‘But I wish to see him,’ she said. ‘He and his company have given me so much pleasure. I will not turn him away.’
‘What about my portrait?’
‘I will come back to view it again very soon.’
Rudolph flicked a finger and the artist replaced the cloth over the painting. The servant led the way along a corridor until they came to the hall where Westfield’s Men had performed The Three Sisters of Mantua. With the stage still erected, Firethorn could not resist strutting around it and declaiming some verse. Nicholas rested against the edge of the platform. As soon as Sophia Magdalena appeared, both men moved across to meet her and the Emperor. She was taken aback by the sight of the bandage around Nicholas’s head. The exchange of greetings was complicated by her ignorance of their language. Rudolph was pressed into service as an impromptu interpreter.
‘What is this matter of such urgency?’ he asked.
‘We need to see Doctor Talbot Royden,’ said Nicholas.
‘Out of the question!’
‘Why is that, your Highness?’
‘He is permitted to see nobody but his assistant.’
‘Your Highness,’ pleaded Nicholas. ‘We beg you to make an exception in our case.’
‘What is he saying?’ asked Sophia Magdalena, frowning when the request was translated to her. ‘Why must they see him?’
‘They will not,’ vowed Rudolph.
‘Our petition was to your great-niece,’ said Nicholas with a polite bow to her. ‘We have come a very long way at her behest and withstood many trials to be here. Please explain that to her, your Highness. We hoped that she might be willing to help us.’
Under pressure from her, Rudolph translated reluctantly. Sophia Magdalena nodded vigorously at the two Englishmen then rounded on the Emperor. She argued with him in voluble German and waved her arms expressively. Having seen her before as a poised and silent madonna, the two visitors were surprised at how animated she had become. Sophia clearly had a mind of her own and a forceful way of expressing it.
Rudolph resisted her appeal but she did not give up. Throwing a glance of sympathy at the two men, she spoke so powerfully and persuasively on their behalf that the Emperor’s intransigence began to weaken slightly.
‘What harm can it do?’ she urged. ‘Doctor Royden was a good and loyal servant to you. Can you not allow him this one small concession?’
‘He let me down, Sophia. That is unforgivable.’
‘I implore you to think again.’
‘No!’
‘It is such a simple request.’
‘I will not grant it, Sophia.’
‘Not even to me.’ She saw his resolve flicker. ‘Can I not wrest this one small favour from you? Think what I have done at your bidding. Surely that deserves some recompense.’ She threw another glance at the visitors. ‘These are my personal guests. They have made a huge effort to be here for my wedding. I wish to reward them. They would not make such a request unless it was very important to them.’ She took the Emperor’s arm. ‘Help me to thank them for coming to Prague. Please. Let them see Doctor Royden. For my sake. Grant them permission. It is not much to ask.’
The Emperor scowled and grew pensive.
***
The food was welcome but the manner in which it was served was very distasteful. After warning her what would happen if she tried to cry out, the man with the hot breath removed the gag. He spoke in English but his accent was German. She was grateful to be able to move her mouth freely again and took several deep breaths. Something was held against her lips.
‘Eat it,’ he ordered.
‘What is it?’
‘You will find out.’
She bit into the dried fish and found it dry but edible. When the food was swallowed, he held a cup of water to her mouth and she drank it. Anne was still deeply frightened but she took the meal as a hopeful sign. If they intended to kill her, it was unlikely that they would bother to feed her first.
‘Why are you keeping me here?’ she asked.
‘We need a hostage.’
‘For what reason?’
‘To keep your friend, Nicholas Bracewell, at bay,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘As long as we have you, he will not bother us. He cares too much for Anne Hendrik.’
He stroked her hair and she pulled away in disgust.
‘How do you know my name?’ she said.
‘I made it my business to find it out.’
‘Who are you?’
‘That does not matter.’
‘What do you want?’
‘I already have that,’ he said complacently. ‘Nicholas was kind enough to hand it over to me. He thought he would be getting you in exchange.’
‘How long must I stay here?’
‘As long as I deem it necessary.’
‘Will you release me then?’
‘If you behave yourself.’
‘Nicholas will find you,’ she said boldly.
‘He does not even know that this place exists.’
‘He will track you down somehow.’
‘No,’ said the other. ‘He will not need to, Anne. When I am ready, I will go after Nicholas Bracewell.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I have to kill him.’
Her scream of fear was muffled by the gag as he tied it back in position. She struggled hard but her bonds were too tight. He caressed the side of her face with his finger.
‘Forget Nicholas,’ he advised. ‘You will never see him alive again.’
***
As his cell door was unlocked, Talbot Royden peered at his two visitors in astonishment. The gaoler stepped well back from the trio but stayed within earshot.
‘Who are you?’ asked Royden.
‘My name is Lawrence Firethorn,’ said the actor, ‘and this is Nicholas Bracewell.’
‘We are pleased to meet you at last, Doctor Royden,’ said Nicholas.
‘I am not sure that I can say the same about you, sir.’
The prisoner eyed them both suspiciously and wondered how the taller of them had come by his head wound. They had a chance to appraise him. His gown was soiled, his face blotched and his hands filthy. He had removed his hat to reveal short spiky brown hair. Both his ears had been cropped. Royden saw the two of them reaching the same conclusion.
‘Yes, gentlemen,’ he confessed, ‘I was arrested in England for coining and had my ears clipped in punishment. It was a false charge, like so many brought against me, but I bore my adversity. I was also accused of digging up dead bodies for use in my experiments but I was never brought to trial for that. I fled from England and came to Bohemia instead.’
‘We expected a more flattering pedigree,’ said Firethorn.
‘Had you come last week, you would have got it from the Emperor himself. He doted on my work. Then.’
‘We need your help,’ said Nicholas.
‘I am hardly in a position to offer that.’
‘We think you are. Before we left England, we were given documents to bring to you in secret.’
‘From whom? That old charlatan, John Mordrake?’
‘No,’ said Nicholas. ‘From an unknown source. I hazard a guess that it may be someone in the Privy Council.’
Royden stiffened. ‘Why did you act as couriers?’
‘That is what we hope you can tell us.’
‘Have you brought the documents with you?’
‘They were taken from me here in Prague.’
‘Nick was attacked and they were stolen,’ explained Firethorn. ‘Someone was extremely anxious to lay hold of those documents. They have already claimed the life of one of our fellows. He was mistaken for Nick and murdered.’
Royden’s face was composed but his eyes darted about.
‘Without the documents, I cannot help you,’ he said.
‘I made a fair copy of them,’ said Nicholas, taking them from Firethorn. ‘We have risked a great deal to get these to you and we insist on knowing what they contain.’
Royden searched both their faces before he took the sheets of parchment from Nicholas. He unfolded the first one.
‘A short letter,’ said Firethorn. ‘In gibberish.’
‘This will take time.’
The visitors stood shoulder to shoulder to block Royden from the view of the gaoler. The prisoner held the missive close to the candle and scrutinised it with care. They saw his lips moving as he attempted to translate the code in which it was written. When he had finished, he passed it over the top of the flame, then realised what he was doing and checked himself.