The Nostradamus Prophecy

by Theresa Breslin

  I looked up again but Nostradamus had gone.

  The trailing mist had already dispersed as if it had never been. But words do not disappear. They sear the mind like a comet coursing across the night sky.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  AS SOON AS we re-entered the shop Giorgio locked the door from the inside.

  Then he turned and said, ‘I thank you for risking your own safety to come and defend me. Giorgio will not forget that.’

  ‘What am I going to do, Giorgio?’ I asked him.

  ‘The first thing to be done is to make another poultice to replace the one stolen from you,’ Giorgio replied. He went over to his work tables and began to do just that.

  I followed him. ‘I think I should talk to Master Nostradamus and his wife and tell them what happened to me today.’

  ‘No!’ Giorgio turned to face me. ‘It will only add to the load they bear.’ He hesitated. ‘You do know that Master Nostradamus is gravely ill.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. I sat down on a stool, overcome by the hopelessness of my situation. ‘But at least I should give them warning to expect trouble. The Duke of Marcy and his henchman, Bertrand, were close behind me and they might have seen me enter this street. They know I carried medicine prepared by Nostradamus. If they find out that I live here they will come and kill me.’

  ‘Listen,’ said Giorgio. ‘The alarum bell is still sounding. The law of the town states that all citizens are obliged to go indoors while the bell is tolling, and after it stops no one must bear arms in a public place until Lord Thierry has posted written permission. Those ruffians who attacked me outside would not care if they spent a night in prison, but Marcy would not risk being humiliated by Lord Thierry in that way. You are safe here for a little while.’

  ‘But—’

  He put his hand on my head.

  ‘Be calm,’ he said. ‘Now I am going to take this poultice to the lock keeper’s sick child.’

  ‘But you will be arrested if you go into the town.’

  ‘Doctors attending to the sick are exempt from the rule,’ said Giorgio. ‘I want you to wait here until I return. Will you do that for me?’

  I bent my head. ‘Yes,’ I said, for I did not know what else to do.

  But after Giorgio left I thought more of my predicament. The Duke of Marcy had to get rid of the only witness to his terrible deed. He, or more likely his henchman, Bertrand, would be lurking somewhere nearby keeping watch to make sure I did not escape.

  Escape.

  I must escape.

  If I left the house it would mean less trouble for Master Nostradamus and Mistress Anne. Nostradamus was ill and becoming more ill as he searched in vain for the key to his premonition that I had some great role to play in the history of France. He’d said I had a purpose but I did not know what it might be, and neither did he. Despite poring over his charts and casting my horoscope several times, nothing was revealed to him. Day by day he became more frail. Seeking my destiny was hastening his end.

  If I went away he would be forced to give up. Nostradamus would believe I had deserted my purpose. Once he knew that I had gone there would be no need for him to pursue the knowledge that eluded him.

  And I had no choice but to go. I could not seek justice from Lord Thierry. He was such a meticulous man that if he heard my case he would most certainly find out my true identity. Then I would be sent under escort to Paris and Nostradamus would be charged with harbouring a fugitive from the king’s justice. By remaining here I would bring disaster on them. A feeling of utter despair swept over me. Due to my impetuous behaviour my father was in prison and a good priest who’d tried to protect me lay dead. It was better that I left now before I upset the lives of yet more people who had helped me.

  I opened the door leading into the house. The lower floor was empty. I could creep through the kitchen and out of the back door. I thought of myself on the street, a girl alone. When I’d been dressed as a boy I’d felt much safer, and if I used that disguise again perhaps I could elude Marcy and his men. I remembered where Mistress Anne had put my travelling cloak and the rest of my minstrel’s garb. I crept up the stairs to the first landing and listened. Outside the mournful tolling of the alarum continued. Inside the family room I could hear the children talking. Since the Plague outbreak they had all been kept at home. Now the younger ones were excited by the sound of the alarum bell and the older girl was chiding them to keep away from the windows.

  I tapped on Mistress Anne’s bedroom door. There was no reply. Either she was resting or she was upstairs with her husband. The door creaked as I opened it. The bedroom was empty.

  In the corner was the chest wherein lay the clothes that Melchior had given me. I padded across the room and opened the lid. Despite the serious danger I was in I felt my spirits lift. There was my minstrel’s garb and my russet travelling cloak. I stretched out my hand to touch it.

  Suddenly there came a battering on the front door.

  I dropped the lid in fright. The battering sounded again.

  ‘Open up! Open up!’

  I ran to the window and looked out. There were men in the street. Armed men. I heard Mistress Anne calling out, ‘I am coming!’ Her hurried footsteps went past her bedroom door and down the stairs. I came out of her bedroom and went to the turn in the stairs where I could see Mistress Anne opening the front door.

  I cowered on the stairs. There was no way past for me, I was caught by the duke’s men! But then I saw that these soldiers did not wear the livery of the Duke of Marcy. The colours on their surcoats were black and red.

  ‘There has been an incident in the town,’ I heard one of the soldiers tell Mistress Anne. ‘The Lord Thierry has sent me to ensure that Master Nostradamus, his family and servants are all safe at home.’

  ‘We are,’ she replied. ‘Please send word to Valbonnes to thank the Lord Thierry for his concern for our welfare.’

  ‘Lord Thierry has arrived in the castle,’ the soldier replied. ‘He intends to stay there until this crisis is over. We are to remain to guard your doors so that no harm will come to you,’ the sergeant went on. ‘You are to lock and bolt this door from the inside and also any other entrance to your property. The Lord Thierry’s instructions are that no one enters or leaves the house until he can come and speak with Master Nostradamus himself.’

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  I HEARD MISTRESS Anne closing the front door and go towards the kitchen.

  I took my chance to run downstairs and into the shop. I squealed in fright as Giorgio appeared from behind the door. ‘Where did you go?’ he said. ‘You didn’t think to try to run away, did you?’

  ‘Yes – no. Yes.’

  Giorgio gave me a little shake. ‘Because the Duke of Marcy is not visible does not mean he isn’t out there awaiting his chance to pounce. I told you to remain here and you said you would.’

  ‘I know I did,’ I replied miserably, ‘but after you left I thought that if I went away it would mean less trouble for all the people here who have helped me so much.’

  ‘Much good it would do us if you were found in the canal with your throat cut.’ He gave a dry laugh. ‘Even Nostradamus has no cure for that condition.’

  I put my hands to my neck in fright as I thought of the fate of the priest now lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor of the church.

  ‘And anyway,’ Giorgio went on, ‘there is nowhere for you to go. The town is closed down. The gates are shut and will remain that way until the Lord Thierry decides they may be opened again.’

  ‘He has sent soldiers to be stationed outside this house,’ I told him. ‘One of them said to Mistress Anne that they have to wait there until such time as Lord Thierry himself arrives to speak with Master Nostradamus.’

  Giorgio went and peered through a slit in the shutter. ‘Ah,’ I heard him murmur, ‘that is what he decided to do.’ Then he said more loudly, ‘Yes, I see them there in the street. He must already be in the château; his banner is flying from the
tower.’

  I joined Giorgio at the window and looked to where he was pointing. Lord Thierry’s black and red standard fluttered on the highest point of the battlements. The bulk of the Château Emperi loomed over the town. The flag of their overlord would be visible to all citizens. This tangible evidence of his presence might alone be enough to quell any thoughts of riot or disorder. His subjects would know that he had them under his watch. A tremor went through my body. I felt that the eye of this vigilant man was upon me.

  ‘Well then’ – Giorgio turned from the window – ‘we can be assured that you are definitely safe.’ He glared at me. ‘As long as you remain within the house.’

  ‘I will,’ I said meekly.

  ‘And when Lord Thierry comes to the house you will ask for an audience with him to tell him of the murder of the priest.’

  ‘I cannot!’ I gasped.

  ‘Why not?’ Giorgio looked at me searchingly. ‘Only by placing the matter in his hands will you be rid of the responsibility.’

  I did not speak.

  Giorgio continued to stare at me. How could he know my dilemma? If I spoke to the Lord Thierry my true identity would almost certainly be discovered. I couldn’t take that risk. Better to wait until I could change into my male clothes and leave quietly.

  ‘I do not understand you, Miss . . . Lisette.’

  I glanced up as Giorgio hesitated over my name. ‘Very well then,’ he went on, ‘I will say nothing. You must decide yourself if you will speak up about what you saw happen.’

  He went to his workbench and began to stack up the crucibles he used for melting metal. ‘When I was out delivering the child’s medicine I did hear something that might interest you. You recall the mist that appeared in the street and startled both of us?’

  I nodded.

  ‘It appears that Lord Thierry ordered a quantity of quicklime and ammonia salts to be poured into the underground sewers. He saw this done in the eastern countries where he travelled. It’s used as a means to help curb outbreaks of disease. His soldiers are now occupied in fishing hundreds of dead rats out of the canal. So, you see, once again a strange phenomenon can be explained. There is a sewer running under the street outside the shop and obviously the fumes from the ammonia rose up from below our feet.’

  ‘And appeared at exactly the same time as Master Nostradamus was moved to utter his prophecy?’ I said.

  ‘Quite.’ Giorgio busied himself with his work. ‘For us, a fortunate coincidence. Now, let us continue making such things as we can to combat this affliction on man.’

  But neither of us could settle to any real work that afternoon.

  In the evening the soldiers outside changed watch and, despite the sultry weather, they brought a number of pitch torches with them. They set these out along the street, down the lane beside the shop, and round the garden walls.

  ‘There are so many of them and they are so heavily armed,’ Mistress Anne said nervously as we ate supper that evening. ‘It seems more than an ordinary escort.’

  ‘Master Nostradamus is more than an ordinary man,’ Giorgio said soothingly. ‘Lord Thierry will be ensuring that you are all well protected.’

  As night drew on we all got set to retire. Giorgio made himself a pallet bed upon the floor of the shop. The children went to their rooms and Mistress Anne to her own bedroom. I drew aside the curtain of the alcove in the family room where my own bed was laid out, but I did not get undressed to sleep. Instead I took out the almanac Nostradamus had written with his predictions for this year, 1566.

  The sun blushed crimson in the western sky. I’d little need of the candle as I held the page close to the window. Then I raised my head and looked at the glorious sunset, the long slanting rays that brought heat and light and nurtured life. What if Nostradamus’s words of this morning came true? Could this enormous ball of fire somehow become malignant? But how could that happen by man’s hand? How could we change circumstance to make the sun scorch our green earth? I flicked the pages of the almanac. The month of June, 1566. I had been so occupied these last days I’d hardly realized that the last day of June had just passed. What special notations had Nostradamus made to help us through these difficult times?

  None that I could see.

  June the thirtieth.

  The page fluttered and turned.

  July the first.

  Today’s date.

  I read the entry.

  A Strange Transmigration.

  Transmigration. Of what? A human soul?

  Despite the stuffy heat I felt cold. I blinked and read the words again.

  A Strange Transmigration.

  A shadow fell across the page.

  I looked up.

  Master Nostradamus stood there. He held out his hand and spoke to me.

  ‘It is time.’

  Chapter Forty

  AS IF IN an enchantment, I followed Nostradamus up the spiral staircase to the top rooms.

  Every candle was lit, every lamp shone forth as though to stave off the inevitable. The mirrors and coloured glass increased the brightness tenfold and more, causing reflection upon reflection to cascade around the room.

  ‘Come to the inner room,’ the prophet instructed me.

  Once there he walked to the window and looked out. The red sunset poured into the room, but as the light left the sky the weather changed abruptly. The atmosphere became heavy, the air humid and charged with a strange force. Jagged forks of lightning scarred the horizon on the edge of the town, and as we watched, the storm seemed to lull, then gather more force. Thunder rolled in with a great crashing crescendo and the lightning flickered ever nearer.

  ‘You will quit this house tonight, Mélisande, and go to a place of safety. There you will wait until the time comes when you must act.’

  Before I could question him on this Nostradamus pointed to his desk and said, ‘See what is here.’

  On Nostradamus’s desk lay three scrolls.

  Nostradamus spoke to me slowly and carefully. ‘Three papers I now give to you, Mélisande.’ He lifted one of the scrolls and held it up. ‘This is the first one, though in truth it is the last. My own last prophecy. It concerns the days long after you and I are gone from this earth, when humankind must heed the warning I have written therein or suffer the consequences brought about by their own folly. As my own end approaches, the time of the destruction of man presses in upon me.’

  ‘Man does not completely quit this earth?’ I said in anxiety. ‘The Lord must come again before that happens.’

  ‘We squander the bounty that was gifted to us.’ Nostradamus spoke with the utmost fatigue. ‘The blessings that were bestowed, the harvest of the seas and the soil, all freely given for us to use, we have devoured without thought. The mountains and the rivers are there that we may enjoy them, and the beasts of field and forest, the birds of the air. Yet we do not husband them nor share our fortune well amongst ourselves.’

  An image of court life came to me. Nobles weighed down with gem-encrusted clothes while peasants stood behind the royal hunt looking for a small amount of food to ward off starvation. As Nostradamus spoke I fancied I could see it all before me. Visions of what had passed, what is, and what was to come, unspooled before my eyes. Bizarre sights I saw, and sounds I’d never heard before. Unimaginable noises, the clamour of many voices filled the room, the heaving of massive machinery, marching men, loud reports as if of mighty cannon. I saw fires rage without ceasing, thick clouds mushroom amid a profusion of winged monsters in the sky; carriages of metal soared higher than eagles and plunged down into the depths of the seas.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and put my hands over my ears.

  ‘Ah, Mélisande,’ Nostradamus sighed as he watched me, ‘I see you have enough foresight that you too are able to share my vision of the Sixth Extinction and the end of days.’ He made such an exhausted heave of his shoulders that I thought he would sink down to the floor. ‘There is nothing I can do. Nor you either.’ He handed me the manuscript. �
�But I charge you with finding a safe place to keep my last prophecy until the time comes for it to be revealed. We can only hope that those who come after us are alert and listen to the warning therein.’

  As I took the scroll from him I looked into the eyes of the prophet. I realized that death was encroaching and these would be his final words to me, and at once my mind became clear and my thoughts focused.

  Nostradamus regarded me seriously. ‘That is the simplest of your tasks, Mélisande. The other task is more difficult and to accomplish it you will need this pass I have prepared for you. My status is such that it should assist in your freedom of movement.’ He gave me the second scroll, which was stamped with his seal and stated that the bearer was acting on instructions of the famed Doctor Nostradamus, personal friend of Catherine de’ Medici. It requested that the person carrying this pass be allowed free passage wherever they chose to go.

  ‘As for this prophecy . . .’ He lifted up the last piece of paper. It was blank. ‘This is the one that concerns your destiny, Mélisande.’

  ‘There is nothing written there,’ I said.

  ‘I had hoped that I would have more to add than the lines I do know. But now there is no time left to me. So I will write what I can.’ And saying this, Nostradamus took up his pen and wrote two verses upon the paper.

  ‘In the space of six years my prophecy of the slaughter in Paris will come to pass,’ he told me. ‘During that time you must tell no one of the existence of these papers.’

  ‘But surely we should let the queen regent know that her son’s life is in danger, then she can prevent this awful deed from taking place?’

  ‘Know this, Mélisande: you cannot alter the course of this most vile massacre, but you may help the king who will lift France out of the mire in which she wallows and lead her to greatness and prosperity. And in all of this one thing is clear to me; six years must pass before these events take place, as Leo, the sign of princes, is rising. Therefore you must be patient, and wait until the time is favourable to act, yet not be distracted from that which has to be done.’