The Crystal Code (20 page)

Her eyes darted from one face to the next.

The man took a step towards her. ‘It's okay,' he said. ‘They are in for the night.' He gave her a reassuring nod.

The woman ran her tongue across her teeth and gave Gerald and his friends another wary look. ‘I will make dinner,' she said. She picked up the basket and disappeared through a curtain behind the table.

‘Is everything all right?' Ruby asked.

The man tapped out his pipe on the hearthstone and pulled a beaten leather pouch from his pocket. ‘Do not worry. Everything is fine,' he said. He tamped a plug of tobacco into the bowl of the pipe and worked it with his thumb. Then he shot a glance towards the bolted front door. ‘Just fine.'

Gerald followed the man's gaze. Through the front windows he could see the square was dark. The night had closed in.

‘That's garlic, isn't it?' Felicity said, nodding to the string of bulbs hanging from the door.

The man struck a match and put it to his pipe. His cheeks worked like a pair of bellows. ‘Yes,' he said, his eyes never leaving the flame as it bucked and dived with each puff. ‘It gives the room a lovely smell.'

Felicity started to respond when the man lurched back to the table. ‘But now I must check you in.' He cleared a space on the table, sweeping aside a scattering of screws, springs and widgets, and pulled a battered book from a drawer.

‘Well, Mr Gerald Wilkins and friends,' the man said, peering over Gerald's shoulder as he wrote his name in the register, ‘it is good to meet you. My name is Novak, my wife is Stephanie. I will call you down when dinner is ready.'

‘That's quite a boat you have there,' Sam said, studying the model ship on the end of the table. ‘Did you make it?'

The man turned his gaze to the galleon and smiled at it as if it was a favourite child. It was just over half a metre long and the main mast stood about the same again high. ‘I wish I had the skill to create such a beautiful thing,' the man said. ‘I am merely trying to repair it.'

Sam poked his nose in close to the metal cladding around the hull. ‘There's so much detail,' he said. ‘Is this real gold?'

Novak grinned behind his beard. ‘That is what they tell me. Watch.'

He turned the ship around. From his pocket he pulled a golden key. Sam watched entranced as the man inserted the key into a hole in the stern and wound it three times.

From deep inside the bilges came a whirring. Then, to Sam's delight, the ship lurched forward. It set off along the table on unseen wheels, swaying to and fro as if buffeted by the roaring forties. A sailor in the crow's nest raised and lowered a spyglass, searching for new lands. Four tiny portholes opened on each side, and out of each one popped a tiny cannon. Sam's eyes flew wide as the cannons shot out puffs of smoke. A jaunty nautical tune played from the hull as the ship ran down. Novak took hold of the galleon in loving hands as it reached the end of the table.

Sam looked at him, gobsmacked. ‘That is awesome!'

Novak returned the smile. ‘See here?' he said to Sam, chuffed at finding another enthusiast. ‘The little people in the wheel house? This one is King Rudolph II, emperor of Bohemia.'

Sam peered in close to four tiny figurines standing on the high deck. ‘Oh yeah,' he said. ‘The one with the crown. We've heard all about Rudolph.'

Novak placed the galleon gingerly into a cradle and made a slight adjustment with the screwdriver. ‘This was once part of his collection,' he said. ‘He loved the wind-up toys. The more elaborate, the better.'

‘How did you get it?' Sam asked. ‘If that's not a rude question.'

Novak placed a giant hand on Sam's shoulder, and spared a glance to the curtain through which his wife had disappeared.

‘We should have time before dinner is ready,' he said. He guided Sam back towards the lounge. ‘Come. I have a story to tell you.'

Chapter 26

T
he fire cast shapes across the hearthrug in a puppet show of dancing shadows. Two lamps did little to fill the darkness that had descended with the night.

Novak stood by the grate, an elbow on the mantle and his pipe belching as much smoke as the chimney. ‘Rudolph was not a good leader,' he said, his voice low and deliberate. ‘He never wanted to be king. But when his father died, he had no choice. Overnight he became the most powerful man in the western world. His kingdom was large and he was the head of the Catholic church. He had the say of life and death over millions of people.' Novak blew a stream of smoke into the air. Apart from the crackle of the firewood in the grate, there was no other sound.

‘He had castles. He had armies. But he did not have the passion to be a leader, to be a conqueror of lands.'

‘What did he do all day?' Sam asked.

‘He collected,' Novak said. ‘He collected everything.'

He drew heavily on his pipe, infusing the room with its pungent odour. ‘Rudolph turned the castle in Prague into his personal ark. Every kind of animal he could find would go into the private zoo. There were elephants, lions, giraffes. It was said that he even had a dodo.

‘His passion was acquiring objects and he had the money to do it. It went beyond animals. He had three thousand oil paintings, display cases of minerals from around the world. There were birds and butterflies. He had two special collections: his Cabinet of Curiosities and his Cabinet of Wonders. Rudolph would show them off to visiting ambassadors, like a proud parent.'

‘What was in them?' Ruby asked.

‘Everything you could imagine,' Novak said. ‘A unicorn horn, phoenix feathers, nails from Noah's ark. There were magic books and manuscripts—volumes that promised the secrets of the natural world, and the unnatural world for that matter.'

‘Unicorn horns and phoenix feathers?' Ruby said with a snort. ‘Sounds like he had every con man in Europe coming to visit.'

‘Like the men who sold him the Voynich Manuscript,' Gerald said.

Novak pulled the pipe from his mouth and stared at Gerald. ‘You know of the manuscript?'

Gerald mumbled a ‘yes'. The sudden change in the man's expression threw him.

Novak narrowed his eyes. ‘There are some who believe the manuscript was not a hoax,' he said. ‘That it contains real secrets to limitless wealth. And more. Rudolph's collection of animals and artefacts was impressive, but what really stood out was his collection of people.'

‘People?' Sam said. ‘How do you collect people?'

‘The same way you collect dodos,' Novak said. ‘With money. Rudolph surrounded himself with the best minds of the day. He had two hundred alchemists and their assistants working in his laboratories in the castle in Prague, all of them trying to locate the secret that would turn base metals into gold.'

‘What about the universal remedy?' Ruby said. ‘Were they trying to find that as well?'

Again, Novak narrowed his eyes. ‘You know much on this topic.'

Ruby's cheeks flushed. ‘I read travel guides,' she said.

Novak grunted. Gerald could see that Ruby had touched a sore point and he tried to change the subject. ‘And your ship?' he said. ‘How did it end up here?'

Novak cast a glance towards the golden galleon on the table. ‘Rudolph was fond of anything mechanical. He was obsessed with controlling nature. Part of his collection of people was a man named Cornelius Drebbel. It is said that he invented a perpetual motion machine.'

‘What's that?' Felicity asked.

‘A machine that once started would run forever. Rudolph had hundreds of clocks and automata—wind-up models and figurines. My galleon once graced the king's dining table. Rudolph would let it set sail to entertain his guests. Those must have been amazing gatherings in the castle. But nothing lasts forever. At the end of Rudolph's life there was a war with Sweden. His collection was looted by the invading troops. This hotel fed and housed some Swedish officers on their homeward journey. They paid their bill with the boat. My father found it packed in the attic years ago. After he passed on, I took over the job of restoring it.'

‘You've done a brilliant job,' Sam said. ‘It's amazing.'

Novak bowed his head. ‘You are very kind.' The man stared into the flames that danced in the grate; the light played across his wrinkled face. He seemed lost in thought. Then he spoke again. ‘Not all of Rudolph's collection survived,' he said. ‘There was a girl. A girl not much older than you two.' He gave Ruby and Felicity a grave look. ‘She was a singer, said to have the finest voice in Europe. Rudolph heard stories of her performances in Vienna and insisted she come to his court in Prague. But her father did not want his daughter to go.'

‘What happened?' Sam said.

‘You do not defy an emperor,' Novak said. ‘The girl came to Prague. Her father was forced to bring her. When they arrived at the castle gates, the girl was admitted but the guards refused to let the father in. He was distraught, screaming to be allowed to go with his beloved daughter. She was dragged away. Some legends say the guards threw the father into the castle bear pit. Others say he stayed by the gates until he starved to death.'

‘How horrible,' Felicity said.

‘The girl was so upset by her father's death that she never sang again. Rudolph lost interest in her and she spent the rest of her life begging for scraps in the alleys of the castle.' The fire flickered as a draught swirled down the chimney, sending the shadows into a frenzy.

Novak looked deep into the flames. ‘On the first full moon of each new year, the spirit of the father is said to rise from his grave to search once more for his daughter. He can take the form of a man or of a bear. When he can't find her, he steals the soul of the first female he sees.'

Ruby turned her head to the window.

‘Is the full moon tonight?' she asked.

The man nodded.

‘And that's what the garlic is for?' Ruby said. ‘To keep the spirit away?'

Novak dropped his eyes. ‘It is a silly superstition,' he said.

‘
It is no such thing
.'

The man's wife stood in the kitchen doorway, a tray of food in her hands. She bustled into the room and set the platter onto the table. ‘I don't see you putting the talisman aside,' she said to Novak. ‘Look to the window. The moon is rising. Do you dare to take the garlic down?'

The man muttered into his beard.

The woman set out plates of stew and dumplings. ‘Come,' she said, calling them all to the table. ‘Eat. And be thankful that we are safe indoors on the night that Ursus roams.'

Ruby was pulling out a chair to sit at the table when she stopped. ‘I'm sorry,' she said to the woman. ‘What did you say the father's name was?'

The woman knocked three times on the wooden tabletop. ‘His name was Ursus—the bear,' she said. ‘His grave is in the
hrbitov
, the cemetery, beyond the hill.'

Chapter 27

G
erald checked the lock on the door and joined Ruby, Sam and Felicity on the rug in front of the fireplace. The evening meal had been consumed in near silence. Sam even waved away an inviting-looking apple strudel for dessert so they could retreat to their room as quickly as possible.

‘They're not going to get the tourists flooding in here with stories like that,' Sam said. ‘Ghost bears rising from the grave to abduct girls—happy new year.'

Felicity rolled out the brass rubbing she had made from the belltower at the castle. She ran a finger along the route they'd taken to get to Hadanka.

‘Here's the graveyard, just like Stephanie said.' Felicity rubbed her hands along the goosebumps on her arms. ‘I love a good ghost story.'

Gerald studied the map. ‘I say we go there tonight,' he said.

Sam gave Gerald an incredulous stare. ‘Are you insane? You heard what Novak said. There's a bear out there.'

‘Sam,' Ruby said, ‘surely you don't believe that silly story about a father searching for his lost daughter.'

‘I don't know,' he said. ‘Is it any more silly than a daughter searching for her lost father?'

‘Our situation has nothing to do with some stupid old superstition.'

‘A lot of those old superstitions are based on fact,' Sam said.

‘Even the stupid ones?' Ruby asked.

‘There's a lot of stupid facts out there,' Sam said. ‘Like Tycho Brahe being dead for more than four hundred years. That's a good stupid fact. And now the guy who warned us about Brahe? Ursus. Well, it turns out he has been dead for four hundred years as well. I say we let the bear have his big night out and we check the graveyard in the morning.'

Gerald shook his head. ‘I don't buy it,' he said. ‘I don't believe in ghosts and I don't believe in bears stealing souls. What I do believe is that tonight is the perfect opportunity for Brahe to do whatever he wants without having to worry about anyone seeing him. If the whole of Hadanka is tucked up behind locked doors and strings of garlic, he's free to do whatever he wants away from prying eyes.'

‘So you think Brahe's in town?' Felicity asked.

‘I think we're about three steps behind him on whatever bizarre journey he's on. But Brahe holds the key to finding Alisha and Ox.'

‘What about Ursus?' Sam asked.

Gerald pulled on his jacket and fished his gloves from the pockets. ‘If you're lucky you can ask him yourself, tonight.'

The snow had finally stopped falling.

Light remnants of cloud dotted the heavens as Gerald, Felicity, Sam and Ruby trekked out of the village. As they left the last of the houses behind, a huge full moon poked above the line of hills ahead and an ethereal glow coloured the sky.

They wandered in silence. Past tennis courts closed for the season. Beyond a snowbound aero club, the runway a long strip of white. Past a junkyard, where a howl from the resident guard dog startled them.

‘Are you sure this is the way?' Felicity asked Gerald as she re-wrapped her scarf around her neck.

Gerald trudged on, following the country lane. ‘The sign back there said
Hrbitov
. I don't think we'd miss it.'

‘Did you notice all the houses back in the village?' Ruby said. ‘There was a string of garlic hanging in every front window.'

‘Superstitions can be stubborn,' Gerald said. He wrinkled his brow. ‘What's that smell?' He turned a suspicious eye to Sam, then grabbed him by the front of the jacket.

‘Hey!' Sam protested. ‘What are you doing?'

Gerald managed to unzip Sam's fleece. He pulled open the jacket to reveal a large string of garlic around Sam's neck.

Ruby's glare would have cut glass. ‘You must be joking,' she said.

Sam zipped up his jacket, his cheeks burning red. ‘There was a spare one in Stephanie's shopping basket as we snuck out,' he said. ‘It's not doing anyone any harm.'

‘Unless they're downwind of you,' Gerald said, screwing up his nose.

Sam was unrepentant. ‘Well, that's one thing we don't have to worry about with Brahe,' Sam said, as they trudged up the hillside.

‘What's that?' Felicity said.

‘He won't be able to smell us coming.'

They broached the top of the hill and stopped. The moon hung above the horizon, an enormous yellow disk in the sky. The lightly wooded hillside was carpeted with snow. At the bottom of the hill in the bowl of a valley, lit like a film-set beneath the full moon, nestled the graveyard.

Ruby pointed, but she didn't need to. Everyone had already seen it. A path cut across the hill and led straight to the cemetery gates.

Gerald's stomach tightened. The words of Mason Green echoed in his ears:
I hold genuine fears for the safety of Alisha and Oswald.
Gerald had to find his friends. He couldn't shake the gnawing feeling it was his fault that they were in danger.

He raised a finger to his lips. Sound would travel for miles on a night like this. He gave a quick thumbs up and started the downhill journey through the snow.

The four friends cut a swathe across the hillside until they reached the path to the cemetery. Gerald knew that anyone in the graveyard would be able to see the trail they had left. It stood out like a scar. He hoped that whoever was in the cemetery was too busy to be looking their way—or too dead.

The gates stood ajar, as if unsure whether their task was to keep intruders out, or occupants in. Gerald shivered as he walked beneath the gothic arch that spanned the entrance. Ruby, Felicity and Sam were close behind.

Good.

Gerald needed friends on a night like this.

Inside the gate the path forked, encircling a forest of gravestones. To the right, the snow was a pristine carpet; to the left, the path was clearly marked with two sets of bootprints.

Gerald's breath caught in his throat. Who were they about to find?

Brahe or Ursus?

Man or ghost?

Gerald knew they couldn't follow the path—they'd be too exposed. He turned to his friends and pointed straight ahead. They'd have to sneak through the labyrinth of gravestones. At any other time, the look on Sam's face would have had Gerald in fits of laughter. But not this night.

Gerald stepped from the path and between two gravestones.

A layer of mist hung low over the ground. It parted like a curtain and welcomed the four souls as they stepped inside.

The ground was pitched and rutted in corrugations where graves had collapsed under the combined weight of time, earth and sorrow. Headstones lay toppled and tiered like rows of giant teeth. Snow had settled along the tops of the blocks of granite that remained upright, like icing on Death's birthday cake.

Gerald moved gingerly between the stones, desperate to make no noise to alert the living, or disturb the dead. He soon lost sight of the paths. The mist closed in. A frozen forest of shadow and death surrounded them.

Chink-chink-chink
.

The sound was like a metronome—a steady pulse in a place where pulses were not meant to be. Gerald held up his hand. He ducked a glance over his shoulder. Ruby, Felicity and Sam stood like marble memorials. Gerald pointed to a line of gravestones a few metres ahead. He crouched and crept to them, crawling into the shroud of mist. When Ruby, Felicity and Sam had joined him Gerald dared to ease an eye around the corner…

Two men stood in the moonlight.

One, wearing a large black coat, was perched on the side of an open grave. The other had shed his jacket, and stood in his shirtsleeves waist-deep in the ground, hacking at the frozen earth with a shovel.

Chink-chink-chink
.

Gerald stared open-mouthed. The man in the coat turned his head a fraction—just enough for the moonlight to glint off his silver nose.

‘This is hopeless,' the man with the shovel said. It was Pugly. His words came in pants of exhaustion. ‘This ground isn't giving up any secrets.'

Brahe glared down at him. ‘Dig,' he commanded.

Then Brahe swivelled his head towards Gerald, as if he had heard something.

Gerald froze, half his head still poking out from behind the gravestone. A collar of mist gathered at his neck.

‘What was—' Brahe began.

Then the shovel blade hit wood.

It was a clear, hollow sound. Like a knock on a door. A door that was never meant to be opened.

‘This is it!' Pugly doubled his efforts with the shovel, clearing the soil from what must have been an ancient coffin.

Brahe peered down from the edge of the hole. When the last of the dirt was removed he extended a hand and hauled Pugly out. The smaller man landed on his backside in a pile of freshly dug soil.

‘Wait there,' Brahe said.

Then he jumped into the grave.

His heavy boots crashed through the coffin lid, splintering it into shards. The impact catapulted a skeleton upright, as if it had been shaken awake by the shock arrival. The skull bobbled on the top of the spine, silently protesting the intrusion.

Pugly smothered a cry. His right hand clutched at the cross that hung around his neck.

Brahe ignored his companion and batted the skull to one side. It landed at the smaller man's feet, its sightless eyes staring at him accusingly.

Brahe plunged both fists into the coffin and fished around among the ribs and vertebrae. Then his hand closed on an object. He pulled it up to his face and nodded before shoving it deep inside his overcoat.

‘Here, give me a hand up.'

Pugly struggled to help him out of the hole. Brahe dusted himself down and tossed the shovel to his companion. ‘Fill it in,' he said.

As the smaller man set to work, Brahe dug into his pocket and retrieved the item he'd taken from the grave. He held it to the moonlight. Gerald caught a glint of metal.

Then, from behind him, a pile of snow tumbled from a branch and hit the ground.

Whether it was the movement or the sound, Brahe looked up. His face was as dark as murder. He pushed the stolen item into the folds of his coat, and in the same movement pulled out a handgun.

Gerald whipped his head back and pressed himself into the gravestone. He shot a warning look to Ruby, and mimed a gun with his hand. Ruby's eyes popped.

Then there were boots scuffling through snow and the heavy breathing of a man on edge.

Gerald tilted his head to look to the black sky. The business end of the barrel of a gun appeared over the edge of the gravestone just centimetres away, moving like a ship into port.

Brahe was right above them.

Gerald held his breath, biting the inside of his cheek.

Then the bulbous end of a large metal nose hovered above. Gerald stared up into two carefully moulded silver nostrils. To his astonishment, he saw that the silversmith had etched in individual nose hairs. The whiskers on Brahe's chin bristled. If Brahe should glance down, it would all be over.

Then Gerald understood. The silver nose was blocking Brahe's sight. The reflection from the moonlight was shining up into his eyes, obscuring his downward vision. All Gerald had to do was keep perfectly still, and wait…

After a long moment, Brahe retreated. Gerald allowed himself a slow, silent intake of air. He glanced across to Ruby. Her eyes were still wide.

‘It's done.' The sound of a spade patting down earth floated to them. Brahe's voice cut the night air. ‘Come. We have work to do.'

Gerald tensed. If the two men came back their way, there was nowhere to hide. But the sound of boots crunching through snow receded as Brahe and Pugly made their way out to the path. Within a minute, the graveyard had returned to silence.

Gerald placed a finger to his lips and indicated for Ruby, Sam and Felicity to stay put. He poked his head around the side of the gravestone. Then he stole out into the night.

It took Ruby just five seconds to break cover and follow him. Sam and Felicity were only a second behind.

Snow had started falling again, already covering Pugly's handiwork. Gerald stood before the dirt mounded on top of the freshly covered grave.

‘Will you look at that,' Sam said. He pointed to the headstone on the neighbouring grave. Carved into a slab of ancient granite was
Ursus
.

‘I guess he didn't go looking for his daughter this year,' Felicity said.

Sam unzipped his jacket and gave the string of garlic a jiggle, releasing a fog of fumes. ‘Maybe he's still hibernating,' he said.

The headstone on the desecrated gravesite tilted sharply backwards. Gerald leaned across the pile of earth and wiped away a layer of snow. What he revealed made them all shudder.

A single name, carved centuries before.

BRAHE
.