The center, however, showed a very different image of death: the resurrected Lazarus calmly climbing out of his coffin. With his long legs, dark hair, and serious expression, he looked rather like Matthew. All around the borders of the center panel, lifeless vines produced strange fruits and flowers. Some dripped blood. Others gave birth to people and animals. And no Jesus was in sight.
“Lazarus resembles you. No wonder you don’t want Rudolf to have it.” I handed Matthew his hose. “Bosch must have known you were a vampire, too.”
“Jeroen—or Hieronymus as you know him—saw something he shouldn’t have,” Matthew said darkly. “I didn’t know that Jeroen had witnessed me feeding until I saw the sketches he made of me with a warmblood. From that day on, he believed all creatures had a dual nature, part human and part animal.”
“And sometimes part vegetable,” I said, studying a naked woman with a strawberry for a head and cherries for hands running away from a pitchfork-wielding devil wearing a stork as a hat. Matthew made a soft sound of amusement. “Does Rudolf know you’re a vampire, as Elizabeth does and Bosch did?” I was increasingly concerned by the number of people who were in on the secret.
“Yes. The emperor knows I’m a member of the Congregation, too.” He twisted his bright red hose into a knot. “Thank you for finding these.”
“Tell me now if you have a habit of losing your car keys, because I’m not putting up with this kind of panic every morning when you get ready for work.” I slid my arms around his waist and rested my cheek on his heart. That slow, steady beat always calmed me.
“What are you going to do, divorce me?” Matthew returned the embrace, resting his head on mine so that we fit together perfectly.
“You promised me vampires don’t do divorce.” I gave him a squeeze. “You’re going to look like a cartoon character if you put those red socks on. I’d stick to the black if I were you. You’ll stand out regardless.”
“Witch,” Matthew said, releasing me with a kiss.
He went up the hill to the castle, wearing sober black hose and carrying a long, convoluted message (partially in verse) offering Rudolf a marvelous book for his collections. He came back down four hours later empty-handed, having delivered the note to an imperial flunky. There had been no audience with the emperor. Instead Matthew had been kept waiting along with all the other ambassadors seeking audience.
“It was like being stuck in a cattle truck with all those warm bodies cooped up together. I tried to go somewhere with clear air to breathe, but the nearby rooms were full of witches.”
“Witches?” I climbed down from the table I was using to put Matthew’s sword safely on top of the linen cupboard in preparation for Jack’s arrival.
“Dozens of them,” Matthew said. “They were complaining about what’s happening in Germany. Where’s Gallowglass?”
“Your newphew is buying eggs and securing the services of a housekeeper and a cook.” Françoise had flatly refused to join our expedition to Central Europe, which she viewed as a godless land of Lutherans. She was now back at the Old Lodge, spoiling Charles. Gallowglass was serving as my page and general dogsbody until the others arrived. He had excellent German and Spanish, which made him indispensable when it came to provisioning our household. “Tell me more about the witches.”
“The city is a safe haven for every creature in Central Europe who fears for his safety—daemon, vampire, or witch. But the witches are especially welcome in Rudolf’s court, because he covets their knowledge. And their power.”
“Interesting,” I said. No sooner had I started wondering about their identities than a series of faces appeared to my third eye. “Who is the wizard with the red beard? And the witch with one blue and one green eye?”
“We aren’t going to be here long enough for their identities to matter,” Matthew said ominously on his way out the door. Having concluded the day’s business for Elizabeth, he was headed across the river to Prague’s Old Town on behalf of the Congregation. “I’ll see you before dark. Stay here until Gallowglass returns. I don’t want you getting lost.” More to the point, he didn’t want me stumbling upon any witches.
Gallowglass returned to Sporrengasse with two vampires and a pretzel. He handed the latter to me and introduced me to my new servants.
Karolína (the cook) and Tereza (the housekeeper) were members of a sprawling clan of Bohemian vampires dedicated to serving the aristocracy and important foreign visitors. Like the de Clermont retainers, they earned their reputation—and an unusually large salary—because of their preternatural longevity and wolfish loyalty. For the right price, we were also able to buy assurances of secrecy from the clan’s elder, who had removed the women from the household of the papal ambassador. The ambassador graciously consented out of deference to the de Clermonts. They had, after all, been instrumental in rigging the last papal election, and he knew who buttered his bread. I cared only that Karolína knew how to make omelets.
Our household established, Matthew loped up the hill each morning to the castle while I unpacked, met my neighbors in the neighborhood below the castle walls called Malá Strana, and watched for the absent members of the household. I missed Annie’s cheerfulness and wide-eyed approach to the world, as well as Jack’s unfailing ability to get himself into trouble. Our winding street was packed with children of all ages and nationalities, since most of the ambassadors lived there. It turned out that Matthew was not the only foreigner in Prague to be kept at arm’s length by the emperor. Every person I met regaled Gallowglass with tales of how Rudolf had snubbed some important personage only to spend hours with a bookish antiquarian from Italy or a humble miner from Saxony.
It was late afternoon on the first day of spring, and the house was filling with the homely scents of pork and dumplings when a scrappy eight-yearold tackled me.
“Mistress Roydon!” Jack crowed, his face buried in my bodice and his arms wrapped tightly around me. “Did you know that Prague is really four towns in one? London is only one town. And there is a castle, too, and a river. Pierre will show me the watermill tomorrow.”
“Hello, Jack,” I said, stroking his hair. Even on the grueling, freezing journey to Prague, he had managed to shoot up in height. Pierre must have been shoveling food into him. I looked up and smiled at Annie and Pierre. “Matthew will be so glad that you’ve all arrived. He’s missed you.”
“We’ve missed him, too,” Jack said, tilting his head back to look at me. He had dark circles under his eyes, and in spite of his growth spurt he looked wan.
“Have you been ill?” I asked, feeling his forehead. Colds could turn deadly in this harsh climate, and there was talk of a nasty epidemic in the Old Town that Matthew thought was a strain of flu.
“He’s been having trouble sleeping,” Pierre said quietly. I could tell from his serious tone that there was more to the story, but it could wait.
“Well, you’ll sleep tonight. There is an enormous featherbed in your room. Go with Tereza, Jack. She’ll show you where your things are and get you washed up before supper.” In the interests of vampire propriety, the warmbloods would be sleeping with Matthew and me on the second floor, since the house’s narrow layout permitted only a keeping room and kitchen on the ground floor. That meant that the first floor was dedicated to formal rooms for receiving guests. The rest of the household’s vampires had staked their claim on the lofty third floor, with its expansive views and windows that could be flung open to the elements.