Matthew and Gallowglass arranged themselves so that Rudolf couldn’t get too close to me as we trooped through the door and into a room that looked like the storeroom for an overstuffed and understaffed museum. Shelves and cabinets held so many shells, books, and fossils that they threatened to topple over. Huge canvases—including the new painting of Venus, which was not simply detailed but openly erotic—were propped up against bronze statues. This must be Rudolf’s famed curiosity cabinet, his room of wonders and marvels.
“Your Majesty needs more space—or fewer specimens,” Matthew commented, grabbing a piece of porcelain to keep it from smashing to the floor.
“I will always find a place for new treasures.” The emperor’s gaze settled on me once more. “I am building four new rooms to hold them all. You can see them working.” He pointed out the window to two towers and the long building that was beginning to connect them to the emperor’s apartments and another new piece of construction opposite. “Until then Ottavio and Tadeá? are cataloging my collection and instructing the architects on what I require. I do not want to move everything into the new Kunstkammer only to outgrow it again.”
Rudolf led us through a warren of additional storerooms until we finally arrived at a long gallery with windows on both sides. It was full of light, and after the gloom and dust of the preceding chambers, entering it felt like taking in a lungful of clean air.
The sight in the center of the room brought me up short. Matthew’s altarpiece sat open on a long table covered with thick green felt. The emperor was right: You couldn’t fully appreciate the colors when you stood close to the work.
“It is beautiful, Dona Diana.” Rudolf took advantage of my surprise to grasp my hand. “Notice how what you perceive changes with each step. Only vulgar objects can be seen at once, for they have no mysteries to reveal.”
Strada looked at me with open animosity, Hájek with pity. Matthew was not looking at me at all, but at the emperor.
“Speaking of which, Majesty, might I see Dee’s book?” Matthew’s expression was guileless, but no one in the room was fooled for an instant. The wolf was on the prowl.
“Who knows where it is?” Rudolf had to drop my hand in order to wave vaguely at the rooms we had just left.
“Signor Strada must be neglecting his duties, if such a precious manuscript cannot be found when the emperor requires it,” Matthew said softly.
“Ottavio is very busy at present, with matters of importance!” Rudolf glared at Matthew. “And I do not trust Dr. Dee. Your queen should beware his false promises.”
“But you trust Kelley. Perhaps he knows its whereabouts?”
At this the emperor looked distinctly uneasy. “I do not want Edward disturbed. He is at a very delicate stage in the alchemical work.”
“Prague has many charms, and Diana has been commissioned to purchase some alchemical glassware for the Countess of Pembroke. We will occupy ourselves with that task until Sir Edward is able to receive visitors. Perhaps Signor Strada will be able to find your missing book by then.”
“This Countess of Pembroke is the sister of the queen’s hero, Sir Philip Sidney?” Rudolf asked, his interest caught. When Matthew opened his mouth to answer, Rudolf stopped him with a raised hand. “It is Dona Diana’s business. We will let her answer.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I responded in Spanish. My pronunciation was atrocious. I hoped that would diminish his interest.
“Charming,” Rudolf murmured. Damn. “Very well then, Dona Diana must visit my workshops. I enjoy fulfilling a lady’s wishes.”
It was not clear which lady he meant.
“As for Kelley and the book, we shall see. We shall see.” Rudolf turned back to the triptych. “‘I will see, be silent, and hear.’ Isn’t that the proverb?”
Chapter Twenty Eight
"Did you see the werewolf, Frau Roydon? He is the emperor’s gamekeeper, and my neighbor Frau Habermel has heard him howling at night. They say he feeds on the imperial deer running in the Stag Moat.” Frau Huber picked up a cabbage in her gloved hand and gave it a suspicious sniff. Herr Huber had been a merchant at London’s Steelyard, and though she bore no love for the city, she spoke English fluently.
“Pah. There is no werewolf,” Signorina Rossi said, turning her long neck and tutting over the price of the onions. “My Stefano tells me there are many daemons in the palace, however. The bishops at the cathedral wish to exorcise them, but the emperor refuses.” Like Frau Huber, Rossi had spent time in London. Then she had been mistress to an Italian artist who wanted to bring mannerism to the English. Now she was mistress to another Italian artist who wanted to introduce the art of glass cutting to Prague.