The Alchemist's Door (31 page)

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Authors: Lisa Goldstein

BOOK: The Alchemist's Door
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No one moved, not even Mordechai. Why doesn't he run, Dee thought. Is he staying here to—to somehow help us? Is that what being righteous means?
Loew began to recite again. His voice sounded hopeless, as if he knew what he did was futile. The psalm had once caused the demon to leave Rudolfs body, Dee remembered, but he knew it would not be effective a second time. The demon had grown too strong.
“For my second command—bring me all the gold in the world. Bring me everything. I want to collect everything, to own it all, to contain the world within my castle. I want all the women in the world as well. A different woman each night, for as long as I live. And I want to live forever.”
Suddenly Dee understood, horrified, what would happen next. The demon would feed Rudolf's appetites while it continued to give its own orders. No one in the crowd would obey it, but sooner or later it would make its way back to the castle, and everyone there would simply assume it was Rudolf. None of them would be convinced of the demon's real nature; the story sounded fantastic, even to Dee. And it would have at its beck and call the entire might of the Holy Roman Empire.
Rudolf fell to the ground, writhing. His arms and legs shot out at strange angles; his head knocked against the ground several times, drawing blood. The green flame circled him and then jumped the gap between them to sizzle along his skin. Rudolf jerked and gasped.
Dee could not allow the demon to keep Rudolf's body. He had once drawn the demon to himself, in Rudolf's castle. He closed his eyes to brace himself and reached out.
The familiar blackness engulfed him, and the familiar loathsome feeling as the demon took control over his movements. “I want Rudolf back,” it said petulantly. It stared with Dee's eyes as the king continued to twist in spasms on the ground. “Give me Rudolf!”
Rudolf began to mutter. Drool flecked his lips. “I want all the flowers,” the king said. “All the trees, all the stones, all the lakes and rivers and oceans. Everyone and everything in the world must swear fealty to me. All the angels, all the demons. God himself.”
He's no longer frightened, Dee thought. His mind has gone, has fled from the horrible thing happening to him. The demon's lost its hold. That's why it was so easy to call it to me.
He quickly hid the thought from the demon, sending it to the clear space he had made in his mind. The demon must not know why it could no longer take over Rudolf; it might think of a way around his madness, a way back in.
The demon raged within Dee, desperately trying to return to Rudolf. The green fire arced toward him, striking him unpredictably and then jumping back, scorching his already raw hands and arms and face. The sparks maddened him but he could not move to protect himself.
Other powers flew within the circle as well: a thin silver stream that strengthened as Rabbi Loew spoke, a gold shimmer that came from Magdalena. Mamugna was saying something, and Sendivogius and even Kelley; the babel confused him, made it hard to concentrate.
Pictures came into his mind, and this time Dee knew that they came from the demon, because he could never conjure up anything so terrible. He saw his daughter Katherine taken by the demon; saw her grow up within his house, an obscene parody of his beloved child; saw the demon relinquish control just enough for Katherine to understand what was happening to her before it finally quenched her immortal soul. He saw it move from Jane to Arthur to Michael, mimicking their behavior perfectly, then saw it reveal itself to him, leaving him shocked and despairing to realize that he had, all unknowing, spoken to it, eaten with it, made love to it.
“Give me back Rudolf!” the demon said. “Give him back or I will torment you like this forever, I swear it!”
Why did the demon think he could return it to Rudolf? He could only summon it to him, nothing else.
Or was there more? Could he have more power over the demon than he thought? Why didn't Kelley control it? Kelley had been the one to summon it, after all.
Had he, though? There must be no more lies, Dee had learned that much. Kelley had summoned it, but then, as Kelley
had just reminded him, Dee himself had said that knowledge was worth any price paid for it. And in offering to pay the price Dee had invited the demon in, had allowed it to bridge the gap between the worlds. Suddenly he knew what he had to do next.
He wrested control from the demon—
his
demon—and began to chant. He spoke psalms in Hebrew, prayers in Latin, hymns in English. If Magdalena was right and all beliefs were equally true—and judging from the jangle of light and noise coming from all parts of the circle it seemed that she was—then it didn't matter what he said. He could recite nonsense syllables if he wanted to. It was important only that he concentrate, keep his goal firmly in mind, and pray sincerely to his god.
Someone spoke loudly over him and he faltered, forgetting what he had been about to say. It was Kelley, chanting to the demon, working to strengthen it so that it could possess him fully again. He felt the demon well up within him like a contaminated tide, pulling him under, drowning him.
No. Concentrate. Nonsense syllables. Suddenly he remembered his son Arthur, playing at his feet. “I can speak Czech,” Arthur had said. “Listen.”
“Str
prst skrz krk!”
he shouted triumphantly.
To his amazement the demon's hold weakened. He took control of it quickly and sent it into the body of the golem.
Yossel opened his eyes very wide. “I like this body,” the demon said with Yossel's mouth. “It's very strong, stronger than any of these others.”
The green fire hovered over Yossel. Everyone had gone quiet; all the prayers to all the various gods were silenced.
Yossel's arms flexed. His legs moved. “I don't need Rudolf after all,” he said. He scowled, the anger clear on his face for anyone to read. “This body is strong enough to take care of the thirty-sixth with no help from anyone. This is the one I want.”
The golem stood still. Dee watched it closely. He hoped
that the demon was spreading itself throughout the body, taking on substance, melding itself with the clay man. It had wanted the world of the senses, of feeling, and what better way to explore the world than with a body more powerful than any other?
Yossel began to change; he seemed stronger, more confident. His malevolent expression deepened. “I'll be able to study now, and to pray. To marry Rivka. To do anything I like, really, marry anyone I like. I'll keep Loew locked in a room, just as he kept me, and I'll visit him whenever I have a question about my studies.”
The golem looked around the circle. “No, what am I saying? I won't need to pray. I'll be king, god. Everyone will pray to me. I'll make others like me—no one will ever treat me harshly or laugh at me again. I'll never be alone. All I have to do is kill this man here. A fair bargain, eh, peddler?”
He took a step toward Mordechai. Mordechai stood still, his gaze steady.
“No!” Loew said. “No, don't! I command you!”
The golem stopped. Emotions passed quickly over his face: hatred, desire, fear, longing, uncertainty. Finally he looked at Loew with something like love. His uncertainty returned. He moved toward his creator, went back to Mordechai. He shuffled to a spot midway between the two, in front of Dee, then bowed his head to Loew, his mouth open, his expression unreadable.
Dee reached up quickly into his mouth and took out the
shem.
The golem fell inert to the ground. Dee looked around the circle, not daring to breathe. Would the demon leave its new body and possess another one? Or had it put too much of its essence into the golem, had it died along with the golem's body?
The green flame guttered out. No one screamed or cried
out or hurt themselves. No one moved. Rabbi Loew bent to the day body sprawled out on the cobblestones and rubbed at the first letter on its forehead. The
aleph
disappeared; now the word spelled
met,
or “dead.”
Loew stood up carefully. “It's over,” he said.
“Not yet,” Dee said. “We have to close the door. We need to make certain that nothing like this comes through to our world ever again.”
“Do you?” Erzsébet said. He had nearly forgotten she was there. “You know what will happen then. No more magic. No more wonders, no more alchemy. Are you ready to sacrifice all that?”
He ignored her. “Quickly!” he said. “The demon was one of the things holding the door open. We must do it now, before something else comes through.”
“I've learned a bit about you, Doctor Dee,” Erzsébet said. “You desire knowledge more than anything in the world. What will happen when you can no longer look into your scrying glass and converse with angels, when you cannot understand the mind of God? How much will you be able to learn on your own, with no one and nothing to help you?”
“The scrying glass?” Dee laughed harshly. “I learned nothing from the glass. And at least my intentions were good—as you said, I wanted knowledge of God. You only wanted to bathe in blood and stay young forever.”
“What is wrong with that?”
“Quiet!” he said. He reached out and felt the door standing open between the worlds. Cold wind and darkness and glittering stars swirled behind it. “Help me,” he said to Loew.
They pushed together. The door resisted. Erzsébet smiled mockingly at them and chewed her fingernail. “I bathed in blood today, Doctor,” she said. “I'm as strong as I'll ever be. I won't let you close the door.”
“Push!” Dee said. He thought of his children, of Katherine taken over by the demon. He could not let anything like that happen again, not to anyone he loved.
Something behind the door pushed back. Something or several things: the demons were rousing in anger at the closing of their doorway to Prague. A tentacle snaked out and crept along the cobblestones. He kicked at it frantically and it retreated. Erzsébet laughed.
Great mouths filled with teeth appeared in the doorway. He strained with his last bit of strength; he could feel Loew laboring beside him. And someone else was helping them; he recognized Magdalena.
Suddenly something gave. He made one last effort. A resounding slam echoed out into the streets.
“God damn you, Doctor Dee!” Erzsébet said. She turned and ran.
“No,” Dee said, looking after her. “No, I don't think I'm the one who's damned.”
“Come,” Loew said. “We still have to get rid of the golem's body.”
“Oh God,” Dee said. He leaned against the side of a building. “Oh God, I'm so tired.”
“As well you should be. We did good work here today.” He looked around him and saw Mordechai. “Mordechai, will you help us carry the body?”
Dee had never heard him sound so deferent. Well, Mordechai was the thirty-sixth man, after all, a righteous man, one of those on whom the world depended.
“Certainly,” Mordechai said.
“Where are we going?” Dee asked.
“The synagogue.”
“The synagogue? What will you—”
“Don't worry. We'll take him upstairs and put him in the attic. And there let him rest for all the long centuries to come. I will destroy all my notes, and if we are fortunate no one will ever learn what I have done.”
T
HE CROWD BEGAN TO DISPERSE. IZAK and Magdalena walked away, Magdalena wearing her true shape, the young woman. Dee realized that she would never be able to change again, that the magic she had used was gone from the world. But she seemed for the first time to inhabit her body: still wary and suspicious, but no longer fearing men and what they might do to her in their lusts. She had faced something far worse, and had triumphed.
He saw, horrified, that the king still writhed on the ground, muttering something softly to himself. He bent to listen.
“I want you all killed,” Rudolf said petulantly. “All of you. Why does no one obey me? I am your king, your emperor. I want that one killed first.”
To Dee's surprise the king pointed at Kelley. “You did not tell me you found the thirty-sixth, did you, Master Kelley? What were you going to do with him? Do you think you're strong enough or wise enough to rule the world yourself? I'm sick of your betrayals.”
Kelley turned and fled. “Bring him to me,” Rudolf said.
Only Dee and Loew and Mordechai and Sendivogius were left. No one moved. The king threw back his head and howled like a wild animal, then slammed his head against the ground. “Bring him to me, I said! You are all dead, all dead men!”
Chills broke out along Dee's arms. “I think he's gone mad for good this time,” he said.
“He wasn't strong enough,” Loew said. “The demon's possession, the currents of magic flowing around him—it was all too much for him.”
“You,” Dee said to Sendivogius. “Help him back to the castle. If he recovers his wits I'm sure you'll be rewarded handsomely. Money, patronage, whatever you want.”
Sendivogius bent to Rudolf and hoisted the king's arm over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” Rudolf asked. “I said I wanted you killed. Stop! Where are you taking me?”
Sendivogius headed toward the castle. The anger seemed to leave the king; he walked quietly, leaning heavily on the other man. Suddenly he stopped and howled aloud. Sendivogius spoke soft words to him, urging him to continue.
Dee watched them until they were out of sight. Then he and the others positioned themselves around the golem, Mordechai at his head and Dee and Loew at his feet. Mordechai called out, “One, two, three!” and they all lifted the body together. It was surprisingly light. Because Mordechai, the thirty-sixth righteous man, was helping them?
Perhaps, Dee thought, it was because he himself suddenly felt wonderfully renewed, as if he could carry the golem with no help from anyone. He had not backed down. He had finally faced his demon.
They began the long walk to the Jewish Quarter. Mordechai was in the lead, walking backwards and every so often craning around to see the road. “The golem—” Loew said.
“Yes?”
“At the end, when he looked at me. Do you think he sacrificed himself knowingly? That he obeyed me to save my life?”
“I don't know. Maybe. Maybe he did.”
They walked for a while in silence. “What was that you recited?” Loew asked.
“I—it was something my son taught me. It means—”
“I know what it means.” He sounded amused. “I wondered why you said it.”
“I don't know. It popped into my head just then. No, wait. I said it because—because the goal of the alchemist is the union of opposites. Man and woman, sun and moon. And Englishman and Bohemian, I suppose. Or Christian and Jew.”
“What are you saying? That an old tongue twister is really an alchemical formula?”
Dee laughed. “Well, no, not really. I think what I mean is that there is something to be said for unions, for meetings, for traveling. That two separate things, or ideas, or countrymen, can combine into one thing, something different, maybe something better. Me, for example. I feel as if I've changed a great deal since I came here.” He laughed again. “I told Vilém that I could best pursue the goal of alchemy outside the study. It's not about making gold, not really. That's what Kelley never understood.”
“I don't think I follow you.”
“Don't you? But you learned something too, didn't you? I saw your face change when the demon possessed you.”
“I did, yes.”
They had been keeping their eyes on Mordechai ahead of them, but now they turned and looked at each other. Dee opened his mouth, and then Loew, but neither said anything. They had been about to trade confidences, Dee knew, to say what they had learned from the demon, but each of them had changed his mind at the end. It was too personal to speak of.
“Anyway, there will be no more alchemy, if Erzsébet was right,” Dee said. “The door is closed now.” He spoke the words to summon his glow-light, but nothing happened. “Magic is gone from the world.”
“But there is still learning,” Loew said. “Learning, and the meeting of opposites.”
“Yes,” Dee said. “That's true.”
As they walked Dee noticed people stop and stare at them, then hurry away. A few crossed themselves, something Dee
had rarely seen since the reign of Catholic Queen Mary thirty years ago. Everyone, it seemed, was aware that something strange had happened, something uncanny, and no one wanted to linger very long in the presence of magic.
Finally they came to the bridge across the river. Mordechai looked behind him and maneuvered the clay body through the archway. Drivers swore at them as they veered out in front of the coaches, then fell silent when they saw the great body of the golem.
At the other bank Dee at last felt a dull pain in his arms and called a halt. They set their burden down. “What will happen to Magdalena, I wonder?” he said when he got his breath back. He rubbed his arms. “And Izak, too. I saw them leave together.”
Loew scowled. “Izak should not have gone away with that woman,” he said. “He—” He shook his head. “Well, I suppose it's out of my hands now.”
He
has
learned something, Dee thought. “Perhaps they'll be happy together,” he said. “We can wish that for them, anyway.”
Loew looked doubtful; he hadn't learned as much as Dee had hoped. They picked up the body and continued on. At the synagogue they stopped two men cleaning the bronze lamps and asked for their help. The men backed away, clearly unwilling to touch the golem. “It's not alive,” Loew said. “It can't hurt you.”
The men still looked uncertain. “It's dead,” Dee said. It was not dead, not in the sense that he understood the word, but the men seemed mollified.
The five of them carried the golem up the narrow staircase to the attic. Light came in through high windows, illuminating a slow stream of dust. Dee saw a few torn prayer books, a broken chair, a branched candelabra. The climb had tired him and he nearly dropped the body, but the others managed to catch it and set it down gently.
Dee stood back. What would future generations make of the clay body in their attic? Would someone try to make it live again? Or would it gradually fall apart, join the dust around it and become forgotten?
They left the room. There was a key in the lock, and Loew turned it and put it in his pocket before heading downstairs.
“Well, my friend,” Loew said. “I think this is finally goodbye.”
“Not yet,” Dee said. “I have one more thing to do before I go.” He turned to Mordechai. “Can I have use of your flint and a candle? If Erzsébet is right, I have no magic left.”
HE LEFT THE JEWISH QUARTER AND HEADED SOUTH. IT HAD been dawn when Loew had come to his door to tell him about Mordechai's arrest and now, somehow, it was nearly evening. Several times as he walked he glimpsed the river through the maze of buildings on his right, and saw the sun flashing off the water as it began to set.
The journey he had to make was a long one and he rested twice, once in a manicured park and once by a fountain in the shape of a centaur, the water pouring from its mouth. The streets were nearly empty; he wondered if everyone in the city had somehow felt the magic he and the others had unleashed and fled indoors until it passed.
Finally he arrived at Kelley's manor house. It seemed deserted; no lights shone in the windows and no smoke curled from the chimneys. He went to the front door and knocked boldly, waited a moment and knocked again.
As he expected, no one came to answer the door. Kelley could be cowering somewhere in his chilly house, too fearful to even light a fire, but Dee did not think so. He knew the other man too well by now. When Kelley had heard Rudolf pronounce sentence on him he had run as fast and far as he
could; he was almost certainly on one of the roads leading out of Prague.
Dee tried the door, and it opened to his touch. He imagined the house responding to the surge of magic rushing through the city, imagined the ghosts rousing and the old terrors growing stronger.
He stopped on the threshold and lit Mordechai's candle, then stepped inside. He braced himself for more of the house's phantoms but nothing happened; he caught only the faintest shudder of wind and a few quiet voices muttering to themselves. Holding the candle out in front of him like a talisman he headed farther into the house.
The stairs were where he remembered them and he mounted to the next floor. The candle flame flickered, casting long shadows on the walls; the cold marble carvings seemed to move in the dim light.
He reached Kelley's study and went inside. As he had hoped, all his equipment was still there. He brought his candle closer and saw what he had come for, the gray velvet bag containing the showstone. Kelley had taken it back from Rudolf.
He held it in his hands, feeling the chill ball of glass through the cloth, turning it around and around in his long fingers. He grasped the bag by the neck and lifted it high in the air, intending to shatter it against the floor. And then, for no reason he understood, at that time or later, he changed his mind and carried it out of the house.
It was very late by the time he returned to his inn. A clock somewhere was striking the hours, on and on, but he was too tired to keep an accurate count. The stars dazzled, as if someone had thrown all the emperor's jewels into the sky. He climbed the stairs to his room and fell on the bed.
He woke to the sun in his eyes. He stood up carefully, feeling every muscle protest. And he realized he was ravenous;
with a shock he remembered that he had had nothing to eat the day before.
An hour later, fed and dressed and blinking in the sunlight, he made his way to the Jewish Quarter. A clock rang once; the sound seemed to shimmer in the bright air. Was it truly one o'clock? Had he slept as long as that?
When he got to Loew's house he saw that a group of people stood at the door, arguing fiercely. “Where is it, then?” someone asked, and someone else shouted, “Yes, what have you done with it?”
“He's gone,” Loew said. Dee could not see him over the heads of the crowd, but his voice carried loudly into the street. “He won't trouble you any more.”
“How do we know you're telling the truth?”
“Yes, show him to us. Or is he still hiding in your house, about to run wild, to kill and maim like he did the last time?”
“He never killed or maimed anyone,” Loew said. “You know that as well as—”
“He's in the synagogue,” someone said, cutting Loew off. “In the attic. My brother and I helped put him there yesterday.”
“Are you certain?”
“Of course I am.”
“Which synagogue?”
The crowd began to disperse, following the man who had spoken. Loew stood at his door, watching them go. “Well, it can't be helped,” he said. “I should have known something like this couldn't be kept quiet.”
“Don't worry—they don't know how to restore it to life,” Dee said.
Loew looked up, seeming to see Dee for the first time. He smiled wryly. “Let's hope not, anyway.”
“This time I've truly come to say goodbye,” Dee said. “I'm going back to Trebona, to my wife and family.”
“Goodbye, my friend. I hope you can visit me here once or twice. I don't think Rudolf will bother us any further.”
“Of course I will,” Dee said.
They stood a while, unsure what to say. Dee moved forward awkwardly and embraced the other man. Loew stiffened for a moment and then returned the embrace. Unions, Dee thought. Meetings. Never one in the whole history of the world as strange as this.
He returned to his inn to pack, and took a coach to Trebona.
HE STAYED WITH HIS FAMILY AT COUNT VILEM'S HOUSE FOR two more years, visiting Loew in Prague several times. A year after he returned he learned of the death of King István, and he wondered what would happen to Erzsébet without her protector.
Jane bore him another son in March of 1588, whom they christened Theodore. In the fall of that year they began to hear news of a great sea battle that had taken place between the English navy and the powerful Armada of Spain. Early rumors said that England had triumphed over Spain, but Dee thought that that could not be true, that England could not possibly overcome the might of the Armada.

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