The man who had been bathing his wound sent his wife back into the house for more water and some fresh linen. The circle of onlookers showed great concern for the stranger and offered their solace in Czech or German. Most lived in the alley-way or the adjacent lane. The others were passers-by. When fresh water arrived, the man cleaned the wound more carefully, then put a pad against it to stem any further bleeding. His wife tore the linen for him to bind around Nicholas’s head. When the bandage was tied, the injured man struggled to his feet with the aid of several hands. He rocked unsteadily.
A man handed him his cap. A woman seemed to be asking if they could take him anywhere. The amateur surgeon was gesturing an invitation for the patient to go into the tiny house to rest. Nicholas thanked them all with a weary smile, then dipped his hand into his purse to take out money. But his self-appointed physician waved it away. He had been only too glad to tend the wound. Nicholas looked around and tried to take his bearings. He was about to stagger off when two figures came running down the alley-way towards him.
‘Nick!’ yelled Lawrence Firethorn.
‘We searched for you everywhere,’ said Owen Elias.
‘What happened to you, man?’
‘Look at the state you are in!’
‘I am fine now,’ said Nicholas. ‘Thanks to these kind people. They must have found me lying there.’
‘Who hit you?’ asked Elias, eyeing the bandage and the sodden cap. ‘He all but took your head off.’
Nicholas did not want to talk to them in front of the curious audience. He waved a general farewell to them and went off down the alley-way with his two friends. Only when they had entered the square did he feel ready to explain what he felt had happened. They listened with a mixture of concern and irritation. Firethorn put his hand on the hilt of his sword.
‘I told you to let me guard your back,’ he reminded.
‘You would have been seen.’
‘I was the man for this task, Nick,’ said Elias. ‘I know how to hug the shadows and melt into walls. That is how I come to be here. I trailed Lawrence from the inn because I knew that he must be looking for you. He had no idea that I was on his heels. I only revealed myself when I saw him searching the square.’
‘True, Nick,’ confirmed Firethorn. ‘I did not seek Owen’s help. He sensed that you were in trouble.’
‘Why did you not use my skills to protect you?’ said Owen.
‘This was something I had to do on my own,’ replied Nick.
‘With what dire result?’ said the Welshman with a surge of emotion. ‘It grieves me that you did not confide in me, Nick. We are friends. We have been through so much together. I have always been ready to share my troubles with you-and there have been plenty of those to share. Why do you lock me out when you need help? What is going on here?’
Nicholas traded a glance with Firethorn, then sighed.
‘We sought to keep the matter between us, Owen,’ he said. ‘We did not want the company to become unduly alarmed.’
Elias was incredulous. ‘Anne disappears and you think that nobody will notice? She is one of us, man. If she is in danger, we are entitled to know how and why. We have grown to love Anne. Trust your fellows.’ He was hurt. ‘At least trust me.’
‘You have earned the right to know what is happening.’
‘Then tell me.’
‘I will.’
Nicholas gave him a brief account of all that had taken place since the discovery of Anne’s disappearance. Firethorn added his comments. As the pain from his wound eased, Nicholas was able to think more clearly. Action was needed. He first retraced his steps to the alley-way and searched with his companions for any clues as to the direction in which his attacker and his accomplice had fled. They found none. The alley-way led to a street off which there were several other streets and lanes, each one of them a possible escape route.
The search was not entirely fruitless. Close to the spot where he fell, Nicholas found the stone which had been smashed against his skull. When he picked it up, his fingers only covered half of it. His attacker must have had a broad hand. But it was the shape and colour of the stone which interested Nicholas. He had seen something very similar before.
‘Where do we go from here, Nick?’ asked Firethorn.
‘I am not sure.’
‘I am,’ said Elias. ‘We press the whole company into service and let them join the hunt for Anne.’
‘No,’ said Nicholas. ‘A hundred people could search and we would still find nothing in this rabbit warren of a city. We are strangers here, Owen. The men who hold Anne are not. They know where to hide.’
‘Close to the inn,’ argued Firethorn. ‘They could not have taken her far. She would have put up a struggle and attracted too much attention. You saw how she must have fought back in her chamber.’
Nicholas shook his head. ‘We saw what they wished us to see. A stark warning, left to frighten us. I do not believe there was any struggle, or it would certainly have been heard by someone. That bedchamber was arranged as carefully as any setting in a play,’ he said. ‘My guess is that Anne had already been taken away.’
‘She is a woman of spirit,’ said Elias. ‘She would fight.’
‘With a knife at her throat?’
‘Nicholas is right,’ agreed Firethorn, mulling it over. ‘She went quietly. That must be how it happened.’ He gave a hopeless shrug. ‘Where does that leave us? We have nothing.’
‘We do,’ reminded Nicholas. ‘We have the most important clue of all. A copy of those documents. They at least will tell us what lies behind all this. Stakes must be high if murder and kidnap are used. The documents will be our guide.’
‘Then are we completely lost,’ cried Firethorn. ‘Those documents are nothing but inane scribble. How can we be guided by something we do not understand?’
‘The code must be used to unlock the meaning.’
‘But we do not know what that code might be.’
‘Then we must turn to the one man who can help us.’
‘Who is that?’
‘Doctor Talbot Royden.’
***
Royden smiled for the first time since the nightmare of imprisonment had begun. Caspar Hilliard had not been idle. By writing a letter of supplication to the Emperor, and by speaking persuasively to the Chamberlain, he had won some important concessions for his master. Fresh straw was put in the cell and several candles were supplied. By their light, Royden was able to study the books he was now allowed to have. Reunited with some of his beloved tomes, he could continue his scientific research. He was still incarcerated, but the loss of freedom was now more tolerable.
‘I cannot thank you enough, Caspar,’ he said.
‘Would that I could have done more!’
‘These are wonderful improvements.’
‘Your release is the improvement I work for,’ said his assistant earnestly. ‘Then we may resume our work in the laboratory. I keep it in good order.’
‘Simply to have a book in my hands again is a joy,’ said Royden, holding a volume on alchemy. ‘How on earth did you wrest these mercies out of our mad Emperor?’
‘My letter explained how close we had been to success and how unjustly I felt you had been treated. The argument that swayed him was this, Master. That news of your imprisonment would make other scholars and scientists think twice about coming to Prague. If they know they may be locked away in the dark of a stinking dungeon, they may offer their services elsewhere.’
‘If only I had, Caspar.’
‘That point, too, was made,’ said the other. ‘The Emperor is proud of his reputation as a generous patron. It brings in the finest minds in Europe. But that reputation will be badly sullied if he is known to deal so callously with his guests.’
‘You are a cunning advocate.’
‘All I am I have learned from you.’