And then, as he wrote later, “I had sight in the Crystal offered me, and I saw.”
Dark shapes swam upward from the depths, cities and houses and people. Then one face emerged out of the confusion and resolved itself. Kelley. He jerked back in alarm.
He had not had any contact with Kelley over the long years, did not even know if the man was alive or dead. Curious, he peered into the glass again. He saw that Kelley had returned to Prague, that he had somehow convinced Rudolf he knew the secrets of alchemy. For this he was granted a knighthood; Dee watched the ceremony with a combination of amusement and dismay. And Kelley had married: his new wife was a wealthy Bohemian noblewoman, and with her money he purchased a brewery, a mill, and several houses.
He saw Kelley sitting at his desk, busily writing in a book. As the scene became clearer Dee realized with shock that the book was his own diary. He read all sorts of nonsense over Kelley’s shoulder: how the two of them, Dee and Kelley, succeeded together in finding the Philosopher’s Stone; how they sent an ingot of pure gold to the queen; how Arthur played with toys transformed into gold. Kelley mimicked his script, something he had done a number of times before; he was a perfect forger, whether of handwriting or gold. These lies were all that posterity would know of him, Dee realized, and his old anger, which had never completely left him, returned.
The scene shifted again; Dee understood somehow that he was peering into the future. He saw Rudolf’s madness return, saw the king grow impatient and demand the Philosopher’s Stone. And when Kelley was unable to give it to him he had his new-made knight arrested and thrown into a tower at one of his hunting lodges.
Kelley would remain there for years, Dee saw, while his wife went heavily into debt petitioning Rudolf and his counselors. Finally he would bribe a guard for a rope and lower himself from the window. But the rope would break, and Kelley would be found the next morning unconscious and suffering from a broken leg. Dee watched, his earlier anger now replaced by compassion, as the leg was amputated, as Rudolf, taking pity on his old counselor, brought him back to Prague.
Kelley would spend the next few years in poverty, trying desperately to get back into the king’s good graces. He would be locked up again, this time for debt, attempt escape again, and finally swallow a poisoned drink smuggled in to him by his wife.
Next Dee had a sight of Rudolf, his face contorted in madness. He saw that in a few years what the king had long feared would come to pass: after a good deal of intrigue his brother Matthias would take over his throne. “You have arrived at the conclusion that you must abandon God altogether,” Matthias would say, accusing his brother. “You consort with witches, alchemists, Kabbalistic intrigues and similar things … .” Rudolf would die, alone, insane, and with no legitimate heirs, within the year.
That picture faded and was replaced by a swirl of other images—and these scenes too, Dee realized, portrayed the future. A procession of dark-clad men walked up the center aisle of Judah Loew’s synagogue, investing him with the title of Chief Rabbi of Prague. Erzsébet Bathory sat on trial for the deaths of 650 young women; he saw her found guilty, saw men wall her up in a room in her castle; her food was passed to her through a small slit in the door but otherwise she had no contact with the outside world until her death a year later.
More shapes swam in the glass. Izak and Magdalena moved toward each other carefully; he put his arms around her, and she trembled but did not back away. Then he caught a brief glimpse of them a few years later, sitting by a hearth-fire, surrounded by a great number of cats. They had a ballad sheet spread out on a table before them; Izak was taking the tenor part and Magdalena the soprano. And though they didn’t harmonize completely, Dee could hear that they were satisfied with the music they made.
That sight passed quickly, though the music remained. A young child dressed in a gown of red and green silk appeared in the glass, dancing before him. Her gown changed color as she moved. His skin prickled; he realized that this, at long last, was the angel Madimi. She curtseyed gravely to him, her eyes kind. He understood that this was all he would be granted. But he thought it would be enough.
This much is true: That in the 1580s King Rudolf of the Holy Roman Empire summoned astrologers and alchemists and magicians from all over Europe to his capital in Prague. That Doctor John Dee, the famous Elizabethan student of the occult, was one of the men summoned, along with his associate Edward Kelley. That Rabbi Judah Loew, the man who is credited with creating the golem, an artificial being made of clay, was already living in the Jewish Quarter of the city.
It is not recorded that Dee and Loew ever met. But it is not recorded that they didn’t … .
ALSO BY LISA GOLDSTEIN FROM TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES
The Red Magician
Strange Devices of the Sun and Moon
Summer King, Winter Fool
Tourists
Travellers in Magic
Walking the Labyrinth
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2002 by Lisa Goldstein
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
Edited by Beth Meacham.
THE ALCHEMIST’S DOOR
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
Book design by Heidi Eriksen
eISBN 9781429974349
First eBook Edition : February 2011
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Goldstein, Lisa.
The alchemist’s door / Lisa Goldstein. p. cm.
“A Tom Doherty Associates book.”
ISBN 0-765-30150-4 (hc)
ISBN 0-765-30151-2 (pbk)
1. Dee, John, 1527-1608—Fiction. 2. Judah Loew ben Bezalel, ca. 1525-1609—Fiction. 3. British—Czech Republic—Fiction. 4. Prague (Czech Republic)—Fiction 5. Jews—Czech Republic—Fiction. 6. Astrologers—Fiction. 7. Alchemists—Fiction. 8. Rabbis—Fiction. 9. Golem—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3557.0397 A79 2002
813’.54—dc21
2001059605
First Hardcover Edition: August 2002
First Trade Paperback Edition: April 2003
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