The Showstone

by Glenn Cooper

  ‘Ah, Talbot, here you are. Would you care for a glass of sack?’

  Hilton brought a bottle and two pretty glasses and left when Dee dismissed him.

  ‘We will eat shortly,’ Dee said. ‘And then we will retire to my chambers for our business. You have the showstone, I trust.’

  ‘I would sooner forget to bring my head, good sir.’

  The remark delighted Dee who laughed heartily and offered a toast.

  Supper was served in the dining room. The cook served a nice joint accompanied by a savory pudding. Hilton stood by, pouring the wine and, Talbot imagined, listening and remembering. John Dee controlled the conversation, steering it mainly toward his subjects of interest, Kabbalistic linguistics and optics, while Talbot played the role of keen student, asking leading or clarifying questions. Jane Dee was a model of matrimonial decorum, eating in silence, motioning for Hilton to fill glasses, and ringing a small bell to summon the cook.

  ‘Do you know why I have devoted so much of my work to understanding the optical properties of light?’ Dee asked, picking a stray bit of leek from the sleeve of his robe.

  ‘Pray, tell me why, Doctor?’

  ‘It is known that celestial light is emitted by the Creator and imagined through the eyes. I and others have developed mathematical rules to demonstrate that when such light is reflected by polished surfaces, as in crystals or your Aztec stone as I will call it, the rays when entering the eyes may send the soul, particularly the virgin soul, into a state of intense awareness. Angelic spirits may travel on these rays and when the archemaster has properly prepared himself through prayer and meditation he may thereby perceive these angelic spirits. A scryer such as yourself may receive such rays of light in concert with their winged travelers. If you like I will share my mathematical equations with you.’

  ‘I would like to see them, although I confess, I may not fully understand. I was not a particularly excellent student of mathematics.’

  While Dee was speaking, Talbot was furtively noticing Jane Dee. Her brown dress was exceedingly modest with a high neckline and cloth to the wrists and ankles, but Talbot could follow the contour of her thin neck to the point where it disappeared under her collar and imagine more of her feminine anatomy. When there was an opening he attempted to draw her into the conversation, perhaps to enjoy the melodious sound of her voice.

  ‘I wonder, madam, whether you share your husband’s interest in the realm of the spirits?’

  Dee stopped chewing, seemingly taken aback by Talbot’s sudden questioning of his wife. For her part, she took the cloth napkin draped over her shoulder and serenely dabbed at the corner of her mouth.

  ‘My role is to serve my good husband and raise his children. In matters of his spiritual research, I can best be his helper by keeping the young ones from wandering into his rooms during his actions and interrupting his important work.’

  Talbot nodded but before he could ask more of her, Jane rang her bell and asked the cook to remove the plates.

  Dee removed his napkin, placed it over the arm of his chair and, pointing toward the window, declared that the evening was well enough along that he and Talbot might begin their night work.

  Jane had not betrayed any emotion during the meal but when the men rose, she frowned, evidently anxious to ask a burning question.

  ‘I wonder, Master Talbot, whether you have made the acquaintance of my husband’s last scryer, Barnabus Saul?’

  ‘I do not know him, madam, but I do know some gentlemen who have had the pleasure.’

  ‘And what have you heard of him from these gentlemen?’

  Talbot ran his hands through his hair to make sure his locks fell sufficiently over his ears to conceal his deformities.

  He answered her question with one of his own. ‘May I ask your opinion of Master Saul, madam?’

  ‘I found him most agreeable.’

  ‘I see. I would not wish to taint your considered opinion of him so I will keep my tongue.’

  John Dee was having none of it. He ordered his guest to say what he knew.

  Clearing his throat and showing some discomfort Talbot said, ‘Well, sir, I was told that Barnabus Saul has been speaking behind your back of the discomfort he had at continuing in your employ.’

  ‘And why is that?’ Dee demanded.

  ‘He said he was poorly paid for his services and implied that he was coerced to make contact with darker sorts of spiritual presences.’

  Dee slammed a hand down on the table, upsetting a goblet. ‘That is an outrageous lie. Hear you this, Jane? It is well that he is gone from our household. Come upstairs, Talbot, I will show you how I do, in truth, operate.’

  The little chamber where Dee and Talbot retired was through his book-lined study, the last in a series of linked rooms. It was the quietest in the house, at the rear, and the one least likely for the smaller children to wander into. The room, because of its lack of proximity to the central chimney stack, had no fireplace. At night, the light came only from candles, so Dee went about lighting them from the one he carried up the stairs. The candle holders were iron tripods that stood on the floor, and Dee mumbled that they were of his own design. Once the room was alight, he pulled the curtain over the sole window. It overlooked the churchyard and he did not want to tempt the curiosity of the prying minister out for an evening constitutional.

  Talbot looked around at the sparse furnishings. In the center of the room on a bare floor was a low square table, only a few inches off the ground. A red cushion lay before it. A small writing desk and chair stood facing the table. There was a chest of drawers against one wall topped by a cabinet with glass doors. Inside it, wooden shelves held two rows of leather-bound books.

  ‘Well then,’ Dee said, ‘where is your black beauty?’

  Talbot reached into his capacious robe and removed his leather pouch and a folded brass stand that he said was purpose-made for the stone.

  ‘This table?’ Talbot asked.

  ‘Yes, right there, if you will.’

  The obsidian mirror fit snugly onto the stand. He placed it at the center of the table and Dee bade him to kneel on the cushion. Then he began moving candles and stands around, checking on how they were reflecting onto the surface of the stone, and seeking Talbot’s opinion on their placement. When they were both satisfied, Dee procured the materials he needed from the cabinet: a bound book of parchment for his notations, a pot of ink, a pair of spectacles he had obtained during one of his journeys to the Low Countries, and a fresh quill that he proceeded to sharpen with a knife. Then he pulled up the chair to the small desk so that he was facing Talbot.

  ‘Shall we begin?’ Dee asked.

  ‘I will follow your lead, sir,’ Talbot said from his kneeling position.

  ‘Then let us seek the Blessed Angels of God and let us pray.’

  In unison they said, ‘Gloria patri et filio et Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio, et nunc et semper: et in saecula saeculorum. Amen.’

  Dee pinched the spectacles to his narrow nose, dipped his quill, and wrote at the top of a blank page: Anno 1582, Martii Die 10, Hora 11 ¼ Ante Meridiem. Then he began to stare at the young man who was staring into the showstone. They spoke no words between themselves for five minutes, ten, then fifteen when Dee saw Talbot suddenly stiffening, his eyes widening.

  ‘What see you?’ Dee whispered.

  Talbot said, ‘A man clothed with a long robe of purple all spangled with gold. On his head, a garland of gold.’

  ‘Has he—’

  Talbot put a finger across his lips, then said, ‘His name, he says, is Uriel.’

  Dee became excited and attempted to write the name on his parchment, but the ink had dried. As he re-dipped his quill he muttered that Uriel was the fire of God, the archangel of salvation. ‘Has Uriel appeared to you before?’

  Talbot replied that he had not and that this was an auspicious start to their action.

  ‘Ask him if he is answerable to this stone.’

  Talbot
repeated the question then relayed the answer. ‘He says, “I am.”’

  Dee knew that were he to come around the table and gaze into the showstone he would see nothing, nor did he expect to hear Uriel’s speech. The angelic spirits made themselves manifest only to the scryer.

  ‘Are there more beside you?’ Dee asked via Talbot.

  Uriel replied, ‘Michael and Rafael but Michael is foremost in our works.’

  Dee marveled at hearing the names of the two great archangels, then scribbled the answer and asked Talbot what language Uriel was employing.

  ‘Latin, dear Doctor,’ he said excitedly. ‘Clear and excellent Latin.’

  ‘I have so many questions for him,’ Dee murmured. ‘I hardly know where to start.’

  He asked if one of the earlier books he had written, The Book of Soyga, had merit. It was a manuscript including Kabbalistic tables and magical squares of letters passed down over the centuries from magus to magus. To Dee’s amazement, Uriel replied that the book had been revealed to Adam in Paradise by the good angels of God.

  Dee had, for a great while, been frustrated at his inability to decipher the magical tables. He said, ‘Oh, my great and long desire has been to be able to read those Tables of Soyga.’

  Uriel replied, ‘These things mostly involve Michael. Michael is the angel who illuminates your path. And these things are revealed in virtue and in faith, not by force.’

  Dee nodded at the wisdom and after he wrote down the answer he was emboldened to ask how long he might live.

  ‘A hundred and odd years,’ Uriel said.

  A smile cracked Dee’s dour countenance. Talbot couldn’t help but to smile as well.

  Dee continued, ‘Is there a special time or hour to be observed to deal for the enjoining of Michael?’

  Suddenly Talbot went quiet and after a time, Dee asked him why.

  ‘A strange image has appeared in the stone,’ Talbot whispered. ‘I know not what it is.’

  ‘Can you draw it onto my parchment?’ Dee asked.

  Talbot labored for several minutes with pen and ink and passed the leather book back to Dee. He saw written upon it a broad-based triangle, filled with odd pictograms he could not fathom.

  ‘Good Lord!’ Dee whispered. ‘This must be angel writing. Ask Uriel what is the intent of this.’

  The answer came quickly. ‘It is from Michael. Engrave this seal in gold for protecting the body in all places, time, and occasions. It is to be worn on the chest.’

  And with that, Uriel was gone.

  Talbot pushed himself up from the cushion and rubbed hard at his aching leg. Dee was fast to hand him his walking stick that had been left against a wall.

  ‘Robert!’ Dee bellowed. ‘Robert, come here.’

  Robert Hilton immediately appeared from the adjoining study. While Dee did not seem to be put off by his servant’s close presence, Talbot looked on suspiciously, worried perhaps that indeed Walsingham’s man was spying not on his master this night, but on him.

  ‘Robert, bring us some wine,’ Dee said. ‘We will have it in my study.’

  Hilton bowed slightly then left them.

  ‘An invigorating and illuminating start to our action,’ Dee declared.

  ‘It was indeed,’ Talbot said. ‘I see you are pleased.’

  ‘I am utmost pleased, good sir. Your showstone is powerful and your scrying is most excellent.’

  ‘Perhaps I can return in a few days.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ the magus exclaimed. ‘You will rest here tonight as my guest. Robert will prepare a bed. Tomorrow night we will have our second spiritual action. I cannot wait for several days to pass. To think, man! Michael made his presence known through Uriel. Michael! The greatest of the angels all but spoke to me.’

  Dee crawled into his bed wearing only his night shirt. Jane stirred beside him. He could tell by her ordinary breathing that she was awake.

  ‘Wife? Why are you not asleep?’

  ‘I could not.’

  ‘Are you troubled?’

  ‘Less so now that Master Talbot has departed.’

  ‘But he has not. He is staying the night so that we may resume our work tomorrow evening.’

  She said nothing.

  Dee filled the void with his enthusiasm, recounting what had occurred. When still she said nothing, he asked what troubled her.

  ‘I do not like Edward Talbot,’ she said. ‘I do not trust his intentions. If I had a say in this I would not have him sleeping under a roof that shelters our children.’

  ‘Nonsense, woman. He is a fine enough fellow. Clerkson assures me of his character.’

  ‘And his cropped ears?’

  ‘Surely a misunderstanding lay at the root of whatever the misfortune that befell him. Now we must sleep. I will surely dream of angels and I pray they will visit you as well.’

  Late the following night, Dee and Talbot once again took their positions on either side of Talbot’s showstone and after offering up prayers, the scryer began to stare into the reflected candlelight. Giddy with anticipation, Dee waited for Talbot to speak. Before very long he whispered that Uriel had returned.

  ‘Tell him that I desire to learn the mysteries of his realm. Tell him I wish to invoke the help of Michael and other great angels.’

  Uriel replied enigmatically, ‘There is a seat of perfection from which things shall be shown unto thee which thou hast long desired.’

  Dee wrote furiously then told Talbot to ask what was meant by a seat of perfection. The series of answers startled him. As he transcribed what were in essence a series of instructions, the small room filled with the sound of Talbot’s voice and the scratchings of quill upon parchment. There was more to it than Uriel’s words. Talbot also had to pause to write down the symbols and pictograms that appeared to him on the smooth surface of the polished obsidian.

  Uriel commanded that a new scrying table be built for the showstone. By the angel’s orders, the table was to be made of sweet wood, two cubits high and two cubits square. Four rows of names and symbols were to be carved on each side of the table and stained with yellow oil. The showstone was to be set atop a Sigillum Dei, or seal of God, as he put it, ‘already perfected in a book of thyne.’ Dee had earlier published his modification of the ancient seal, a magical diagram consisting of two circles, a pentagram, and three heptagons, labeled with the name of God and his angels. It was an amulet intended to give the initiated and blessed magician power over all creatures save the mighty archangels. According to Uriel, the Sigillum had to be made of perfect, clean wax, without color, and needed to be nine inches in diameter and an inch and a half thick. On the back surface, a peculiar cross pictogram was to be engraved. Under each of the table legs, a miniature copy of the Sigillum was to be placed. Finally, a square of fine red silk was to be placed on the table, over the large Sigillum, hanging down with four tassels at the corners.

  A good hour had passed, and Dee was exhausted by the demands flung at him by the angel and his need to carefully write down every detail.

  ‘Is there more?’ he asked Talbot, who was wincing from the pain shooting down from his withered leg.

  Talbot looked again into the showstone. Uriel was gone. He heard something at the study door and he imagined that Robert Hilton was there with his ear pressed into it.

  ‘Uriel says one more thing,’ Talbot said.

  ‘Tell me.’

  Talbot lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘He says there is an evil spirit in the house named Lundrumguffa who seeks your destruction. He has entered into the bodies of one of your manservants. He seeks the destruction of your daughter and your wife too.’

  His daughter was only nine months old. ‘My daughter, Katherine?’

  ‘Yes, her. If you do not discharge this servant from your house on the morrow, he will harm Katherine and your Jane.’

  ‘Which servant?’ Dee asked in utter alarm. ‘George, who toils in the stables, or Robert Hilton?’

  ‘He says the man possessed
by evil is Robert Hilton.’

  ‘Then he will be gone, I say!’

  Talbot set his jaw in satisfaction. Two spies in one household was one too many. He announced that Uriel had taken his leave, although the angel had, in truth, departed before Talbot began his slander of Robert Hilton.

  The two men got to their feet and Talbot leaned heavily on his stick.

  ‘What say you, Doctor Dee? Are you satisfied with this action?’

  ‘More than satisfied, Talbot. This has been an extraordinary evening. There is much work to do. I must commission a carpenter to build me a table and molds for wax Sigilli. I must procure perfect wax and red silk. The sooner I have fashioned these spirit furnishings the sooner we may get to our work of mastering the angel mysteries and indeed all the mysteries of the world.’

  ‘So, you will want me as your scryer?’

  ‘Of course, my good man, of course! How could you think otherwise?’

  ‘And my salary of fifty pounds per annum?’

  Dee stroked at his beard. ‘A great deal, sir. Could you be content for less?’

  Talbot stared at the magus. All the mysteries of the world to be revealed and he was haggling?

  ‘I would not be content for less, Doctor Dee.’

  TWELVE

  Eve took a sick day and spent it cleaning every inch of her bungalow. By the early evening, when Cal pulled into her driveway, the place was pristine. The only thing that would have made it nicer was a fresh coat of paint. It had only been three days since his call. He had apologized, told her he’d gotten her number online from a White Pages site. It wasn’t major sleuthing. There was only one Eve Riley in Arizona her approximate age, assuming her author photo was of recent vintage. By now, she knew about him too. Cal Donovan was all over the Internet. Dozens of photos from web sites, conference agendas, press conferences, his own author headshots. She sorted through them, found a favorite, a manly sort of shot, taken at an archeological dig in Turkey, and printed it out. When his car door slammed shut, she realized it was still on the cork board in her kitchen, and she hurriedly pulled it down and put it in the cutlery drawer.