Read The Alchemist's Door Online
Authors: Lisa Goldstein
The Alchemist's Door (15 page)
“I wish you luck,” Dee said. “Farewell.”
“Farewell,” Loew said.
The golem moved. “Arrr elll,” it said, the words coming from deep within its chest. Its voice sounded like rocks rumbling down a mountain.
Loew turned to it, his face shining in the darkness. “I had hoped you would be able to speak,” he said. “You must say âfarewell.'”
Dee took his leave. Behind him he could hear the rough
voice of the golem and then Loew's careful enunciation, sounding like the point and counterpoint of prayer.
voice of the golem and then Loew's careful enunciation, sounding like the point and counterpoint of prayer.
He made his way through the darkened city. With the moon down the stars looked brighter, more substantial. For a moment he saw them as an exhibit in the Cabinet of Curiosities, the emperor's astonishments, spread out across the table of the sky.
He shook his head. He was tired, more tired than he had ever been in his life. More tired than when he had spent eighteen hours a day studying at Cambridge. It was only the fear of the king's men that kept him from sleeping in one of the grassy parks, or on one of the benches by the city's many statues and fountains.
He came to his house and climbed up the stairs to the bedroom he shared with Jane. She stirred when she felt him lie next to her but did not wake. He slept nearly a day and a night, dreamlessly, and when he woke it was almost dawn of the next day.
He stood. Jane looked up at him from the bed. “What on earth did you do?” she asked. “You're covered with mud.”
He looked down at himself, saw the streaks on his hands and clothes. There was mud on the bed linen as well. “I'll tell you while I get ready,” he said.
He went outside, pumped water for himself, and carried the bucket to the bedroom. As he undressed and wiped away the traces of the riverbank he told Jane what he and Loew had done together. She looked at him in astonishment when he described how the clay man had sat up and studied its surroundings.
“Be careful,” she said when he had finished.
“I will,” he said. “But I think Rabbi Loew is trustworthy, at leastâhe won't play me false, as Kelley did.”
“No,” she said. “I think you're right about him.”
Her agreement warmed him; he had confidence in her level-headed judgment. For the rest of the morning they
packed together for his journey, then he kissed her and said goodbye to the children, and left for Poland.
packed together for his journey, then he kissed her and said goodbye to the children, and left for Poland.
PEARL WAS WAITING UP FOR LOEW WHEN HE CAME HOME: SHE had warned him that she would not be able to sleep. Her eyes widened when she saw the dark shadow behind him, and she backed away as it followed him into the house.
“Whatâwhat is that?” she asked.
“A golem,” Loew said. She put her hand to her mouth, her eyes flickering nervously between the two of them, and he added quickly, “It will protect us from the king.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“No, not at all. It obeys my every command. Yossel, sit over there.” The golem bent itself awkwardly into the chair Loew had indicated. “You see?”
The fear began to leave her eyes. “Yossel?” she said, almost smiling.
“Yes, well, it needed a name.”
“Where will it stay?”
“I thought in Bezalel's old room.”
“And you're certain it's harmless?”
“Completely.”
She studied the golem a while. “What a thing,” she said softly. “What a thing to have created. You still amaze me, Judah. Could you make it stand up again? I think it might break that chair.”
Loew smiled and told it to stand, and the golem did as he asked.
Over the next few days he spent all his free time with the golem. He hurried through the rest of his dutiesâteaching, counseling, leading prayersâeager to get back to his son's old room, to learn more about Yossel, and to teach it.
Yossel learned quickly. Loew taught it words by pointing
to things; the golem remembered almost everything and in a very short time they were able to have simple conversations. He found chores for it around the house, and, as he had promised, he had it ring the synagogue bells.
to things; the golem remembered almost everything and in a very short time they were able to have simple conversations. He found chores for it around the house, and, as he had promised, he had it ring the synagogue bells.
One day Loew took down a book and opened it. “What is in that box?” Yossel asked. Its voice was deep and slurred, but Loew had come to understand most of what it said.
“This? This is not a box.”
“What is it, then?”
“It's a book. You read from it.” He looked down and noticed with annoyance that he had turned to page thirty-six.
“I read from it?”
“What? Oh, I see. No, not you. I read from it, I and other learned men. See these marks here? They are wordsâthey tell me things.”
Yossel moved closer and peered at the upside-down book. “They look like fire,” he said.
Loew glanced at the golem, suddenly uneasy. Jewish mystics had compared the sinuous Hebrew letters to fire before; some said that the Torah had been written before the creation of the world, in tongues of black fire on a page of white fire.
“I would like to learn to read,” Yossel said. “I would like the fire to tell me things too.”
Loew's uneasiness grew. The golem had never asked for anything before; he had thought it would do as it was told, without desires of its own. “No, that's not possible,” he said.
“Why not?”
“No more questions,” Loew said sharply. “Come outside with meâI need you to chop some wood.”
“What is chop?” the golem asked. “What is wood?”
IN POLAND PRINCE LASKI RECEIVED DEE COLDLY. HE COULD not understand why Dee had left with no explanation, he said,
and he pointed out acidly that he had still not been made king, that King Stephen Báthory continued to sit firmly on the throne of Poland and Hungary.
and he pointed out acidly that he had still not been made king, that King Stephen Báthory continued to sit firmly on the throne of Poland and Hungary.
Dee did not know what to say. Kelley had been the one to predict the kingship for Laski, and Kelley, Dee now knew, had played him false. But when he admitted that Kelley had made mistakes, that, for example, Sir Henry Sidney had not died when Kelley had said he would, Laski grew colder still.
Laski gave him a small room in his manor house, a room that Dee suspected had once been used for servants. It took five steps to cross its width and six for the length; he knew this because he spent a good deal of his time pacing. The room held a bed and a chest and nothing else, and despite the fact that it was April a cold wind forced its way through the walls.
He asked for a desk and a chair, but Laski put him off with vague promises. While he waited, he studied obscure books in Laski's library. The library was dark and gloomy and smelled of old wood; there were no windows, almost as if Laski had not wanted anyone to visit. If so he had gotten his wish; dust lay like fur on the books and shelves and piled up in the corners. One day the candle he had taken from his room burned down while he was reading, plunging him into darkness. He formed a small glow-light, enough to help him find his way from the room, and then went to beg for candles from the servants.
He spent days in the library, running his candle along the spines of the books, sometimes seeing the flame reflected in the shine of a leather book or an incised gold title. Finally he came upon something that looked interesting, a Latin treatise on astrology. The book was nearly two feet high, and heavy, but he managed to carry it to the table and open it. Almost immediately he found a passage about thresholds and doorways to other worlds.
“In some years,” the book said, “the other worlds lie closer to our own, and it is possible to walk from one to another as
easily as one might walk through the doorway of one's own house. Yet there is great danger here, for the spirits can venture into our world as well. And there is another danger, for we have evidence that learned men in previous Threshold Years have managed to return the spirits to their own realms, and in doing so have had to shut the door and secure it strongly, with the result that the spirits, both good and ill, were not able to find their way to our world for years, if not centuries. And there is also evidence that the next time the worlds move closer to each other it will be the last, that if the door closes it will close for the last time, that the spirits will come no more to our realm. And the stars say that this will happen in the year 1586.”
easily as one might walk through the doorway of one's own house. Yet there is great danger here, for the spirits can venture into our world as well. And there is another danger, for we have evidence that learned men in previous Threshold Years have managed to return the spirits to their own realms, and in doing so have had to shut the door and secure it strongly, with the result that the spirits, both good and ill, were not able to find their way to our world for years, if not centuries. And there is also evidence that the next time the worlds move closer to each other it will be the last, that if the door closes it will close for the last time, that the spirits will come no more to our realm. And the stars say that this will happen in the year 1586.”
Dee translated the passage and sent it to Loew. “This says the door might be closed in the next year, in 1586,” he wrote, “and yet it was written in 1471, over a hundred years ago. I believe that whoever wrote it knew a great deal about the subject. Unfortunately he does not indicate how to close the door, nor how to secure it, and I think that it is only when the door is closed that I will finally rid myself of the demon. Though I have to say that I, for one, will be sorry to see the spirits come no more.”
He wrote other letters, a few to Loew but most of them to Jane, glad that he had taken the time to teach his wife to read. He wondered how his children were doing, especially Michael, who was still so young; and how Jane was coping without him; and whether the golem had learned any more words, and if it had had to protect Loew from the king; and many other things besides. He wished that there was some way to talk to them from a distance; perhaps if two parties had scrying glasses, and angels could be summoned to deliver messages ⦠. But no, he had had quite enough of angels for the present.
Loew answered his letter about doors and thresholds a week later. “I, too, would be sorry to live in a world without
spirits,” he wrote. “We believe that there are angels for everything: angels to heal and to slay, for memory and for forgetfulness, an angel to preside at each of the four seasons of the year, angels for every month and star and hour.
spirits,” he wrote. “We believe that there are angels for everything: angels to heal and to slay, for memory and for forgetfulness, an angel to preside at each of the four seasons of the year, angels for every month and star and hour.
“The king has not yet moved against me. We have men who watch him closely, and these people say that he has gone into seclusion, that he speaks to no one, that the affairs of government are being taken care of by his counselors and, for all I know, his scrubbing women and horse grooms. I think it would be safe for you to return, to see how the land lies, at least to visit your family. And you can see how my creation is doing; it has learned a great deal since you left us. You could always go back to Poland if you feel you are in danger here.”
Dee read the letter with growing pleasure. It would be good to return to Prague, to see his family and Loew, if only for a little while.
He arrived in Prague a few days later and spent the day with Jane and the children. Late the next afternoon he told Jane he would be visiting Rabbi Loew and set out for the Jewish Quarter. Loew's wife Pearl answered the door.
“He isn't here,” Pearl said. “He's talking to the chief rabbi and a few others.”
“I thought he was the chief rabbi,” Dee said, surprised.
“Oh, no. They have not seen fit to appoint him.”
She spoke with some bitterness; Dee thought that this must be a sore point with her. But to his annoyance she would not meet his eyes. He remembered now something Loew had told him when they were imprisoned together, that men were not allowed to look at any woman other than their wives, and that the same was true of women and their husbands.
“How long will it be before he comes home?” Dee asked.
“Not very long,” Pearl said.
He began to walk aimlessly through the Quarter. He ended up once again at the cemetery and stood a moment
studying the jumble of headstones. A picture came to his mind, unbidden, of layers and layers of skeletons, all of them tumbling together promiscuously beneath the earth.
studying the jumble of headstones. A picture came to his mind, unbidden, of layers and layers of skeletons, all of them tumbling together promiscuously beneath the earth.
He continued walking. He was not as familiar with the Quarter as he had thought, or he had forgotten a good deal of what he knew, because in a few moments he found himself completely lost. The sun began to set behind the little crooked houses; shadows stretched out before him on the street. It would soon be too late for visiting. He quickened his steps.
Nothing looked familiar. The houses seemed to close in on him. One or two candles burned within, shining against the darkness.
Ahead of him he saw three schoolboys carrying satchels, talking and laughing as they came up the street. “Excuse me,” Dee said.
The boys stared at him. Two ran off, laughing, but one stood his ground.
“I wonder if you can show me the way to Rabbi Loew's house,” Dee said.
“Certainly,” the boy said. “This way.”
He headed down one of the streets and Dee followed. The boy fidgeted; Dee guessed that he preferred conversation to silence, and he was soon proved right.
“Do you see that man?” the boy said, pointing to two people in close conversation. “That's Mordechai Zemah. He's a printer. When King Ferdinand wanted to expel the Jews twenty years ago, Zemah traveled all the way to Rome and got an audience with the pope. And somehow he convinced the pope, and the pope convinced the emperor, and we stayed here. And the man talking to himâhe's an astronomer named David Gans. He corresponds with Tycho Brahe at the Uraniborg Astronomical Institute.”
Dee looked at the two, amazed. He had heard of Brahe, of
course; every educated person in Europe had. More went on in this little quarter than he had ever imagined; listening to this boy he could almost believe he stood in a town filled with legends, a place where heroes walked. And then of course there was Rabbi Loew, whose creation of the golem would probably become another of the town's myths.
course; every educated person in Europe had. More went on in this little quarter than he had ever imagined; listening to this boy he could almost believe he stood in a town filled with legends, a place where heroes walked. And then of course there was Rabbi Loew, whose creation of the golem would probably become another of the town's myths.
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