The Cabinet of Curiosities (19 page)

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Chapter Thirty-Six

Dorantes had several paid informants among Rudolph’s inner court and a garbled account of the night’s events had filtered through to him that morning. The Emperor was still alive. The heretic Anselmus Declercq had been with him, but now he had been sent to Daliborka Tower. That was good news at least. The authorities had realised something nefarious was afoot, but Declercq was the chief suspect.

Dorantes had been deeply uneasy ever since this plan had first been suggested. How could he have let a man like Hlava become his accomplice? He had been a fool to trust him, and the Grand Inquisitor. Now Dorantes would be held to account by the Spanish court. He would have to justify his extravagant expenditure of one thousand ducats on this harebrained venture. He would demand it back – some of it at least. Dorantes had sent one of his subordinates to the Old Town with a message summoning Hlava. The man returned an hour later. ‘He refuses,’ he said. ‘He asks that you meet him instead in the Stone Table tavern. He will be there at two in the afternoon.’

Perhaps it had been rash of Dorantes to expect the architect of this failed assassination to come to the Castle. He could understand Hlava’s reluctance.

He then summoned Don Aguilar and told him what had happened. He asked him to come with him into the city. He was certainly not going alone. Aguilar had got him into this mess. Now he could help him out.

Aguilar accepted at once, but he also had a word of caution. ‘Your Eminence, there is much at stake here. The Castle is in turmoil. Rumour and suspicion are endemic. We must be careful that our activities arouse no suspicion. Might I suggest we disguise our purpose?’

‘I shall ask my daughter to accompany us,’ said Dorantes. ‘She longs to spend time away from the Castle. We shall accompany her into the city, and she and her maid can entertain themselves in the market square while we meet with Hlava.’

The two men armed themselves discreetly with pistols and daggers and Dorantes called for his daughter. As he predicted, Celestina and Perpetua were delighted to come with them.

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Across the bridge, Lukas kept to the shadows of side streets and alleys as he made his way to the Old Town Square. Although no one looked twice at him, he felt uncomfortably conspicuous out in the open. All the while he searched for Hlava, hoping to see his enemy before being spotted himself. The thought of coming face to face with the man terrified Lukas. What would he do? He was sure he couldn’t beat him in a fight. He didn’t think Hlava would kill him in the street – although he couldn’t be sure. He was beginning to understand how ruthless he was.

Lukas bought himself a pie and hid in the shadows to eat it. Some time soon Etienne was bound to cross his path. His old friend, he was sure, would help him find Hlava and somewhere to hide. If Etienne didn’t turn up, Lukas would have to go to the Three Violins that evening. Some of the gang would almost certainly be there. What would he say to Oldrich and Karel? Had they known what they were doing when they sent him to that house?

Constantly checking ahead and behind, Lukas neared the square. As he paused in a doorway he was alarmed to see Celestina, with her father, Perpetua and another one of the Spaniards, walk straight past him. The two men were deep in serious conversation, while Celestina talked excitedly with her maid. None of them saw him. Instinct told him not to approach them.

Lukas crouched down and waited for his heartbeat to settle. He was startled by a wet, slobbery sensation. Belphegor was licking the pie crumbs from his greasy hand. Lukas made another visit to the pie shop for him. Then boy and dog settled in the shadows of a boarded-up shop doorway overlooking the square. The sun turned in the sky as the afternoon wore on, and soon both were dozing in a warm pool of light.

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Dorantes and Aguilar told the girls they had business to attend to and said they would meet them at the steps of Our Lady before Tyn later that afternoon. Then they went to the Stone Table and sat in an alcove on the far side of the room, opposite the door. It was the perfect spot for a discreet conversation.

An hour passed. Hlava was late! How dare he be so impudent! Then they began to worry. Perhaps he had been arrested. Perhaps their plot had been discovered. When they heard the chimes of the Astronomical Clock they got up to leave. At that moment Hlava walked through the door.

Although he smiled as he sat down, Hlava seemed agitated and would not catch their eye. ‘And what news is there of the Emperor?’ he asked.

Dorantes spoke in a low whisper. ‘He was found insensible in his chambers. There was someone else with him – one of his physicians. The heretic Declercq. Both men have recovered, although Declercq has been sent to Daliborka Tower.’

Hlava said nothing. His face was impassive. His mind, though, was racing.

Dorantes had more to say. ‘The money I gave you – the one thousand ducats – I demand you give some of it back, at least five hundred. Your scheme has failed. For now we are lucky not to have been discovered. Who knows how tongues will wag if this goes further and the torture begins?’

Hlava smiled. ‘And I was going to ask you for the rest of my fee.’

Aguilar stood up, outraged by Hlava’s audacity. ‘You will pay us back the money we have asked for and you will not get a pfennig more.’ Dorantes bade him sit down. He was being indiscreet.

Hlava looked disappointed, even a little hurt. He said, ‘I undertook this venture at considerable risk. My plan was perfect. I built a beautiful machine worth well over my original thousand ducats and delivered it to the Emperor. The vapour would have done its work with one person – as my instructions clearly stated. Sharing it between the two of them weakened its effect. I kept my side of the arrangement. I advise you to pay me, Señor Dorantes. You will find I am a poor choice of enemy. I will see you tomorrow. Be here for three o’clock, though I may be late.’

Hlava got up and left. He knew in his heart that the Spaniards were not going to pay him and it was all he could do not to slay them on the spot.

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Chapter Thirty-Seven

Celestina Dorantes had not visited the city since that day with Lukas Declercq. It was a beautiful autumn afternoon and she and Perpetua were enjoying exploring the shops. Celestina had grown so bored of her lace-making and the four walls of her quarters. She missed Lukas. He had been amusing company. Now he had served his purpose her father had forbidden her to see him.

They went looking for silk and silver thread and also to see what they might find for supper. Having made this trip many times, Perpetua was not greatly concerned for her mistress’s safety, especially at this time of day. The men would be meeting them soon, and they would all return to the Castle well before dusk.

It was Celestina’s great ill fortune that she and Perpetua were walking past the Town Hall and back towards the market stalls of the square, just as Hrusosky Hlava was returning to his home. He recognised Celestina at once, of course. Who would not remember a girl who looked like that? She had been there, somewhere in the background, on the few occasions he had visited Dorantes at his Castle quarters. He weighed up the consequences of his actions and decided in an instant what to do.

He bowed low when he saw her, and gave a little nod of his head to Perpetua. Celestina recognised him too. ‘My dear, I am so glad to have seen you,’ he said. ‘I have come direct from the Castle. I hear there are assassins at large – men in the pay of heretics who are determined to kill the Spanish ambassadors at court and all their associates. You must come at once to a safe place and I will arrange for soldiers from the Castle to escort you home.’

‘My father is close by, sir,’ said Celestina, who had no reason to trust this man. ‘We will find him and tell him.’

‘There is not a moment to lose,’ said Hlava. ‘They may be watching you even now.’

‘But where would you take us, sir?’ asked Celestina.

‘Come,’ he said and grabbed her arm tightly.

Dorantes and Aguilar had stayed a few more minutes in the Stone Table, pondering their next move. They would have to speak to the Grand Inquisitor, they decided. Monsignor Gerwald Mach lived on the other side of the square. He had introduced them to Hlava; he would know how best to handle him. They turned into the square to see Hlava on the other side, his hand on Celestina’s arm. She seemed to be struggling to get away.

‘Unhand my daughter!’ shouted Dorantes.

Hlava paid him no heed and began to hurry the girl towards a narrow side street.

Perpetua leaped upon him, beating his head with her clenched fists, but he swept her away with his other hand, knocking her to the floor, and drew a pistol. Celestina screamed and bit his hand. He clubbed her with the pistol, then moved his hand around her neck. The few passers-by close to the scene stood motionless, too frightened to intervene.

Hlava pointed the pistol at Perpetua’s head, but she had fallen hard and lay writhing in pain, clutching her ankle. She was no longer a threat. Instead he turned to Dorantes and Aguilar, who were now running towards him. He fired, and Dorantes dropped to the ground, clutching his chest. There were screams among the crowd, who scattered like frightened lambs before a wolf.

Aguilar momentarily stopped to help Dorantes, who waved him away. ‘Save my daughter,’ he gasped. Aguilar ran on, only for Hlava to draw another pistol from his belt and fire a shot which hit him in the forehead. He fell straight back, as though his head had hit an invisible wooden beam, and lay face up on the ground, his dead eyes staring at the sky.

Dorantes struggled to sit up, but his arms would not support his weight. Hlava dragged Celestina into the narrow passage, thinking fast. There was a house close to here where he could hide – he had provided the owner with favours in the past – and send word to the Spanish party for ransom. Then he would have to leave the city.

First, though, Dorantes must be silenced. It would be best for Hlava if the other Spaniards did not know who they were dealing with. Warily he walked out again into the Old Town Square, which was now all but deserted. Everyone had fled or was hiding behind stalls and carts. He dragged Celestina with him, one arm clutched so tightly around her throat she could barely breathe, let alone cry out. Approaching the wounded Dorantes, he paused to wrench Aguilar’s pistol from the dead man’s hand.

‘Let my daughter go,’ pleaded Dorantes.

‘I wouldn’t worry about her, Your Eminence,’ said Hlava. ‘You are in far greater trouble.’ He pointed Aguilar’s pistol at Dorantes’s head.

Dorantes gazed with anguish at the terrified face of his daughter, while muttering a final prayer for his soul. None of them noticed the rapid patter of feet as a huge brown dog launched itself at Hlava. It knocked him and Celestina to the ground and the pistol fell from his hand. Hitting the cobbled square, it discharged its round, which lodged agonisingly in Hlava’s left shoulder.

Lukas, who was so exhausted he had managed to sleep through the previous commotion, now woke with a start. Belphegor was no longer by his side. He looked over and saw the dog on the ground with a bundle of clothes. The bundle got up. It was Hlava and Celestina. Two others lay close by. One was still, the other – Dorantes – was moving. Lukas watched the scene unfold, frozen in horror.

Hlava was not finished yet. He still had Celestina tight by the throat and he turned her body between himself and the slobbering, snarling hound. He cursed his own weakness. He should have killed the wretched cur when he’d done away with Strom.

Belphegor knew that the little man was his intended prey, not the wriggling frightened girl. He held back, ears up, growling angrily.

As Hlava held Celestina in front of him, movement at the edge of the square caught his eye. A detachment of the Castle guard, returning to the palace, had come to investigate the disturbance.

Seeing the guards gave Lukas the courage he needed. He began to run towards Hlava and Celestina. He was unarmed and he hadn’t the first idea what he was going to do, but he could not just stand by and watch.

At the same time Dorantes mustered his strength and called out, ‘Guards, come quickly.’

Seeing a squad of soldiers racing towards him, Hlava panicked. He pulled Celestina through the nearest doorway – the entrance to the great tower which held the Astronomical Clock. Those inside immediately sprang to their feet, and he found himself surrounded. His weakened hand sought out the dagger on his belt and, despite the shooting pain from his wounded shoulder, he held it at Celestina’s throat. His meaning was clear.

Hlava could feel dampness on his sleeve, which was now drenched with blood. He could sense himself weakening. Should he slit her throat now, and be done with it? Dorantes deserved no less. He had got him into this situation.

Belphegor bounded through the open door, growling and dribbling, his body crouched low as if to pounce. Lukas was right behind him. Everyone backed away in terror. Hlava saw Lukas too and cursed him to the lowest depths of hell.

‘Wait,’ Lukas shouted. ‘Stop! Listen to me!’ He was desperate to get Hlava to believe he was not a hunted man. ‘It’s not you they want – it’s Strom.’

Celestina looked at Lukas with baffled astonishment. Then she began to swear at Hlava in Spanish. He did not register what either of them was saying. He was working on pure instinct now, and instinct told him to go up. Higher. It was the only way to get away from the dog. He had been in this building several times before to stargaze. The door to the stairwell was close by. He kicked it open and dragged Celestina through.

Inside the tower well it was clammy and cold. Hlava began to shiver a little as he dragged Celestina up an ascending series of rickety wooden ramps. He released his grip and threw her in front of him. At knifepoint she hurried up the ramps with him, until Belphegor caught up with them again and he once again deployed her as a shield. The snarling hound came several steps behind, Lukas clutching his collar and the soldiers following.

The ramps were not made for this many people. There was a sudden splintering as two of the wooden planks split their mooring to the wall and the handrail came apart. The soldiers on the ramp fumbled desperately for a secure hold. One of them plunged to the base of the tower, his scream scoring the air as he fell. Those coming behind stopped in their tracks behind the broken ramp, not daring to go further.

Lukas looked at the frightened, hesitant soldiers behind him. It was just him and Belphegor now.

When Hlava reached the top he slammed the wooden door that led out to the enclosed platform. He and Celestina were both gasping for breath. The platform was surrounded by open arches and a fierce wind howled around their feet. Hlava was finding it difficult to focus. There was a ladder leading to the spire atop the tower. ‘Up,’ he ordered Celestina, and waved his dagger in her face.

The door burst open and Belphegor and Lukas spilled on to the platform. Hlava grabbed Celestina again and held his dagger firmly to her throat. He pulled her out through one of the arches and on to the balcony that ran around the platform. The parapet was precariously low and Celestina almost fainted as she caught a glimpse of the square in the dizzy drop beneath.

Lukas held Belphegor tightly by the collar, hoping he would not leap up and send all of them to their death. Hlava looked at Lukas with boiling rage. ‘Why aren’t you dead?’ he said through gritted teeth.

‘Hlava – listen to me. The soldiers are hunting Strom, not you,’ Lukas lied.

Celestina unleashed another blistering tirade. Hlava tightened his grip around her neck, but there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Down in the square an officer with the soldiers shouted up. He recognised Hlava from his visits to the Castle as a guest of the Spanish ambassador. ‘Give yourself up, sir, for the love of God.’

Hlava laughed. Lukas was a poor liar. He could see it in his stupid, pleading face. He also knew that what he had done merited nothing less than the wheel. He would kill the girl with the last of his strength and then throw himself from the top of the tower. He tightened his grip around Celestina’s throat, lifting her neck taut for the killing stroke. ‘The Devil take you all,’ he said, and readied his dagger.

There was a strange whistling sound, like air being torn apart. Celestina screamed in pain and Hlava stood bolt upright, a look of agonised surprise on his face. He swayed on the parapet and his dagger clattered to the floor. Feeling herself falling backwards, Celestina screamed again. Lukas leaped forward and grabbed her wrist with his free hand, almost tottering over the parapet. If he had not had Belphegor’s extra weight to anchor him in this terrifying tug of war the three of them would have fallen into the void.

Hlava’s limp arm fell away and Lukas pulled Celestina towards him. As Hlava’s legs buckled and he toppled over, Lukas could see the tip of the crossbow bolt that had penetrated his chest. It had pierced Celestina’s back too, and a small bloody stain began to spread over her dress.

Lukas lowered her carefully to the floor and cradled her in his arms as she started to sob. An officer and a soldier hurried on to the platform. The officer signalled to the two crossbow archers he had sent to the Tyn church tower directly opposite. Lukas helped Celestina to her feet, then peered over the edge of the parapet. Hlava lay, impaled and twitching, on the metal spike of a pointed tower at the base of the clock.