“Thank you, Sire,” replied the man.
“This is Herr Doktor Bazalgette,” the emperor said, introducing his companion. “He is Lord High Alchemist to the royal court.”
“At your service, my friends,” replied the man of science, doffing his cap.
“Can you produce enough liquor for two?” asked Rudolf.
“We have enough for ten, Your Majesty,” answered Etzel, delighted with the prospect of serving such esteemed courtiers.
“What do you require to facilitate your production?” asked the court alchemist. “Perhaps I can aid your preparation.”
“Only a small fire,” answered Wilhelmina. “We have brought everything else. It is in a chest outside.”
“Shall I have it brought in, Your Majesty?” offered Bazalgette.
“Yes, and tell Ruprecht that we will require a fire to be lit in the hearth. Have him inform the chamberlain that we want it at once.” To his visitors, he said, “Is this agreeable to you?”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” ventured Wilhelmina. “But perhaps it would be easier and quicker for me to simply go to the kitchen and prepare the Kaffee there. I will bring it to you when it is ready.”
“Excellent!” cried Rudolf. His excitement was dashed the very next instant when he considered what this meant. “However, we were hoping to watch you prepare it.” He frowned.
“Then, if you would allow me to suggest,” said Wilhelmina, “perhaps Your Majesty might accompany us to the royal kitchen and Your Highness will be able to observe everything we do.”
The King of Christendom started and stared, jolted by this revolutionary idea. “We do not believe we have ever been to the royal kitchens,” he considered, his brow creasing deeply at the thought.
Lord High Alchemist Bazalgette rescued the imperial dignity by an apt recommendation. “Might we repair to my laboratory instead, Majesty?” he proposed delicately. “There is a fire in the hearth, and it is in this very wing of the palace.”
“Yes,” allowed Rudolf with some relief, “perhaps that would be best. And we will taste this Kaffee liquor that much sooner.”
It was thus agreed. The emperor rose from his chair and, escorted by his chief alchemist and followed by his guests, moved to the door.
“Exalted Majesty…?” called a voice from the far end of the room.
“Ah, yes, Signore Arcimboldo,” said Rudolf, remembering himself. “We are finished for the day. But do come along and join us if you like. We are going to partake of a new potion. You may find it inspiring to your work.”
“Your servant would be honoured, Majesty.” The artist put aside his palette and brushes, quickly doffed his smock, and joined the party, following them into the long corridor, to a stairway leading up to the next floor, and down another mirror-lined corridor to a suite of rooms at the far end of the passageway.
“Here we are, Highness, friends,” said Bazalgette, pushing open the heavily carved door. “Please, come in and feel free to amuse yourselves. If you will excuse me, Majesty, I will see to the necessaries.”
The apartment was as big as a ballroom, but every square inch of available space was packed with all manner of gear and equipment: tables crowded with jars, pots, and jugs, each labelled with its contents; counters lined with a formidable array of bulbous decanters filled with murky liquids; mortars and pestles in a range of sizes and made of porcelain, glass, marble, and granite; crucibles, beakers, and bowls of lead and copper and zinc and bronze; pottery and glassware articles in bizarre organic shapes; bundles of raw materials, from dried herbs to animal fur; iron tools of many kinds. And if there were mortars and pestles in sizes a giant might find useful, there were hammers and tongs a fairy sprite would covet. Marking the perimeter of the room on three sides, floor to ceiling, stood great hulking bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes and parchment rolls.
Wilhelmina felt as if she had entered an Aladdin’s cave where, instead of gold and jewel-crusted treasure, the thieves specialized in chem-lab equipment and biological specimens. Everywhere one looked, the eye was arrested by some oddity or other-desiccated cats, stuffed birds, unborn pigs in brine, fully articulated lizard skeletons, and prehistoric insects in lambent lumps of Baltic amber.
At the far end of the room, the original hearth and fireplace had been extensively modified to accommodate a large stove with several apertures on top, two ovens below, and, to one side, an open-flame bed something like a forge. Beside the stove, using its light to examine a diagram on parchment, stood two men whose presence Wilhelmina had not marked when entering. She did so now. One of the men was a tall, well-muscled fellow with striking good looks and a regal bearing; the other was the chief under-alchemist whom she had met at the coffeehouse.
“Ah! Here you are!” cried Bazalgette, hurrying towards the men. “We have the honour of receiving the emperor.”
The two turned from their study of the diagram, and the younger man bowed; the stranger merely stood and waited for the imperial party to approach, whereupon Bazalgette made the introductions. “Your Highness, allow me to present my esteemed visitor, Lord Archelaeus Burleigh, Earl of Sutherland, newly arrived from England.”
Lord Burleigh put his heels together and made a crisp, elegant bow. “Your devoted servant, Majesty,” he said in a full, resonant voice.
“We welcome you, my Lord Earl,” said Rudolf. “Is this your first visit to Prague?”
“It is, Majesty,” replied Burleigh, his German flawless. “But I assure you, it will not be my last.”
Other introductions were made then, which Mina ignored, finding herself wholly unable to take her eyes from the darkly handsome earl. What luck! she thought. A fellow countryman.
The formalities observed, the chief alchemist turned to his assistant. “Rosenkreuz, clear away a space for the use of our friends here,” he commanded. “They are here to produce an elixir of Kaffee for the emperor. Have chairs brought in.”
“At once, Herr Doktor,” replied the young alchemist, handing the parchment diagram back to the earl. With a nod and smile of acknowledgement to Etzel and Mina, the young man began moving beakers and pots, making room for Englebert and Mina’s simple equipment. The box was brought in and unpacked. Working quickly together, fresh water was soon on the fire, the beans ground, and the pot and cups prepared. At each stage of the operation, Englebert with enormous gravity explained what they were doing.
While the company waited for the water to come to a boil, the chief alchemist offered a small tour of his laboratory and Wilhelmina sidled up beside Lord Burleigh. She caught his attention. “Guten Tag, mein Herr,” she said, speaking low. “Ich bin Wilhelmina. But perhaps we can speak English?”
“Delighted to meet you, my dear,” he replied smoothly, his manner at odds with his old-fashioned demeanour.
“When Herr Bazalgette introduced you just now, I was a little surprised. I’ve not met many Englishmen in Prague.”
“Nor will you, I imagine,” he replied, offering her an ingratiating smile. “But, please, if you don’t mind my asking, how did you come to be here?”
“Here in the palace? Or here in Prague?”
“Either,” he said, laughing politely. “Both.”
Before she could answer, Bazalgette called to them, “May I direct your attention to this-our latest discovery!” He lofted a large jug of green glass half full of a cloudy whitish liquid. “Come close, everyone.”
“Another time, perhaps,” said the earl, directing his steps to rejoin the others, who were now gathered around a table heaped high with books and racks of glass vials and porcelain jars.
“Come to my coffeehouse tomorrow,” invited Wilhelmina, falling into step beside him. “I’ll give you a cup of coffee, and we can talk then without interruption.”
“I’d be delighted,” replied the nobleman with a bow of his head. “But, tell me-which Kaffeehaus is it?”
“There is only one.”
CHAPTER 30
In Which a Mystery Is Confronted
