‘We expected you a few days ago,’ he chided.
‘Unforeseen delays on the road,’ explained Nicholas. ‘One of our wagons broke down and we were ambushed by robbers.’
‘Was anyone hurt?’
‘Not on our side,’ said Firethorn, ‘but we swinged them soundly. Nicholas fought off three of them himself.’
‘I see,’ said the Chamberlain. ‘I am sorry to hear about this. The Emperor had intended to arrange an armed escort for you, but…’ He paused to choose his words with care. ‘He was led astray by other matters. You reached Prague. That is the main thing. We are deeply grateful to Westfield’s Men.’
‘It is an honour to be here, sir.’
‘Where and when do we perform?’ asked Nicholas politely.
‘We will come to that in a moment,’ said the Chamberlain. ‘First, we must accommodate our guests. The palace itself is full at the moment, alas, so we have lodged you at an inn. I am told that the Black Eagle will meet your needs.’
‘Thank you.’
‘No cost will be incurred by you. We will settle any bills. Westfield’s Men will want for nothing.’
‘That is very heartening,’ said Firethorn with a grin.
‘In due course, I will get someone to show you the hall where you will perform. When you choose a play, I would like to know its subject before I give my approval. We are in a sensitive situation here. I cannot allow any drama that is critical of our government or discourteous to our religion.’
‘We understand,’ said Nicholas.
‘Good.’ He sat back and looked from one to the other. ‘Now, gentlemen. Is there anything you wish to ask me?’
Nicholas had several questions but the main one was dictated by the bulge beneath his jerkin. Ever since the secret documents he carried had led to the murder of Adrian Smallwood, he had been anxious to deliver them to the man to whom they were sent. He put a hand to his cargo.
‘I believe that a Doctor Talbot Royden is at Court.’
‘He was,’ said the Chamberlain levelly.
‘He is not here any longer?’
‘Oh, he is still at the castle, Master Bracewell. But he is no longer in the hallowed position he once held.’
‘I do not follow.’
‘Doctor Royden is an astrologer and an alchemist. He was retained to provide personal services to Emperor Rudolph.’
‘Personal services?’
‘It matters not what they were,’ said the other coldly, ‘because he is no longer free to offer them. Doctor Royden has been arrested and thrown into the castle dungeon.’
‘Why?’
‘That is of no concern to you.’
‘But it is,’ said Nicholas earnestly. ‘I must speak with him in order to pass on a message from England.’
‘Out of the question.’
‘Is he not allowed visitors?’
‘No,’ came the crisp reply. ‘He is in disgrace.’
‘Can we at least know why?’
The Chamberlain was peremptory. ‘That is the end of the matter. Doctor Royden is being held on the Emperor’s orders.’ He glanced at Firethorn. ‘Did you have a question?’
‘A number, sir,’ replied the actor. ‘The first concerns the lady whose interest in Westfield’s Men brought us here. The Emperor sent the invitation but we know that she must have encouraged him to do so.’
‘That is so, Master Firethorn. Sophia Magdalena watched your company in London and was overwhelmed. She insisted that you were brought here.’
‘She has been our guiding star.’
‘Lawrence Firethorn was mentioned many times.’
‘She wanted me!’
‘Sophia Magdalena says you are a wonderful actor.’
‘Ecstasy!’
‘She will be pleased that you got here in time.’
‘Not as pleased as I am,’ said Firethorn, leaning forward with a chuckle. ‘When may I see the fair maid herself?’
‘At the wedding. Naturally.’
Firethorn gulped. ‘The wedding?’
‘That is why you are here,’ said the Chamberlain. ‘In a few days’ time, Sophia Magdalena of Jankau is to marry the son of the Duke of Brunswick. The marriage will take place in the cathedral. Banquets will be held for a week thereafter. Your plays will be part of the wedding celebrations. Did you not realise that?’
Nicholas adjusted to the news with ease but Firethorn was staggered. Libidinous desires which had sustained him through fatigue and adversity now crumbled into dust. Imagining that Sophia Magdalena had-like so many gorgeous young women before her-fallen hopelessly in love with him during one of his monumental performances, the actor had never paused to wonder if there might be another man in her life. He was at once incensed at the magnitude of his own folly and shaken by what he saw as her betrayal of him.
‘Sophia Magdalena?’ he said under his breath. ‘Rather would I call her Mary Magdalena. The sinful creature!’
The Chamberlain gave a pale smile. ‘We look to you to select plays which are suitable for such an occasion.’
‘We will be happy to do so,’ said Nicholas, covering his companion’s evident exasperation. ‘By way of a wedding gift, we have brought a new play for the bride.’
‘Excellent! What is it called?’
‘The Whore of Prague!’ mumbled Firethorn.
‘The Fair Maid of Bohemia,’ said Nicholas quickly. ‘Our playwright, Edmund Hoode, has fashioned it with care for this joyful event. He will also take part in the play.’
‘We look forward to seeing its first performance.’
‘It will also be its last!’ said Firethorn.
‘Oh?’
‘What Master Firethorn means,’ intervened Nicholas, ‘is that the play is new-minted for Sophia Magdalena. It belongs solely to her and will not be offered elsewhere. Beyond the confines of Bohemia, it would not have the same value or inner meaning.’ He shot the actor a reproving glance. ‘Was not that the decision you reached?’
‘Indeed, it was,’ said Firethorn, regaining his composure and smothering his frustration beneath a fawning smile. ‘Westfield’s Men offer the bride a wedding gift which will sing sweetly in her memory forever.’
‘Sophia Magdalena will be duly grateful,’ said the Chamberlain brusquely. ‘But you will no doubt wish to view the hall where this piece will be staged.’ He reached for a bell. ‘I will have someone conduct you there directly.’
‘One moment,’ said Firethorn, intent on propping up his sagging pride in some way. ‘There is something else we wish to do before that. We are the guests of Emperor Rudolph. His letter of invitation expressly requested us to seek him out as soon as we reached Prague.’ He sat up straight in the chair. ‘Let him know that Lawrence Firethorn has arrived and is desirous of meeting the Emperor.’
Wolfgang von Rumpf spoke quietly through gritted teeth.
‘You have already done so,’ he said.
‘I fear that you are mistaken, sir.’
‘Believe me, I am not.’
‘The only people we have met since we arrived have been a Dutch acquaintance of ours, Hugo Usselincx, and your good self. When are we supposed to have met Emperor Rudolph?’
‘On your way to this apartment.’
Firethorn exchanged a look of amazement with Nicholas.
‘The servant?’
‘That was the Holy Roman Emperor and King of Bohemia.’
‘An underling in his own palace?’
The Chamberlain winced. He spoke with the distaste of a parent who is forced to acknowledge an obstreperous child as his own. He nodded wearily.
‘The Emperor is somewhat eccentric,’ he said.
***
Dressed in the garb of a keeper and carrying a large hunk of fresh meat, Rudolph strolled past the cages in his menagerie and waved familiarly at their snarling denizens. He paused to watch two white doves, perched side by side in their little domed prison, nestling up to each other with cooing affection. Touched by the sight of love in a place of such roaring anger, he moved on until he came to one of the largest cages. Three wolves were padding restlessly around, checking the perimeter of their limited territory in an endless search for escape. They paid no heed to the curious onlooker.