‘No,’ said Nicholas. ‘This must be done privily or we will imperil Anne. Stealth must be our watchword.’
‘They have the documents,’ said Firethorn bitterly. ‘Why did they not release her? What else are they after?’
‘Me.’
As they stepped into the courtyard, they heard a voice from above and looked up to see Caspar Hilliard descending the steps at speed. His manner was as amenable as before.
‘Good even, good sirs,’ he said. ‘Did you knock upon the door of the laboratory a few minutes ago?’
‘We did,’ said Firethorn. ‘Were you within?’
‘Yes, sir. But I dare not answer. I have sworn to my master to protect his laboratory at all costs. It contains his books, his materials, his equipment. Thus far-thank God-it has been left alone. But when I heard that thunderous knocking, I feared it might be soldiers sent from the Emperor.’
‘Is he still so angry with Doctor Royden?’
‘He shifts between rage and remorse,’ said Caspar with a sigh. ‘Emperor Rudolph is at the mercy of his moods. This morning, he relented enough to let my master have light, books and fresh straw for his cell. This evening, he could just as easily order the laboratory to be ransacked.’
‘Why?’
‘What exactly was Doctor Royden’s crime?’ said Nicholas.
Caspar pondered. ‘I can give no details,’ he said. ‘The process must remain a secret between myself and my master. But this you may know. Doctor Royden has realised the alchemist’s dream. He has found the way to turn base metal into gold. The Emperor extracted a promise from him. When the first piece of pure gold came out of the furnace, it was to be fashioned into a wedding gift for Sophia Magdalena. A small casket, surmounted by figures of the bride and groom. The goldsmith has been standing by for weeks.’
‘But the gold was not forthcoming,’ guessed Nicholas.
‘We were almost there,’ said Caspar in exasperation. ‘Another day and all would have been well. But that was too late for the Emperor. The goldsmith would not have had time before the wedding to make the casket.’
‘Had the Emperor set his heart on this gift?’
‘Yes, Master Bracewell. He is man of deep obsessions. If his wishes are flouted, he will turn vengeful. That is how my master came to be humiliated thus. For failing to provide a wedding gift for Sophia Magdalena.’
‘Is he so besotted with her?’
‘I know that I am,’ murmured Firethorn.
‘She has always been his favourite,’ explained Caspar, ‘but there is more to it than that. Or so I have gathered from the gossip that I pick up. Rudolph has a vast Empire but it is very restive. Many battles have been waged in the past and more turbulence is feared. If you travelled through Germany, you will have seen something of the problem.’
‘We did,’ said Nicholas. ‘Religious differences abound. We saw Catholic cities, Lutheran communities and principalities where Calvinism held sway. There was uneasiness between them all. How does the Emperor hold them all together?’
‘He does not,’ said Caspar with some asperity. ‘He turns his back on it all and busies himself with his Court. The Emperor has failed to give a lead. Until now.’
‘Now?’
‘This wedding, sirs. It was all his doing. And it has caused no small upheaval.’
‘In what way?’
‘Many people are offended by the marriage. I cannot say who they are,’ he added quickly, ‘but I hear there has been disquiet. Sophia Magdalena comes from a Roman Catholic family. Conrad of Brunswick is a Protestant. The Emperor hopes that a marriage of the two will be an act of reconciliation.’ He shrugged sadly. ‘We were set to make our contribution. The gold casket was to have been a symbol of the union.’
They began to understand the significance of the wedding. Sophia Magdalena was marrying less out of love than out of policy. She was obeying Emperor Rudolph’s command. To show his profound gratitude, he had not only commissioned a unique wedding gift-a beautiful casket, made from gold which had been provided by his own alchemist-but he had acceded to her request to have an English theatre company as part of the wedding celebrations. In their own small way, Westfield’s Men were a factor in the attempted reconciliation. As a result, they had been caught between two hostile factions.
‘Does that answer your question?’ asked Caspar.
‘One of them,’ said Firethorn, ‘but we have several more.’
‘They can wait,’ decided Nicholas.
‘But we need an interpreter.’
‘At a later date.’
‘Call on me at any time,’ offered Caspar. ‘I have only a menial position at the castle, but I have come to know everyone of consequence here. If you need information, I am here.’
‘Thank you,’ said Nicholas.
Firethorn was baffled by the change of plan but he had the sense to keep quiet. He took his cue from Nicholas and traded farewells with Caspar. The two men strode towards the exit. Firethorn waited until they were outside the main gate before he spoke in a baffled tone.
‘Why did you tear us away like that?’ he asked. ‘He was keen to help. He could have told us something useful about the eleven names on Doctor Royden’s list.’
‘Twelve.’
‘Eleven, Nick. I memorised them.’
‘Twelve.’
‘Who is the twelfth?’
‘Caspar Hilliard. His master forgot his own assistant.’
‘Surely, he is above suspicion.’
‘I wonder,’ said Nicholas thoughtfully. ‘As he was talking, I called to mind a remark he made to us at the inn.’
‘What was that, Nick?’
But the answer had to wait. A volcano of sound erupted. Hooves drummed, harness jangled and wagons creaked as a long cavalcade came surging up the hill. Riding at the head of it was a big, broad-shouldered young man with a fair beard. Conrad of Brunswick had arrived with his train. Beside him, attired in a cloak and hat that matched his dignity, was his father, Duke Henry-Julius of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel.
Flaming torches held by outriders lit up the faces of the newcomers. Sophia Magdalena’s bridegroom sat upright in the saddle and gazed around with a fearless eye. He rode through the castle gates with an almost proprietary air. His entourage was so large that the two friends were forced to step swiftly out of the way. Firethorn protested loudly and Nicholas had to reach out a hand to steady himself. As it made contact with the wall, it dislodged one of the loose stones in the neglected rampart. Nicholas caught it in his palm to stop its falling.
When the whole cavalcade had thundered past, he looked down at the stone. It was almost dark now and he could barely pick out its colour but he knew instinctively what he was holding.
Chapter Eleven
Anne Hendrik was in considerable discomfort. She had been tied to the chair for several hours now and cramp was setting in. Her arms were aching, her wrists were chafed and she had shooting pains in both legs. Yet the physical pain was small compared with her mental anguish. She was terrified that they might never release her. They would certainly have no qualms about killing her. Anne shuddered when she recalled how easily she had been abducted.
Sewing in her chamber at the inn, she had heard the gentle tap and opened the door out of curiosity without even taking the simple precaution of asking who was there. Two men had rushed in with their faces muffled from view. Anne had been overpowered in a matter of seconds. The gag had stifled her cries and the rope tied her hands immovably behind her. She was shown no courtesy. A dagger robbed her of all resistance.
The blindfold made her helpless. She could neither see her kidnappers nor move of her own accord. They had come prepared. A cloak was slipped over her shoulders and its hood pulled up to conceal much of her face. One of them hustled her down the back stairs and out into the street. They walked arm in arm, the knife pressed unseen against her ribs. To passers-by, she must have looked like an ungainly wife being helped along by a caring husband.