Shadow of Night: A Novel

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by Deborah Harkness


  Black is the badge of true love lost.

  The hue of daemons,

  And the Shadow of Night.

  Shakespeare sighed. Kit’s choice of meter never made any sense to him. And his melancholy humor and morbid fascinations were too dark for these sad times. They made audiences uncomfortable, and there was sufficient death in London. He twirled the quill.

  True love lost. Indeed. Shakespeare snorted. He’d had quite enough of true love, though the paying customers never seemed to tire of it. He struck out the words and replaced them with a single syllable, one that more accurately captured what he felt.

  Daemons. The success of Kit’s Faustus still rankled him. Shakespeare had no talent for writing about creatures beyond the limits of nature. He was far better with ordinary, flawed mortals caught in the snares of fate. Sometimes he thought he might have a good ghost story in him. Perhaps a wronged father who haunted his son. Shakespeare shuddered. His own father would make a terrifying specter, should the Lord tire of his company after John Shakespeare’s final accounts were settled. He struck out that offending word and chose a different one.

  Shadow of Night. It was a limp, predictable ending to the verses—the kind that George Chapman would fall upon for lack of something more original. But what would better serve the purpose? He obliterated another word and wrote “scowl” above it. Scowl of Night. That wasn’t quite right either. He crossed it out and wrote “sleeve.” That was just as bad.

  Shakespeare wondered idly about the fate of Marlowe and his friends, all of them as insubstantial as shadows now. Henry Percy was enjoying a rare period of royal benevolence and was forever at court. Raleigh had married in secret and fallen from the queen’s favor. He was now rusticated to Dorset, where the queen hoped he would be forgotten. Harriot was in seclusion somewhere, no doubt bent over a mathematical puzzle or staring at the heavens like a moonstruck Robin Goodfellow. Rumor had it that Chapman was on some mission for Cecil in the Low Countries and penning long poems about witches. And Marlowe was recently murdered in Deptford, though there was talk that it had been an assassination. Perhaps that strange Welshman would know more about it, for he’d been at the tavern with Marlowe. Roydon—who was the only truly powerful man Shakespeare had ever met—and his mysterious wife had both utterly vanished in the summer of 1591 and had not been seen since.

  The only one of Marlowe’s circle that Shakespeare still heard from regularly was the big Scot named Gallowglass, who was more princely than a servant ought to be and told such wonderful tales of fairies and sprites. It was thanks to Gallowglass’s steady employment that Shakespeare had a roof over his head. Gallowglass always seemed to have a job that required Shakespeare’s talents as a forger. He paid well, too—especially when he wanted Shakespeare to imitate Roydon’s hand in the margins of some book or pen a letter with his signature.

  What a crew, Shakespeare thought. Traitors, atheists, and criminals, the lot of them. His pen hesitated over the page. After writing another word, this one decisively thick and black, Shakespeare sat back and studied his new verses.

  Black is the badge of hell

  The hue of dungeons and the school of night.

  It was no longer recognizable as Marlowe’s work. Through the alchemy of his talent, Shakespeare had transformed a dead man’s ideas into something suitable for ordinary Londoners rather than dangerous men like Roydon. And it had taken him only a few moments.

  Shakespeare felt not a single pang of regret as he altered the past, thereby changing the future. Marlowe’s turn on the world’s stage had ended, but Shakespeare’s was just beginning. Memories were short and history unkind. It was the way of the world.

  Pleased, Shakespeare put the bit of paper into a stack of similar scraps weighted down with a dog’s skull on the corner of his desk. He’d find a use for the snippet of verse one day. Then he had second thoughts.

  Perhaps he’d been too hasty to dismiss “true love lost.” There was potential there—unrealized, waiting for someone to unlock it. Shakespeare reached for a scrap he’d cut off a partially filled sheet of paper in a halfhearted attempt at economy after Annie had shown him the last butcher’s bill.

  “Love’s Labour’s Lost,” he wrote in large letters.

  Yes, Shakespeare mused, he’d definitely use that one day.

  Libri Personæ: The People of the Book

  Those noted thus * acknowledged by historians.

  Part I: Woodstock: The Old Lodge

  Diana Bishop, a witch

  Matthew de Clermont, known as *Roydon, a vampire

  * Christopher Marlowe, a daemon and maker of plays

  Françoise and Pierre, both vampires and servants

  * George Chapman, a writer of some reputation and little patronage

  * Thomas Harriot, a daemon and astronomer

  * Henry Percy, the Earl of Northumberland

  * Sir Walter Raleigh, an adventurer

  Joseph Bidwell, senior and junior, shoemakers

  Master Somers, a glover

  Widow Beaton, a cunning woman

  Mister Danforth, a clergyman

  Master Iffley, another glover

  Gallowglass, a vampire and soldier of fortune

  * Davy Gam, known as Hancock, a vampire, his Welsh companion

  Part II: Sept-Tours and the Village of Saint-Lucien

  * Cardinal Joyeuse, a visitor to Mont Saint-Michel

  Alain, a vampire and servant to the Sieur de Clermont

  Philippe de Clermont, a vampire and lord of Sept-Tours

  Chef, a cook

  Catrine, Jehanne, Thomas, and Étienne, servants

  Marie, who makes gowns

  André Champier, a wizard of Lyon

  Part III: London: The Blackfriars

  * Robert Hawley, a shoemaker

  * Margaret Hawley, his wife

  * Mary Sidney, the Countess of Pembroke

  Joan, her maid

  * Nicholas Hilliard, a limner

  Master Prior, a maker of pies

  * Richard Field, a printer

  * Jacqueline Vautrollier Field, his wife

  * John Chandler, an apothecary near the Barbican Cross

  Amen Corner and Leonard Shoreditch, vampires

  Father Hubbard, the vampire king of London

  Annie Undercroft, a young witch with some skill and little power

  * Susanna Norman, a midwife and witch

  * John and Jeffrey Norman, her sons

  Goody Alsop, a windwitch of St. James Garlickhythe

  Catherine Streeter, a firewitch

  Elizabeth Jackson, a waterwitch

  Marjorie Cooper, an earthwitch

  Jack Blackfriars, a nimble orphan

  * Doctor John Dee, a learned man with a library

  * Jane Dee, his disgruntled wife

  * William Cecil, Lord Burghley, the lord high treasurer of England

  * Robert Devereux, the Earl of Essex

  * Elizabeth I, queen of England

  * Elizabeth (Bess) Throckmorton, maid of honor to the queen

  Part IV: The Empire: Prague

  Karolína and Tereza, vampires and servants

  * Tadeáš Hájek, physician to his Majesty

  * Ottavio Strada, Imperial librarian and historian

  * Rudolf II, Holy Roman Emperor and King of Bohemia

  Frau Huber, an Austrian, and Signorina Rossi, an Italian, women of Malá Strana

  * Joris Hoefnagel, an artist

  * Erasmus Habermel, maker of mathematical instruments

  * Signor Miseroni, a carver of precious stones

  * Signor Pasetti, his Majesty’s dancing master

  * Joanna Kelley, a woman far from home

  * Edward Kelley, a daemon and alchemist

  * Rabbi Judah Loew, a wise man

  Abraham ben Elijah of Chelm, a wizard with a problem

  * David Gans, an astronomer

  Herr Fuchs, a vampire

  * Melchior Maisel, a prosperous merchant of the Jewish Town
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  Lobero, a Hungarian dog sometimes mistaken for a mop, probably just a Komondor

  * Johannes Pistorius, a wizard and theologian

  Part V: London: The Blackfriars

  * Vilém Slavata, a very young ambassador

  Louisa de Clermont, a vampire and sister to Matthew de Clermont

  * Master Sleford, keeper of the poor souls of Bedlam

  Stephen Proctor, a wizard

  Rebecca White, a witch

  Bridget White, her daughter

  Part VI: New World, Old Worlde

  Sarah Bishop, a witch and aunt to Diana Bishop

  Ysabeau de Clermont, a vampire and mother to Matthew de Clermont

  Sophie Norman, a daemon

  Margaret Wilson, her daughter, a witch

  Other Characters in Other Times

  Rima Jaén, a librarian of Seville

  Emily Mather, a witch and partner to Sarah Bishop

  Marthe, housekeeper to Ysabeau de Clermont

  Phoebe Taylor, very proper, who knows something about art

  Marcus Whitmore, Matthew de Clermont’s son, a vampire

  Verin de Clermont, a vampire

  Ernst Neumann, her husband

  Peter Knox, a witch and member of the Congregation

  Pavel Skovajsa, who works in a library

  * Gerbert of Aurillac in the Cantal, a vampire and ally of Peter Knox

  * William Shakespeare, a scrivener and forger who also makes plays

  Acknowledgments

  So many people helped bring this book into the world.

  First, thanks to my always gentle, always candid first readers: Cara, Fran, Jill, Karen, Lisa, and Olive. And a special thanks to Margie for claiming she was bored just as I was struggling with the last edit and offering to read the manuscript with her discerning writer’s eye.

  Carole DeSanti, my editor, served as midwife during the writing process and knows (literally) where all the bodies are buried. Thank you, Carole, for always being ready to lend assistance with a sharp pencil and a sympathetic ear.

  The extraordinary team at Viking, who alchemically transforms stacks of typescript into beautiful books, continues to astonish me with their enthusiasm and professionalism. Special thanks go to my copy editor, Maureen Sugden, whose eagle eye rivals that of Augusta. And to my publishers around the world, thank you for all you have done (and continue to do) to introduce Diana and Matthew to new readers.

  My literary agent, Sam Stoloff, of the Frances Goldin Agency, remains my most steadfast supporter. Thanks, Sam, for providing perspective and doing the behind-the-scenes work that makes it possible for me to write. Thanks are also due to my film agent, Rich Green, of the Creative Artists Agency, who has become an indispensable resource for advice and good humor even in the most challenging of circumstances.

  My assistant, Jill Hough, defended my time and my sanity during the past year with the fierceness of a firedrake. I literally could not have completed the book without her.

  Lisa Halttunen once again readied the manuscript for submission. Though I fear I will never master more than a few of the grammatical rules at her command, I am eternally grateful that she continues to be willing to straighten out my prose and punctuation.

  Patrick Wyman provided insights into the twists and turns of medieval and military history that took the characters—and the story—in surprising directions. Though Carole knows where the bodies are buried, Patrick understands how they got there. Thank you, Patrick, for helping me to see Gallowglass, Matthew, and above all Philippe in a new light. Thanks also to Cleopatra Comnenos, for answering my queries about the Greek language.

  I would also like to express my appreciation to the Pasadena Roving Archers, who helped me understand just how difficult it is to shoot an arrow at a target. Scott Timmons of Aerial Solutions introduced me to Fokker and his other beautiful raptors at the Terranea Resort in California. And Andrew at the Apple Store in Thousand Oaks saved the author, her computer—and the book itself—from a potentially terminal meltdown at a crucial point in the writing process.

  This book is dedicated to historian Lacey Baldwin Smith, who took me on as a graduate student and has inspired thousands of students with his passion for Tudor England. Whenever he spoke about Henry VIII or his daughter Elizabeth I, it always seemed as if they had just had lunch together. Once, he gave me a brief list of facts and told me to imagine how I would handle them if I was writing a chronicle, or a saint’s life, or a medieval romance. At the end of one of my exceedingly short stories, he wrote “What happens next? You should think about writing a novel.” Perhaps that is when the seeds of the All Souls trilogy were first planted.

  And last, but not least, I am sincerely grateful to my long-suffering family and friends (you know who you are!) who saw very little of me during my sojourn in 1590 and welcomed me back when I returned to the present.

  ALSO BY DEBORAH HARKNESS

  A Discovery of Witches

  Table of Contents

  Also by Deborah Harkness

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Contents

  Woodstock: The Old Lodge

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Sept-Tours and the Village of Saint-Lucien

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  London: The Blackfriars

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  The Empire: Prague

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  London: The Blackfriars

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  New World, Old World

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Libri Personæ: The People of the Book

  Acknowledgments

 

 

 


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