“Your colleague?” Damek smiled, a little too smugly for Crowley’s liking.
He shook anyway, reminded himself not to judge too quickly. “Good to meet you. Thanks for seeing us.”
“It’s not a problem,” Damek said, his English excellent despite a fairly strong Czech accent. “I studied with Professor Phelps for one year on university exchange before he took the job at the museum. You work with him now?”
Rose laughed. “A little presumptuous to say I work with him, but yes I work for him.”
Damek shook his head, smiling. “You do yourself a disservice, Miss Black. The Professor himself described you as working together.”
“Well, that’s very generous of him. And please, call me Rose.”
Damek led them from the public galleries through a couple of cool, quiet stone corridors, then into his offices. Crowley was irritated to realize he was quite lost, no idea which way to run if trouble started. He also realized he’d started thinking like a cat again, always clocking the exits from any room, watching faces, twitchy around sudden movements. It was war training kicking back in and he had to welcome it, though it raised some uncomfortable memories. Focus on the task at hand, Jake, he told himself.
Damek’s offices were large but low-ceilinged, with modern fittings among old stone. Several filing cabinets and glass-fronted display cases lined the walls, and row upon row of shoulder high bookshelves filled one end of the room. At the other end were several desks, many with papers or volumes strewn across them. Despite the signs of work, no one else occupied the archives as Damek led them to the biggest desk in one corner and offered them seats. He turned to a cabinet behind him bearing a kettle and multi-colored, mismatched mugs, and began to make tea. “I asked Phelps what you needed to know and he was a little vague. You have a particular point of interest?”
Rose flicked a look at Crowley and he shrugged, nodded encouragingly.
“The Devil’s Bible,” Rose said. “The Codex Gigas.”
Damek set mugs of tea before each of them and sat on his side of the desk with a cup of his own. “Quite the artifact, that one. Have you seen it?”
“We’ve seen the one in Stockholm…” Rose trailed off, one eyebrow raised.
Damek chuckled. “Ah! You don't believe the book in Stockholm is the genuine article?”
“Do you?”
“It’s surely a conspiracy theory,” Damek said, and sipped his tea.
Rose’s face fell, but Crowley saw something in the young man’s eyes. Amusement, mostly. “You don’t believe it’s a conspiracy theory.”
Damek looked at him, eyebrows raised. “I don’t?”
“No. And the librarian tasked with curating it in the National Library of Sweden made no secret that she believes theirs is a copy.”
“Honestly, I’m not sure what I believe. The history is messy and there are many conflicting stories. It’s very hard to pin down any real facts and I do try to only believe in the things I can confirm, things I can corroborate.”
“Have others asked you about it?” Rose asked.
“No, it’s really only something a few conspiracy theorists believe, but no one I know takes it seriously. No one with any authority, at least. But of course, we know without a doubt that we don’t know everything. Anything is possible.” He sipped tea, brow furrowed in thought. “In truth, very little is known about the bible. Its history is tied in very closely with Rudolf II, whose seat was this very castle for a long time, but Rudolf was an… interesting man. He’s often credited as being a rather useless leader. It’s said that he was responsible for starting the Thirty Years War, but the truth is he was a real Renaissance man.
“Rudolf had little interest in politics and ruling, but a great interest in the arts and sciences. He was a great patron of the arts, a true art lover, and gathered a significant collection. He was a devotee of occult sciences and learning. He was instrumental in seeding the scientific revolution, the age of reason. Without his efforts, things in Europe today, even throughout the world, might be very different. But he has been largely vilified by history.”
Damek was in full lecture mode, suddenly not a young hipster any more but a knowledgeable academic, comfortable in his field of expertise. “Rudolf collected all manner of art and curiosities. He developed an entire wing of the castle here to house his collection. You know, the adjective Rudolfine, as in ‘Rudolfine Mannerism’, is often used in art history to describe the style of art he patronized.
“But more interesting, to my mind at least, were his occult studies, particularly his interest in astrology and alchemy. Those things were considered mainstream scientific fields in Renaissance Prague. Rudolf’s lifelong quest was to find the Philosopher's Stone and he spared no expense to bring Europe’s premier alchemists to his court. He performed his own experiments in a private laboratory. He was even rumored, at one point, to own a copy of the Voynich Manuscript.”
“Really? Was he respected for these things?” Crowley asked. “Or ridiculed?”
“Depends on who you’re talking about. It was a very different time, of course. He was supposed to be ruling across several kingdoms, and was chastised for failing in that pursuit, but others greatly respected his interests. Nostradamus, for example, prepared a horoscope dedicated to ‘Rudolf, Prince and King’. That’s a fairly strong endorsement of the man.”
“Are there any stories that connect Rudolf with the Devil’s Bible?” Crowley asked.
Damek sipped his tea. “It’s well known that Rudolf possessed it, but I’m not aware of any particular stories about that.” He frowned and scratched at his chin.
Crowley chose not to interrupt, Rose clearly feeling the same way. They exchanged a quick glance, part amusement, part frustration.
Damek sniffed and nodded, as if to himself. “Yes, of course. You know, you should investigate the story of the Golem of Prague. That’s the only other relevant reference I can think of.”
“Should we?” Rose leaned forward, put her elbows on his desk, charm turned up to eleven. “Can you show us?”
Damek smiled at her, like he was not in the least bit surprised that this beautiful woman was besotted with him. Crowley made sure his eyes didn’t roll so far that only the whites showed. The precociousness of youth. Then again, this archivist was almost certainly less than ten years younger than Crowley. Perhaps he shouldn’t deride the young guy’s self-confidence so easily. It might be jealousy surfacing, but it was clear, at least to Crowley, that Rose was playing the Czech archivist like a prize fiddle.
“For you, of course I can.” Damek went off among the many shelves while Crowley and Rose shared a quiet laugh. She winked as Damek returned with a large, leather bound volume. “Here it is.”
Chapter 20
“The thing is,” Damek said, clearly pleased with himself, “we have more of the story than most. Do you know anything of the legends surrounding the Golem of Prague?”
“Nothing,” Crowley said.
“I have vague recollections about it being made to protect the local Jews or something.” Rose frowned, shook her head. “Let’s assume we know nothing and you tell us everything.”
Damek nodded, leafing through the large tome on his desk. “Okay, I’ll summarize for you from here.” He cleared his throat, affected the air of a lecturer again. Crowley preferred him this way. It seemed more natural. “So we have the rabbi of Prague at the time of Rudolf’s reign, a man named Judah Loew ben Bezale. He was also known as the Maharal. According to the legends, he created a golem to defend the Prague ghetto from anti-Semitic attacks and pogroms.” Damek smiled up at Rose. “Your memory is very good, after all.”