No, the entire team was yours truly, good old long-suffering Edward Kelley.
Man, did I hate being the team.
Dee was the worst sort of boss. Any dim-witted peasant girl could have cleaned the glassware and equipment every night, but Dee insisted that I do it. He trusted almost no one to handle his precious equipment. Make sure those herbs are put up just right, Edward. Don’t heat the mixture in that beaker too long, Edward. Hurry with the monkwort, Edward, we’re losing the moonlight. Measure that sulfur into exact portions, Edward.
Fuck you, Dr. John Dee.
So I was Rudolph’s other alchemist. I mean, I never get any credit. You always hear about Dee. At best, old Edward Kelley is an afterthought. A minor blip in minor historical texts.
And I hate the picture they have of me in the Wikipedia entry. It’s one of those generic old man pictures with some fucked-up hat like I’m half wizard and half Oxford professor. One of those long Gandalf beards. As if.
Look, there I am now. Young and strong and up to no good. Zoom in there at that window in the White Tower where my room is. Come have a look.
Come hear my story.
TWELVE
Kelley had the dress bunched up around her hips.
“Hurry,” said the serving girl.
He was naked, climbed between her legs and put himself inside. She gasped, wrapped her legs around him, the heels of her shoes digging into his bare ass cheeks.
“Oh, Edward.” She threw her head back, arched against him. “Oh, my Edward.”
Kelley thrust, felt the heat building in his groin. He’d come to rely on these daily visits with the serving wench to break the relentless tedium of castle life. What was her name again? Brianna or something, wasn’t it? Something with a B.
The serving wench’s climax started as a low moan and built into a banshee scream as Kelley grunted with his own orgasm. He thrust three more times as his climax subsided. He sighed and rolled off her. She leaped off the bed, smoothing her dress down.
“I’ve got to hurry, my lord,” she said. Now that the passion had passed, she no longer called him Edward. “Those great sweaty men in the courtyard will be wanting biscuits and grog, and it’s all me and Miss Sarah can do to keep up with them. I don’t know what sort of infernal machine they’re building out there, but they work up a terrible thirst doing it.”
“It’s a moon machine,” Kelley said. “When they’re done, they’ll shoot a man all the way to the moon. Straight through the air and past the stars.”
The wench stood up straight, eyes wide. “Really?”
“No,” Kelley chuckled. “I’m having fun with you.” In fact, Kelley had heard vague rumors about the construction in the courtyard but nothing that made any real sense.
She rushed to the edge of the bed, grabbed Kelley’s face in her hands, and planted a wet kiss on his lips. “I can’t bear to be away from you, my lord. Until tomorrow.”
“See you then, sweet.” Kelley slapped her butt as she departed.
Red hair and skin so white it might have been milk. Already Kelley looked forward to tomorrow’s visit.
He climbed out of bed and went to the window. The White Tower afforded a good view of the lane below, where a number of Rudolph’s goldsmiths labored day in and day out. Kelley couldn’t quite see the courtyard where the men labored, but the clank and hammer noise of work in progress drifted clearly up to the tower. Kelley was sure Dr. Dee knew what was going on, but so far the old alchemist had been as tight-lipped as a monk.
Kelley put on a shirt, slipped into a plain doublet and breeches. He hated the billowing slops Dee and the other fancy men wore around court. It made them seem preening and slightly feminine. He stepped into his shoes, sighed, and sipped the now tepid tea left behind by the serving wench. He winced. The primary failure of this tea was primarily that it refused to be wine.
Kelley chuckled. Some alchemist’s trick, turning tea into wine. Then he remembered his New Testament and frowned. A similar trick, but it was water turned to wine, not tea. No, that was something beyond mere alchemy.
Not for the first time or the last, Kelley wondered if his work here at Rudolph’s court wasn’t in fact a terrible, terrible idea.
Did Kelley even believe in all that trumped-up mumbo jumbo? Basic mind tricks and sleight of hand to dupe the simpleminded rabble. Wasn’t it? And anyway, it was better than pushing his mystic heal-all and bowel remedy back in Ireland, wandering from village to village, putting on his wizard act. Not that he’d actually been swindling anyone. Not really. Fish oil and beet juice and a few other special ingredients. It really had been quite a good remedy for constipation. It just hadn’t been what anyone would normally have thought of as alchemy.
So when Dr. Dee had said he’d needed a pair of good hands for something special in Prague, well, the offer had been timely, seeing as there had been this pregnant farm girl in Cork, and, well, it had been a fine time to take a long, long trip.
Kelley choked down two more sips of tea, then gave up. After sundown he’d trot to the bottom of the castle steps and settle into his favorite pub. Sometimes he’d get too potted to make it back up again. There were quite a few steps, and it was steep going.
He opened his chest, wondering if he still had a flask hidden somewhere. He’d all but given up when a knock at the door startled him.
“Yes?”
The door creaked open, and Dr. Dee entered. He wore a ridiculously ornate doublet, and the sleeves of his shirt sported intricate braiding. His shoes were so shiny that they hurt Kelley’s eyes. The expression on Dee’s face was the worst-sort of a tight, haughty, contemptuous snarl. Dee could definitely benefit from some fish oil and beet juice.
“Good God, Edward, it smells like ass in here.”
Kelley admitted to himself he was overdue for a bath, and the room was lousy with his dirty laundry. Still, Dee needn’t have been so rude. More than anything, Kelley wanted to ball up his fist and punch all of Dee’s teeth down his throat. He settled for saying the following:
“Fornicate with yourself.”
“Yes, very amusing,” Dee said, unperturbed. “If you can make yourself halfway presentable, we have an audience with His Highness in twenty minutes.”
Kelley’s eyes went wide. “Rudolph?”
“No,” Dee said. “Another Highness. The king of the pixies has summoned us to a banquet. Of course Rudolph, you fool.”
“But why?” Kelley had only met Rudolph once, when he’d come with Dee to Prague. Kelley had stood behind Dee, saying nothing and trying to appear intelligent. There had been no need to meet with the Holy Roman Emperor since then, and that had suited Kelley just fine.
“He’s calling a number of his scientists and scholars together for a counsel,” Dee said. “This might be the big one.”
“You go,” Kelley said. “Tell me what happens.”
“You are summoned as well.”
“I don’t want to go. Tell him I’m ill.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” Dee said. “There will be a number of engineers and astrologers. We’re the only two alchemists in the castle, and I intend for us to make a good showing. Comb your hair, for the love of God.”
“The love of God has nothing to do with any of this,” Kelley said.
Dee rolled his eyes. “Spare me your squeamishness. I am not afraid to reach into the abyss where other men fear to look.”
“I hate it when you talk like that.”
“Nevertheless.” Dee sniffed. “I am an expert in my field. And I won’t let peasant religion or any other superstition stem my quest for knowledge. And I will stay on the path for answers… wherever that path might lead.”
“And what if it leads us to hell, Dr. Dee?”
“Then we shall see what we shall see. But I’d be less worried about hell if I were you and far more concerned with a proper doublet. You look like a common tinker. My tailor dresses better than you. Where’s the doublet I had made for you? The one for formal occasions.”
“I’m not wearing that ridiculous costume.”
“Wear it, damn you.”
Kelley sighed, went into the wardrobe across the room, and came out with a doublet of fine material. It was deep blue, embroidered with yellow moons and stars. Kelley shook his head as he put it on. He stood in front of Dee, spread his arms. “Happy?”
“Placated,” Dee said. “Follow me.”
They spiraled down the stairs and out of the White Tower, Kelley following behind Dee reluctantly as they went down the Golden Lane and through the archway into the main courtyard, where dozens of men labored.
A monstrous construction of gears and flywheels caught Kelley’s attention. “What is that supposed to be?”
“All will be revealed in time,” Dee said.
“You don’t know, do you?”
“Uh… no, actually. Not a clue.”
They strode across the courtyard and into the castle proper. Various dignitaries and lords scurried to and fro. The castle hummed with activity, dozens and dozens of independent projects going like mad, all presumed to come together sooner or later in some kind of grand scheme.
Only a select few knew the ultimate goal of this scheme.
Kelley was in no way one of the select few.