L
OEW THOUGHT HE KNEW ALL THE PEOPLE IN the Jewish Quarter, but he could not remember anyone called Samuel son of Abraham. But one evening he mentioned the name to a friend, and the friend reminded him that there used to be a Samuel who made furniture, and that his father's name had been Abraham.
“Is he still alive?” Loew asked. “I don't think I've seen him for five years, but I'm certain I would have heard if he died.”
“I don't know,” the friend said. “You might ask his sister Rachel. I heard something about him, thoughâthat he never leaves his workshop, that he's working on something, I can't remember what. The person who told me this seemed to think that Samuel had gone quite mad.”
The next day Loew set out for Rachel's house, remembering what his friend had told him. Could a madman be righteous? Or was it simply that a righteous man would appear mad to other people?
Rachel answered the door, careful not to look directly at Loew. “Yes, Samuel is still alive,” she said. “He lives in the workshop behind my house.”
“Can I see him?”
Rachel hesitated for a long time. Loew was about to repeat his question when she finally nodded and led him through the house and into the back.
Light poured into the workshop from several windows and lit the single piece of furniture in the room. Loew stopped and stared.
It was a chair, and yet like no chair Loew had ever seen. It was fashioned of cherrywood that had been polished until it nearly glowed. A green stone shone in the center of the back and a shimmering mass of white coruscated out from it; it looked like an emerald surrounded by diamonds, although Samuel couldn't possibly have afforded so many precious stones. Gold and silver filigree twined around other jewels, glittering red and blue and yellow.
Samuel had been polishing the chair as they came in. Suddenly he stepped back, sat on the floor, and began sketching frantically, ignoring his visitors. Rachel said, “Samuel, Rabbi Loew is here to see you.”
Samuel looked up, making an effort to come back from wherever he had been. “Good day, Rabbi Loew,” Samuel said. “Is he here yet?”
“Who?” Loew asked, taken aback.
“You've come to tell me he's returned, isn't that right? That my task here is almost finished.”
“I'm sorryâI don't understand.”
“Elijah the prophet. He's coming. This time he will bring the Messiah, and all our suffering will be at an end. And thisâthis is his chair. The Messiah's chair.”
Rachel looked at Loew, an expression of hopelessness on her face. He saw what she had had to endure for the past five years, saw that her brother had quietly gone mad without anyone in the Quarter realizing. Now he noticed that her clothes and Samuel's were very nearly rags, that they both had the gaunt look of someone on the verge of starvation, that their roofâwhich he could see from the open door of the workshopâneeded fixing, and that several of their windows had
been covered by wooden boards. But the roof of the workshop was sturdy and all its windows were glass.
“Other people are preparing for him as well,” Samuel said, not noticing Loew's horrified expression. “There is a man making his shoes, of the softest leather. And another who is making his cup out of solid emerald.”
Loew had never believed that the Messiah would come in his own lifetime. Perhaps he had been wrong, though; after all, why would someone devote his life to such an improbable task if it wasn't true?
The chair blazed in the center of the room, a green and red and blue fire. Loew shook his head. No, the Messiah would not come; none of the signs pointed to it. Samuel was mad, as his friend had said. And it appeared that others in the Quarter had caught his madness as well. They should be found, and helped. Samuel should be helped. And his poor sister â¦
“Who are these other people?” Loew asked.
Samuel went back to his sketching and did not answer. “Can you give me money to continue my work?” he asked, not looking up. “Thirty-six pennies, perhaps?”
DEE SAT IN HIS ROOM AND READ LOEW'S ACCOUNT OF HIS adventure. Spring had turned into summer but he could not get warm; he kept the furnace going at all times and wrapped himself in his fur while he worked.
Countess Erzsébet had not left after the month was up but had stayed on with her retinue. Magdalena said that the rumors about her were growing more and more lurid, and Dee noticed that the household staff tiptoed past her room, casting anxious glances over their shoulders as they went.
“Should we cross Samuel off the list?” Loew had written. “Is he mad? It all depends, I suppose, on whether the Messiah
comes or not. For myself, I have gone to the Chief Rabbi to ask if anything could be done for themâso, as you can see, I am not expecting any supernatural aid. The rabbi will make certain that they get almsâthough I am afraid Samuel will simply use the money to continue his work.
“I also found Anna, the wife of Václav the cobbler. Rather, I found out what has become of herâshe died of a fever last winter. Everyone I talked to could not speak highly enough of herâshe was a saint, a kind caring woman who helped everyone she could. Even I, who never knew her, have begun to think we have lost something very precious now that she is gone. But she cannot be the thirty-sixth, then, can she? The thirty-six are the pillars upholding the world, or so I understand it; if one of them topples the world falls, and Rudolf, or anyone, is free to remake it any way he wants.
“There is one more interesting thing about Anna, thoughâshe lived at 36 Karlova Street.
“You ask me how I am. We have not been bothered by Rudolf since that last time. I think he fears my power, fears what I could do if he sends more men against me. Fortunately, he does not know how small my protection is, that it consists of one man.
“I say âman,' yet of course I know Yossel is not a man, that he lacks a soul, which can only come from God. But we have been talking, Yossel and I, and I have been amazed by his intelligence. Amazed and disturbed, sometimes, because he asks me questions I have not been able to answer. Why can't he pray with the rest of the town? Why can't he study with us?
“But I was telling you about Rudolf. He has always been curious about my knowledge of Kabbalah, and now rumors are reaching him that I have managed to make a man of clay. He is not finished with us hereâhe will try again, and when he does I do not know what will happen. Sometimes I feel I
should return to Poland, and yet I know I must stay here: I have been chargedâby God?âto find the thirty-sixth and I must not leave until I do. Your friend, JL.”
Dee shook his head. The Messiah would not come, of course. He had already come, and the Jews had not recognized him. It was odd, Dee thought, that he had almost forgotten Loew's false beliefs. Yet if Loew was in England he would be tortured or even burned if he expressed them aloud.
He dipped his pen in the inkwell and crossed off Anna, and Samuel son of Abraham.
A knock came at his door. He opened it to find Magdalena standing there, a tray of food in her hands. She looked, once again, like an old crone, and he wondered if he had imagined seeing her change from a young woman, if Magdalena had been right and he had simply confused her with someone else.
“I must tell you something about Erzsébet,” she said, pushing past him into the room. She put the tray on his table and sat down without waiting to be asked. “I was right about that woman, that Marie. She's a poisoner. They all are.”
He sat opposite her. His heart was pounding loudly. How did she know so much about Erzsébet? He lifted a piece of bread, then realized he could not possibly eat it and set it back down. He watched her carefully. Would she change shape before his eyes?
She did not seem to notice his discomfort. “I went back into Erzsébet's rooms and started dusting,” she said. “Someone isn't cleaning those rooms rightâthere's an odd smell in there. I don't know what all those women do all day. Anyway, I cleaned Anna's room, and then went into Marie's. She'd left her book, that book she said was a Bible. So I opened it, and the first thing I saw was the words âpain and poison'”
“Pain and poison? That's what the book said? Could you read anything else?”
“No, unfortunately. Just as I was looking at it I heard
someone come in. I closed the book and went out quickly, and there were Erzsébet and Anna and Marie. Erzsébet asked me what I was doing there. I said I'd been sent to clean the rooms. Erszébet said that I must be mistaken, that her own servants took care of that. She was smiling. I hate her smile. I curtseyed and said that I must have gotten confused and gone to the wrong rooms. And then I ran down to the kitchen and got your supper, and came back up when I was sure they'd all be back in their rooms.”
“Did you see Judit?”
“No.”
“Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Marie knows you, doesn't she? We talked to her once, remember? And Erzsébet must have seen you in the hallways. Didn't they think it was strange that you'd gotten confused after you'd been here all this time?”
“I don't think they recognized me.”
“How could they not recognize you? You're very memorable. Or did you change shape again? Did you do something in Erzsébet's rooms, take some potion that made you younger?”
“I would never take any potion of theirs. I told youâthey poison people.”
“You didn't answer my question. Did you change shape again? Is that why they didn't recognize you?”
She said nothing for a long time. She sat up straighter, preparing, Dee thought, to lie again. Then he noticed that her hair was turning darker, that her blurred features were becoming clearer, her skin tauter. The foul odor around her had disappeared; now he could smell only the light sweat of a healthy young woman in the midst of her chores. She stared at him from clear blue eyes.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
“I'm Magdalena,” she said. “I'm twenty years old. I've had to disguise myself to be able to live on the streets. Before I learned what simple magic I know, Iâwell, terrible things
happened to me.” She shook her head, put her head in her hands. Her hair fell, shining like gold, over her fingers.
She was beautiful, he realized. And yet he was used to speaking to her as if she were sexless, almost as if she were a colleague. To his embarrassment he felt himself growing aroused by her nearness.
She was looking at him, her eyes wide with fear. “Please don't tell anyone. Please keep my secret. I couldn'tâI couldn't bearâ”
No. He had to banish these dreadful thoughts, had to prove to her that she could trust him even if she trusted no one else. He was old enough that she could have been one of his children. That was how he had to think of her, as a daughter. “Of course I will,” he said.
“Thank you. You'reâyou're very kindâ”
“Not so kind. I was cruel to you, several times, wasn't I? So that's why youâ” Why you used such foul language, he thought. And why there was always such a terrible smell around you, and why I could never manage to see you clearly. You've learned to keep people at a distance.
“You know what frightens me?” she said. “My magic doesn't work in Erzsébet's rooms. She has some sort of opposing spell, some evil magic ⦠. I need your help, Doctor Dee. I need to learn more to stay alive.”
He remembered his passing thought, that he could teach her a simple shape-changing spell. “I would imagine you know as much as I do,” he said. “But what happened to you? Why are you living on the streets? Where's your family?”
She shrugged. “My mother died, my father put me out. It's a common story.”
“How old were you?”
“Eleven.”
He drew a breath. His daughter Katherine was nearly four. In seven short years ⦠No. It would never happen, he vowed
that on everything precious to him. He would care for her from beyond the grave if he had to.
“What are we going to do about Erzsébet and her women?” she asked.
“Nothing. You can't risk going into her rooms again. What she does is her cousin István's business, not ours. And we haven't actually seen her poison anyone.”
“István doesn't want to know what she does. Everyone in the kitchens says so.”
“Still. There's nothing we can doâwe're in danger ourselves. We can only protect ourselves, and trust in God, and hope that everything works out for the best.”
She nodded doubtfully and left. But that night he woke from a troubled sleep and thought he heard loud sobs from across the hall. He stood and went to the door, but either the sound had stopped, or it had been part of a malign dream.
SUMMER PASSED INTO FALL. DEE MISSED HIS FAMILY MORE than ever, missed Jane's cheerful common sense and the children's noisy games. At odd times he would remember Arthur saying, “Stick your finger down your throat,” and he would smile softly. A letter from Jane would be cherished and read over and over again.