The Cabinet of Curiosities (14 page)

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Chapter Twenty-Five

The trial was held in one of the Powder Tower’s laboratories. Perhaps Rudolph had a cruel sense of humour, Lukas thought. ‘It is an experiment.’ Anselmus shrugged. ‘What better place for it than here?’

The experiment was to be overseen by the Emperor’s chief alchemist, Bedrich Ruzicka, a Father Brozek of the Catholic Church, and palace physician Doktor Krohl. If and when things started to happen, the Emperor Rudolph and the Grand Inquisitor would be summoned to observe.

The laboratory was full of extraordinary implements, all dedicated to the task of turning ordinary metals to gold. The heavy smell of chemicals caught in the back of Lukas’s throat and burned his sinuses. Fires glowed in every grate, despite the heat of day, and Lukas immediately began to feel hot and flustered.

‘We are to record everything as it happens,’ said Anselmus. He and Doktor Krohl had both brought their quill pens and paper. Lukas was pleased to note that his uncle was being quite civil, although the warmth he had previously displayed towards him was still absent. Krohl was his usual detached self. Lukas wondered fleetingly if his rivalry with Anselmus would affect his judgement.

His uncle had told him that what he would see and feel would be all in his mind. Lukas was queasily anxious and tried to reassure himself by thinking that he had coped with more frightening things recently.

Lukas was disconcerted to see the room filling up. It seemed as if the palace’s entire collection of alchemists, natural philosophers, clerics and every shade of learned man had come to witness his ordeal.

‘We have a chair for you,’ said Anselmus. ‘Please be seated.’

He turned to the crowd and announced, ‘I shall now prove to you all, by the scientific method, that the cause of my sister’s strange behaviour is entirely due to her ingestion of mouldy grain, which affected her mind.’ He continued: ‘I shall begin by offering my apprentice a small amount of this grain, used to make bread, which we found in her home.’

He held up an ear of barley and walked around his audience, pointing out the spherical black flecks of mould within the seeds. Lukas felt like a magician’s assistant about to be sawn in half.

It tasted horrible of course – like rotting fish – and it was all Lukas could do to swallow it without being sick. His uncle had thoughtfully provided a pitcher of beer to wash it down, which Lukas was happy to drink.

After that things got boring, and within half an hour most of the crowd had left. Father Brozek, the Grand Inquisitor’s representative, said, ‘Anselmus Declercq, this whole performance is a circus designed to save your sister from the attentions of the Inquisition. I move we end this travesty at once.’

Anselmus looked at Brozek coldly and declared, ‘You may call me “Your Eminence”. That is my rightful title. I am physician to the Holy Roman Emperor.’

Much to Lukas’s surprise, Krohl came to Anselmus’s aid. ‘It is well known that poisons take several hours to work their evil on a body – sometimes days. We must be patient, Father.’

Anselmus looked grateful for his rival’s support. Lukas wondered if he even felt a little guilty about the unkind things he had said about him.

Bedrich Ruzicka agreed. ‘You must expect this experiment to last for several days.’

Father Brozek let out a contemptuous sigh and shifted restlessly on his chair.

Another hour passed. The remaining onlookers drifted away and all three observers took out books to read. They tapped their feet and drummed their fingers. The noises were starting to irritate Lukas. He also began to notice that many of the scratches and marks on the laboratory walls resembled angry faces. The light from the window hurt his eyes.

‘Uncle,’ he said, ‘I need to pee.’ He was beginning to wish he had not drunk so much of the beer. Strangely, he also found himself desperately thirsty. Perhaps it was the heat from the furnaces.

As he stood up Lukas seemed to rise above his chair and immediately felt light-headed. Walking out of the room he had the strangest sensation that the stones on the floor were made of a soft springy substance, like dry moss.

A wooden bucket kept in a side room served as a urinal. It was useful to the work of the laboratory, as urine was an ingredient in some of the alchemists’ concoctions.

As Lukas emptied his bladder he was amused to see a throng of grinning faces in the bubbles his urine produced in the half-full receptacle. He began to laugh and returned to the room with a benign smile on his face.

‘Are you all right?’ said Anselmus. ‘You were gone a long time.’

‘I’m sorry,’ beamed Lukas, who thought he had been gone for only a minute. ‘I’m fine. I do feel a little strange though.’

‘Good,’ said Anselmus.

Lukas felt sleepy and closed his eyes for an instant. When he opened them the whole room had changed. It seemed to have lost its depth and its dimensions were now strangely flattened – like a child’s toy theatre where the actors are paper cut-outs on sticks.

‘Can I have some water to drink?’ Lukas asked his uncle.

Anselmus turned to his judges. ‘See how he slurs his words. And look at his eyes. The pupils are greatly enlarged.’

They all gathered round to peer and at once Lukas was terrified. All three of them had taken on the appearance of wolves, and their growling, snarling, slavering mouths were butting him and crowding him. Anselmus, standing to the side, had turned into a timid sheep. Lukas expected him to bleat in protest, but he just stayed silent. Perhaps he didn’t want the wolves to see him.

Lukas’s skin began to itch and the dryness in his throat became unbearable. In the grates the alchemists’ fires were burning unnaturally vivid violet, turquoise and lavender. Lukas looked at his judges, now returned to their seats. Their faces were glowing like coals in the fire.

Lukas was unbearably hot. ‘Uncle, water, please!’ He snatched a brimming tumbler and drank half of it, pouring the rest over his smouldering body.

‘My skin is burning,’ he said. ‘Please, please, bring me more water.’

‘Trickery!’ snapped the priest. ‘I have seen better acting in a nativity play.’

But Krohl and Ruzicka weren’t so sure. ‘Look how his body is covered in sweat,’ said Krohl. He came forward and held a hand to Lukas’s forehead. ‘He has a high fever.’

Anselmus said, ‘We must summon the Emperor. And the Grand Inquisitor.’

Father Brozek was sceptical. ‘I hardly think so. His Imperial Highness and the Grand Inquisitor should not be troubled to witness this play-acting.’

Anselmus snapped. ‘Father Brozek, you are not familiar, I see, with the concept of a scientific experiment. It is based on observation rather than received wisdom. It relies on direct experience. Most especially, those who conduct the research are not trying to reach an answer they have already decided on. The result of the experiment is based on the observable facts rather than the prejudices and blinkered perceptions of closed minds.’

‘I would remind you,’ threatened Brozek, ‘that your sister is in our custody.’

Anselmus was not intimidated. ‘There are three observers, Father Brozek. I am grateful to God, and to the Emperor, that there are three. Two of them have come here with open minds.’

Lukas was reacting badly to this open hostility. Now he was a tiny flailing lizard surrounded by giant black crows, who were alternately pecking at each other then trying to impale him with their beaks. As he writhed in his chair another sensation took hold. He felt as if he was travelling at great speed. This was a novel experience. Until that moment the fastest Lukas had ever been was running down a hill, or dropping from a high overhanging branch into a river. Now, although he was stationary within the room, he seemed to be moving at such a speed he clung tightly to the arms of his chair so as not to fall off.

When he opened his eyes, Rudolph himself was peering at him. But in his altered state Lukas perceived the Emperor as a great rhinoceros – an inquisitive, benign rhinoceros. Lukas started to laugh and reached out a hand to pat him on his huge head.

‘See how he mocks us,’ said another voice from far away. It was the Grand Inquisitor. He and Father Brozek both approached to observe him closer. Lukas looked over and saw two gigantic spiders lumbering towards him on spindly, hairy legs. He shrank back in horror and began screaming.

‘See how Satan produces foul illusions,’ said the Inquisitor.

‘See how he recoils from the servants of Christ,’ said Father Brozek.

‘He is clearly in the grip of demonic possession,’ said the Inquisitor.

Now Lukas’s head was spinning and the grey walls of the laboratory were glowing in violent blues and greens. Overcome by a terrible urge to be sick, he leaned forward and spewed copiously over the Grand Inquisitor.

Lukas perceived the resulting howl of outrage as a vast stream of rats scurrying from the Inquisitor’s mouth. He fell from his seat and cowered in a ball as their tiny scratching paws raced over him.

‘I have seen enough,’ said the besplattered Inquisitor. ‘Satan clearly has designs on the Declercq family. First the sister, now the nephew. Surely it is only a matter of time before our physician here falls victim to demonic possession. I demand that they all be chained and put to the torture.’

‘You
have
seen enough,’ said the Emperor quietly. ‘You will leave now. As will Father Brozek.’

Lukas looked up to see both the cleric and the Inquisitor had turned into giant buzzing wasps. The others in the room were waving them out with great oversized hands.

When they had left, Lukas’s perception of the room changed altogether. The burning feeling had gone. Now everything was smooth cool marble. He called again for water. When he drank it was as if his whole body was like a desiccated sponge filling with liquid. It was the most delicious, delightful sensation he had ever experienced.

The Emperor turned to his witnesses. ‘We have learned much from our Spanish friend Don Dorantes on this matter. The Incas of the New World make concoctions from plants for their own pagan rituals and these produce strange visions. It seems to us that we are witnessing a similar phenomenon.’

Krohl spoke. ‘The boy has been poisoned, Your Highness. It is good that he has voided his stomach. I suggest we administer a remedy before the remaining poison causes further damage to his mind and body.’

‘What would you recommend?’ said Rudolph, with his usual interest in these matters.

‘I have a bezoar in my medical cabinet,’ said Krohl, ‘from the gut of a bull. It is the perfect remedy. I shall go at once and grind a sample of it into a palatable potion.’

The Emperor nodded. ‘Declercq –’ he turned to Anselmus – ‘fetch the rhinoceros horn goblet from our Cabinet. We have it on good authority that it is the best vessel for drinking medicine to avert the effect of poison.’

Anselmus bowed low. ‘It is a great honour you do us, Your Highness.’

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Lukas’s sleep was long, deep and dreamless. When he stirred he realised he was back in his room in Anselmus’s chambers. The light hurt his eyes.

His uncle was sitting at his bedside. ‘Elfriede is released and has returned to her house,’ he said. ‘I have been there with Otka and we have scrubbed and swept the place clean, especially in the kitchen. You must rest until you are strong enough to get up. Then you may continue your studies.’

Lukas felt as though his brain had been sucked out of his eye sockets and then squeezed back into his head through his ears. But even in this pitiful state he realised he had been given a reprieve.

When he was strong enough to sit up and eat, Anselmus brought him a bowl of soup. ‘I want to tell you about Otka,’ he said. ‘Her mother was my housekeeper when I first came here. She’s dead now. Otka was born out of wedlock. We quarrelled when she was with child and she went away to have the baby in Brno. She came back a year later with Otka. We worked out a story. She had married a soldier who had been killed fighting the Turks. It made it all respectable. Then she remarried – you met her husband, Otka’s stepfather, in the Powder Tower – and they lived on Golden Lane. He knows nothing of all this and he must
never
know.’ He put a hand on Lukas’s shoulder. ‘Do you understand?’

Lukas burned with shame but he was too groggy to think of any suitable words to say.

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Chapter Twenty-Six

Three days later, on a fine late-summer afternoon, there came extraordinary news. Philip II, King of Spain and ruler of the greatest empire in the world, was dead. His successor was his son, also named Philip.

The news came as a hammer blow to Dorantes and his cohorts. They met at once at Dorantes’s quarters to review their position. Celestina’s dog was barking constantly. It seemed very agitated and would not shut up. The noise made their fraught meeting unusually bad-tempered.

The new king was a pious man, with no serious vices. They all agreed on that. Unfortunately, as it was widely said, that was his only virtue. He was known to be uninterested in affairs of state and happy to let a handful of favourites rule for him. These were not men the ambassadors admired.

As the Spanish party cursed their luck, Aguilar raised another problem.

‘It grieves me to say it, but I feel we must take matters here into our own hands. Rudolph is a blight on his Empire and the Church. I believe it is God’s will that we implement his removal as soon as possible. With His Majesty King Philip no longer here to give the world and the one true faith the leadership it needs, we cannot sit back and let the most powerful position in Europe continue to be occupied by a heretic and a madman . . . They say he even dabbles in necromancy.’

‘They say many things,’ said Dorantes wearily. ‘We must be careful not to give too much credence to what
they
say.’

A silence descended on the room while the others considered Dorantes’s stinging retort. But even as he said it, Dorantes had wondered if it was true. There was so much there in the Cabinet that could serve as a conduit to the dark side. Even his own sacrificial knife was tainted with unspeakable wickedness. Such things were a magnet to Satan’s servants – drawing the lower hierarchy of demons and infernal spirits to the Earthly plane.

And, from clandestine conversations with disaffected courtiers, the Spanish party had gained the opinion that Rudolph displayed every attribute a ruler was not supposed to possess. He was changeable, frivolous, irresolute; he produced as much exasperation in his fellow courtiers as he did in the visiting ambassadors who waited for months or even years to see him. These were all classic conditions for court conspiracies.

‘But what of the people?’ said Dorantes. ‘Do they clamour for change?’

Aguilar shook his head. ‘They too seem corrupted by freethinking and are altogether too forgiving of heresy. And Rudolph is not a cruel and overbearing tyrant. While the people are free to trade as they wish and have bread on their tables, they care not a jot for the Emperor’s behaviour. Only if the Turk threatens their city will they rise against him.’

‘We must begin at once canvassing support for a new emperor,’ said Dorantes.

Aguilar crossed himself, muttered a short prayer, then spoke in a low voice. ‘That process will take years, and who knows how we may fare? If we are discovered, then our actions may threaten the entire alliance and leave us facing the executioner’s blade. Nonetheless, I believe it is God’s will that we take matters into our own hands. The Emperor is frequently ill. Perhaps, perhaps we could . . . help him on his way?’

‘Don Aguilar, you overreach yourself,’ said Dorantes. ‘Your scheme to discredit the physicians came to nought and now you place your mortal soul in peril. You are relieved of your duties. Go to your quarters and await my instructions.’

Don Valdez, another of the ambassadors, stood up. ‘Forgive me, Your Excellency, but I believe Don Aguilar to be right. Rudolph’s affection for our dear departed King was well known. Perhaps it kept him in some contact with the Church. He has no relationship at all with our new ruler. Who knows how much further he will stray from the true path?’

There were mutterings of agreement around the room.

Dorantes spoke again, trying to keep his temper. It was obvious that Aguilar had the support of everyone else present.

‘If we are implicated in the murder of the Holy Roman Emperor, it could set the two greatest powers in Europe at each other’s throats. Think of it, gentlemen – the two principal champions of the Roman Catholic Church consumed by war? See how Satan’s Protestant allies . . . in England –’ he spat the word – ‘in the German principalities, in the Nordic lands . . . how they would flourish as we tore each other apart.’

Don Aguilar was still firmly seated. He had no intention of withdrawing to his quarters. Feigning a humility he did not feel, he spoke again. ‘Forgive me, Don Dorantes. I spoke only for the good of my country and the love of my God. Rudolph has been a disaster. While his empire falls into squabbling and strife and the Turks threaten to overwhelm our Christian lands, he spends his days lost in his Cabinet of trinkets, contemplating the infernal. I believe it is our duty as Christians to bring his reign to an end.

‘If you will allow me, I would like to introduce you to two friends of mine.’ He left the room, returning a minute later with two men. The barking reached a frenzy and Dorantes ordered Chico to be placed in the room furthest away.

One of the arrivals they all knew. It was the Grand Inquisitor. The other was a small man of eastern European appearance. There was something odd about him. It took a few seconds to realise what it was. One of his ears was missing.

The Inquisitor gave an almost imperceptible nod, as if his status relinquished the need for courtesy. The smaller man, eager to please, smiled to all and bowed low.

Dorantes had gone white with rage. ‘How dare you bring this stranger into our midst. Do you know this man?’ He pointed at the stranger. ‘How can you begin to think he should be a party to our strategy?’

Don Aguilar was calm and ingratiating. ‘Your Excellency, the Grand Inquisitor will vouch for this man’s integrity with his life. As will I. He has assisted us before on our mission. It was he I enlisted to poison and discredit our enemies at court, and their accomplices. He is a firm and steadfast ally and a believer in the one true faith and he has a solution to our problem.’

Dorantes was not encouraged. The plot with the poisoned grain had been cunningly executed, but it had failed in its purpose.

An uncomfortable silence had fallen on the room. The stranger glanced at Don Aguilar, who nodded at him to continue.