SEVEN

After the meal was finished, down to the last nut and fig, the Egyptians went outside to construct their stage and get ready to perform. Dee likewise had preparations to make, less elaborate perhaps but just as vital for the final effect. As the Egyptians filed out, he stopped Marlowe.

‘Master Marlowe,’ he said, all formality. ‘What will be your performance tonight?’

‘I am to be part of a strong man act,’ Marlowe told him with a smile. ‘But to save my blushes in front of friends, I am to be only a storyteller tonight. I think that Simon will need practice before he can do much with me. I’m heavier than I look.’

‘Christopher, you are as thin as a lath,’ Dee said. ‘But if you are not busy performing with your new friends, could you perhaps help me with a trick?’

‘If I can,’ Marlowe said. ‘Does it involve . . . necromancy, at all?’ Dee’s skill at the art of raising the dead had never been proved to Marlowe’s total satisfaction, but that he had links with worlds outside the one they all inhabited in the day to day was not really in any doubt. Anyway, this was the Queen’s necromancer, her magus and if the Queen believed in him, who was a mere subject to disagree?

‘No, no. Well, perhaps I should say, not really. All is trickery, Christopher, all is illusion. I won’t need to practise with you; just do as I say when the time comes and we will do splendidly, I feel sure.’ The magician clapped the poet on the back. ‘How have you been, though? We looked for you in London, but although there were signs and portents, you never came.’

‘I have visited London,’ Marlowe said, remembering his few hurried secret meetings with Walsingham or one of his crew, always in darkness, always in an anonymous alleyway; the Clink Wharf, the Cranes in the Vintry. ‘I have been working, though, as a tutor.’

‘Not a scholar still? What a loss.’ Dee looked at him from under his brows and it was impossible to tell if he was laughing at him or not.

‘A scholar again, I hope,’ Marlowe said. ‘I am just . . .’ he tried to think of a good reason why he should be with the Egyptians, but nothing sprang to mind. He had told Hern a vague tissue of hints and suggestions, but nothing concrete. He had hoped he would never have to give details.

‘Just doing a little spying,’ Dee finished for him, in a whisper. ‘Don’t worry, Kit, I move in higher places than you. I know not only where the bodies are buried but who wielded the spade. I won’t let you down. Any secret you may have is more than safe with me.’

Marlowe looked at the man before him, in robes which had once been rich and beautiful but which had now seen better days. His eyebrows had grown back since his last alchemical experiment had gone skywards, but the acid stains on the front of his gown and the fact that his hair was noticeably longer on one side than the other bore witness to the fact that for him the search for knowledge never stopped; the elixir of life was a lifetime’s work and a man could grow old looking for the fountain of youth.

‘Will you let me know when you need me?’ Marlowe asked him. ‘I feel I should help outside. I am trying to become a part of the troupe in all ways. Standing in here in the warm while they work outside won’t help me with that.’ And he turned to go.

‘Be careful,’ Dee spoke quietly behind him. ‘This troupe is tricksy and not quite what they seem. Or so I’m told.’

Marlowe continued through the door. How could the Egyptians not be what they seemed? They seemed to be a group of beggars and thieves with a spot of dubious magic thrown in. He had seen them practising. The card tricks, done slowly, were no more than tricks; the bent-up corner or the clever shuffling was all it took to fool a country crowd. He had seen one of the women, he wasn’t sure of her name, possibly Lily or Rose, a flower at any rate, seem to cure a woman who was dying of childbed fever as they passed through a village on the way to Ely. But did she cure her? Was she dying? What was real and what was illusion? He couldn’t tell, yet. In a while he would know, when he had lived with these people a little longer, learned their ways. But for now, just for tonight, he was determined to put aside Kit Marlowe, intelligencer, and become Kit Marlowe, poet and storyteller; just a man prepared to be amazed.

‘Come on, Master Marlowe,’ Ernesto said as he stepped outside. ‘Don’t just stand there. Put your finger on this knot here.’ Marlowe wandered over and was about to comply when a sixth sense alerted him.

‘Why?’

‘Why not?’ the man retorted. ‘Why not, get it? Not. Knot. Oh, I really must try and sneak that into the act.’ Then he looked at Marlowe seriously. ‘Because I need to tie it up, of course. Sometimes things are just as they seem.’

Apologizing, he put his finger on the knot and within seconds was tied down tight to the top of the stage, by the end of one finger. The more he struggled, the tighter the knot became and the perpetrator of the joke had melted into the darkness of the court. Marlowe tried to attract someone’s attention, but no one seemed to see him there.

‘Come on, Master Marlowe,’ a voice said. ‘Don’t just stand there. There’s work to be done.’

Marlowe pointed to his finger. ‘I seem to be a little tied up, Balthasar,’ he said.

Laughing, the soothsayer leaned over and pulled one end of the knot, which immediately unravelled and fell away. ‘Be careful with us, Kit,’ he said. ‘Sometimes things are not just as they seem.’

‘I am learning that, Balthasar, thank you,’ Marlowe said, rubbing the end of his finger carefully. ‘What can I do to help?’

‘I think we are almost ready,’ the man replied. Torches had been lit at the entrance to the courtyard which had become the rear of the performing area. Seats had been brought out for the household and the wenches and men who had been brought in to serve the meal. The servants from the house did not come with the rent but even so some of them had crept back to the house as soon as they discovered there was a show to be seen. They had heard rumours about John Dee and the village was full of tales about plumes of coloured smoke rising from the chimneys and they were anxious to see what was to be seen. And if it annoyed their employer, the old skinflint Gregory Leslie, then the perfection of the evening would be complete. They were spread out along the front of the house, on boxes and blankets to keep the chill of the ground from their bowels. They all knew from their grannies that sitting on the cold ground would make your bowels fall out and that didn’t sound at all a pleasant thing. Finally, everything was ready and the small audience was hushed.

When the silence was about to degenerate into a hiss of mutterings and shiftings, Hern stepped forward. A torch in front of him sprang spontaneously to life and illuminated his face from below, giving it sinister hollows and highlights that it did not usually possess. Having gained their attention, he waited again, and again judged the perfect psychological moment, when their nerves were twanging at their utmost, but before the nervous laughter could begin.

‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,’ he boomed, throwing his arms wide. ‘And thank you, Dr Dee, for your hospitality tonight. My band of Egyptians has fed royally and won’t need to pick a pocket or steal a fowl for a day or two. What do you say, boys?’

A gaggle of children broke cover from under the stage, juggling with purses and bags which all looked familiar to the crowd, because it was from them that the children had lifted them not half an hour before. An angry muttering started, stilled by Hern.

‘Give them back, my lovelies, give them back and with no less in them than you found there.’

As the audience looked into their purses, which had contained little enough before, each one let loose a pure white butterfly, which flapped into the air and disappeared into the dark sky. They followed their flight with eyes and mouths wide with amazement.

‘A very nice touch,’ Dee muttered to Helene. ‘How did they do that, do you think?’

‘Wires,’ Bowes said, definitely. ‘Wires, has to be.’

‘Thank you, Samuel,’ Dee said. ‘Why is it that you always come up with the most difficult answer? Would magic not be easier than a dozen wires, so fine that they cannot be seen or felt? But, hush, there is more.’

Hern had moved to one side and Balthasar had appeared at the other side of the stage, blindfolded and led by Maria. ‘Now,’ Hern said, ‘I introduce to you Balthasar, who can see into the innermost mind of man. Do not try to keep a secret, ladies and gentlemen, because the more you think of keeping it, the stronger the message will come into your mind. And Balthasar will pluck it from there and will display it to the world. So be careful what you think of. Eloise will guide him along the line and he will tell you your innermost thoughts. Are you all ready?’

He looked at the crowd and saw that most people were nodding. Dee was sitting with an amused look on his face, Edward Kelly was leaning against the door jamb, back inside the porch, half hidden from view and Helene was staring intently at Marlowe where he was standing at the side of the stage with the others, trying to blend in. They were ready, he could tell.

‘Eloise? Is Balthasar ready?’ The woman whispered in his ear and turned to Hern and nodded. ‘Then, lead the soothsayer among us. See what he can find in the depths of men’s minds.’

Holding Balthasar by the hand, the woman led him to the end of the line and began to walk slowly along. Balthasar’s eyes were bound with many layers of thick multicoloured cloth and he looked down at the ground. A disbeliever, a groom currently unemployed thanks to the rental of the big house, jumped to his feet and threw a punch at Balthasar’s face, pulling it at the last minute and the Egyptian didn’t even flinch. The man turned to the rest of the audience and made a gesture to Balthasar, waving his hand in front of his own eyes. Clearly, he could see nothing.

‘There is a mind here full of a man,’ Balthasar suddenly cried, with his arm in front of him. No one moved as he inched along the row, feeling with his fingers, but not quite touching anyone. When he got to the cook, his hand darted forward and pressed down on the top of her head. She made an indignant noise and then spoke up.

‘I am a respectable woman, I’ll have you know,’ she said, shaking him off. ‘Widowed these many years. Men indeed! What would I want with a man?’

Balthasar spoke to the crowd. ‘What she wants to do with a man is not for the ears of our children. I will whisper in her ear and then you can see if I have divined her thoughts correctly.’ He leant forward and spoke quietly to the cook. The crowd didn’t make a sound, hoping to hear a salacious comment but his voice was too low.

Suddenly, the cook got to her feet like a mountain surging out of the sea and slapped Balthasar’s face. Without a word, she turned for the house, overturning her chair and dashed, head down, for the door. Seeing Edward Kelly there, she stopped, then fetching him a ringing slap as well, ran into the house and slammed the door.

The audience went wild and the laughter rang and echoed through the courtyard. Dee leaned over to Bowes. ‘Wires?’ he asked, with a twinkle in his eye.

‘Not hard to work out, Master,’ Bowes said. ‘We all know what she would like to do with Edward Kelly.’

‘What she has done many times with Edward Kelly,’ Helene added, from Dee’s other side. ‘He has . . . unusual tastes, or so I hear.’

Dee gave her a calculating look but decided that the show was the thing. Time enough to winkle the truth out later. Balthasar was still making his way along the line, and the laughter followed him, although sometimes it was more than a little forced. With his impeccable timing, Hern stopped the show before the idea got stale and called for applause for the Amazing Balthasar, who swept off his blindfold and bowed low. He and Eloise ran round behind the stage, to get ready for their next performances. The Egyptians didn’t waste a single person – they all had more than one trick up their sleeve.

‘Well done with the cook, Eloise,’ Balthasar said.

‘Not difficult to see, that one,’ she said. ‘She had a guilty conscience a mile wide and jumped out of her seat when you spoke. But how did you know what to whisper?’

‘Also not too difficult,’ he said. ‘I know Edward Kelly and his little ways. Know that, and the rest is easy.’

On the stage, the children were lined up in order of size. The only ones missing were the two who couldn’t yet walk without falling over every other step. As soon as they could be relied upon to walk round an audience with a collecting hat, they would be put to work. But for now they were asleep behind the stage, being watched by anyone who was not actually performing. Marlowe wondered how they could sleep with so much going on; in fact, they couldn’t sleep when it was quiet.

First, the tallest child, still only about twelve years old, climbed up on to Frederico’s shoulders. Then Simon stood alongside Frederico and invited the next in size on to his shoulders. At a couple of inches taller than Simon, Hern came next and linked arms with Simon and the next tallest child took a run up and jumped aboard, springing off Hern’s knee. The next two children made the next level and finally Balthasar threw little Starshine into the air where, after a somersault, she landed on the shoulders of those two. The audience went wild and wilder still when Simon braced himself and took the weight of Hern and Frederico on their linked arms at both sides.

‘Very interesting,’ Dee said to Helene, ‘but when will we see magic? As yet, I have seen nothing but common tumbling and common sense.’

‘I’m sure they are building up to it,’ Helene said. ‘Look – what is happening now?’

One of the mid-sized children, who Marlowe had learned was called Bracket, had appeared in the middle of the stage, with a snake wrapped around one arm. A large jar was brought on stage and Hern picked up the boy and put him in it, sealing it with an enormous cork at the top. Then Simon jumped on to the stage from the other side with a huge mallet in his hands and, taking a mighty swing, smashed the jar to smithereens. There was a gasp from the crowd as the snake slithered out of the shards to be caught by Hern. But of Bracket, there was no sign. Some people sitting against the wall of the house crossed themselves surreptitiously. Others closed their eyes and muttered prayers. Dee nodded sagely, but muttered, ‘Conjuring. No more, no less,’ to his wife. But even he was surprised when Bracket popped out from under his chair, sketched a bow to Helene and ran up to Hern to reclaim his snake.

And so the show went on, with firecrackers, flaming hoops through which the men threw the children, curled into tight balls, juggling with knives and Frederico’s sword-swallowing and fire-eating act. But finally, Hern walked solemnly on to the stage and waited for silence.

‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I hope you have enjoyed our show. We have certainly enjoyed entertaining you in this lovely setting and, thanks to the generosity of Dr Dee, we will not need to pass the hat.’

This was met with a storm of applause which Dee acknowledged with a small bow.

‘Although,’ Hern added, ‘the hat will be on the edge of the stage, should anyone feel like adding a few groats to it as they go out.’ In the silence which met that statement, it was possible to hear the plink of the stones of the courtyard cooling now that all the torches were out. Finally, the audience realized that they would not be getting any more and started gathering their things together to leave and in a very short while, the courtyard was empty, save for Dee, Hern, Balthasar and Marlowe.

‘Well, gentlemen,’ Dee said. ‘Thank you for a wonderful evening’s entertainment. It was certainly the best night that this old house has seen for a while, I should imagine. But where is the real magick?’

‘You saw Bracket disappear,’ Hern said.

‘I saw a child appear to disappear,’ Dee said. ‘I saw some things from a distance and in dim light. I saw sleight of hand, I saw clever conjuring. Come in to my house now, now that all is quiet, and we will show each other magick.’

Hern glanced at Balthasar. ‘Are you ready to show Dr Dee a secret?’ he asked.

‘I will show him a secret, willingly,’ Balthasar said. ‘But I will not explain to him how it is done. He will have to work it out for himself.’

‘That sounds fair,’ Dee said. ‘Where do you prefer to work, Master Gerard?’

‘Balthasar, please,’ the Egyptian said. ‘I don’t mind where I work. This is magick, don’t forget, Dr Dee. Not a trick to deceive a few country folk.’

‘My retiring room, then,’ Dee said. ‘There is a good fire in there, and Helene is waiting to be amazed.’

‘Your wife?’ Hern asked. ‘Does she have an interest in magick, then?’

‘Indeed. She has a not inconsiderable talent of her own in that direction. If you would like to invite your . . . wife, Balthasar?’ Dee said, politely.

‘I have no wife,’ the Egyptian replied.

‘I’m sorry,’ Dee said, watching from under his lashes, ‘I thought that you and . . . Rose, is it? There seemed to be . . . something.’

Marlowe smiled to himself. Balthasar was up against a worthy opponent here, if all he intended to do was watch the play of a man’s feelings on his face, as he did when telling the future. Dee could see into a man’s soul and out the other side. And that was on a bad day; when his reputation was at stake, the man was terrifying.

‘She is not my wife, Dr Dee, but she would welcome a warm by the fire, I am sure,’ Balthasar said. ‘I will fetch her and then we can begin.’

‘Helene will wait in the Great Hall, to bring you to the right room,’ Dee said. ‘I will just have a word with my cook. I will still be needing meals when you have moved on and I fear she is a little unnerved by this evening’s revelation.’

‘She would have done well to stay away from Edward Kelly, then,’ Balthasar said. ‘And I would say the same to you, Dr Dee. I was surprised to see such a one here.’

‘Charity,’ said Dee. ‘I have given him charity just for tonight. And Christopher here has ousted him from his bed, so not so much of that, even.’

‘He will bite the hand that feeds him,’ Hern said. ‘He was ever thus.’

‘I am pleased to hear you all think so well of me,’ a voice said from the darkness.

‘An eavesdropper never hears well of himself,’ Dee said, without turning round. ‘I think that it is time that you settled yourself down for bed, Ned. The straw in the stable is clean and I believe Helene has put out a flagon and some bread for you, should you still be hungry.’

‘How kind,’ said Kelly, in a sneering mimicry of Dee’s voice. ‘I’m off to bed, then.’ He tapped Hern on the shoulder. ‘Any of your women need warming, Hern? As Balthasar knows, I can teach them a thing or two.’

In a flash, Hern was behind him, twisting his arm up behind his back and pressing a blade to his throat.

‘I am assuming that your answer is not,’ Kelly said, carefully, trying not to move his throat too much. ‘If you could perhaps let me go, I can be away to my bed.’

Hern dropped him and aimed a kick as he slunk around the front of the house, heading for the stables. ‘Charity?’ he asked Dee.

‘Christian charity.’ The magus nodded. ‘He was my friend, once.’ Dee turned and walked across the Great Hall towards a small door in the corner, which led to the kitchen. Balthasar went out to the wagons to fetch Rose; Marlowe and Hern waited for Helene. It seemed only polite to be escorted by the lady of the house.

‘Master Marlowe,’ Hern said. ‘We must have a talk, you and I, before we go much further.’

‘Why?’ Marlowe said. ‘I thought my purse was all the conversation we needed.’

‘I have been thinking things through. You are a man with a mission; I see it in your eyes. I don’t want that, whatever it is, to bring trouble to us.’

‘The trouble, if it comes, will come but singly,’ Marlowe said. ‘You and your troupe will not be dragged into it. I have . . . friends.’

Hern looked dubious. ‘What friends are they?’

‘If I told you, then they would be of no use to me, would they?’ Marlowe told him. ‘They are the kind of friends who lose their power if everyone knows them. Don’t worry, Hern. It will all be well.’

A soft footfall behind him made him turn.

‘Helene,’ he said, ‘you made me jump.’

‘I’m sorry, Master Marlowe,’ she said. ‘I am naturally very light on my feet. Come, let me take you to John’s room. We can choose the most comfortable chairs. And I have this bottle of brandy here.’ She raised it to show them, a cobweb clinging to the side. ‘I am no expert, but Gregory Leslie had hidden it well, so I think it will be of some quality.’ She took Marlowe’s arm and led the way, but he could feel her trembling. ‘Mind the wet patch at the foot of the stairs,’ she said over her shoulder to Hern. ‘Oh, too late. There is a cloth over in the corner there. Cook hung it over that statue. It gave her . . . ideas.’

Hern half hopped over to the dark space under the stairs and whipped the cloth from the statue. It had been hiding a very obvious attribute and he thought he could see a theme developing. The cook was clearly mad; Dee was rather soft in the head, whatever the Queen may think; the manservant was obviously simple. The brains in this house belonged to Helene, without a doubt. A beautiful and very accomplished woman. No wonder Edward Kelly had come back, like a pigeon to its nest.

While he blotted the blood from the sole of his shoe, a small door opened behind the stair. A blast of cold, musty air which came with it suggested cellars, long unused. Simon the strongman slid along the wall where the shadows were longest and slipped out of the front door without a word. Hern did not call out although a quiet word with the man later would be more than necessary. This was not a house in which to be caught out in clandestine behaviour. He waited in the shadows and after a few minutes, the door opened and shut again, but this time the shadow was a woman, one that Hern did not know. With her head down, she also made for the door and was soon gone. Hern sighed. Yes, a word would certainly be necessary in the morning.

‘Gentlemen and ladies,’ Dee said, looking around his fireside. ‘I am so glad to have you all here, old friends –’ he smiled at Marlowe – ‘and new, I hope. I am anxious to learn from you but first I would like to demonstrate my small skill. Helene has told me that she is somewhat tired and I don’t want to keep her up longer than I need.’

It was true that Helene Dee did not look at all well. She was pale and quiet but she smiled at her husband and then at her guests. ‘Today has been quite tiring, yes,’ she said. ‘A lot to take in. So, if you don’t mind . . .’

Rose leaned towards her from where she sat on a short bench, next to Balthasar and whispered in her ear. Helene flushed a little, but shook her head. The men looked away, as men will when women whisper.

Dee looked a little askance and then cleared his throat. ‘May I ask Master Marlowe if he will help me?’ he said.

Marlowe looked at him nervously. He knew this man and the kind of thing he liked to do. If demons were involved – and knowing Dee, there would be at least the hint of a demon somewhere – then he was not sure his doubts were strong enough to defend him. Dee read his mind.

‘No demons, Kit. But I think you will find it interesting.’ He held out his hand and pushed a bench back from the fire to clear a space. ‘Will you help? Helene will be here. And as you know, I would have no harm come to her.’

Marlowe stepped forward reluctantly and stood side by side with the beauty and faced Dee.

‘As you can see,’ Dee said to Hern, Balthasar and Rose, ‘Master Marlowe and my wife are much the same size, although I would estimate that Master Marlowe weighs an ounce or two more. But I can make my wife weigh nothing so that she will float to the ceiling. And I can make Master Marlowe weigh so much he will not be able to move a limb.’

Hern and Balthasar exchanged looks. ‘I would like to see that,’ Hern said, politely. Rose smiled at Helene and sat back to watch.

Dee turned Helene and Marlowe so that they faced each other and joined their hands. They were almost the same height and they stood toe to toe, looking into each other’s eyes. Dee stood behind them, facing his guests. Raising one hand, he pressed down on Marlowe’s shoulder, whilst holding the other hand about six inches above Helene’s head. He spoke in a low whisper and Marlowe was amazed to hear that he was simply reciting the Collects for the Sundays of Lent, in Latin. But somehow, as he identified the words, they seemed to slur together and his view of the world became very limited until all he could see were Helene’s eyes, boring into his.

And something very strange was happening. He was having to look up to look into Helene’s eyes. He was having to tilt his head right back to keep her eyes in his view. She was at the end of a light-filled tunnel, she was far away, she was drifting off, further and further away. He tried to tell her to stay still, but there was something wrong with his mouth. His tongue was stuck to the bottom of it, lodged beneath his teeth and his lips were glued shut. But although he was rather puzzled, he wasn’t frightened. He felt instead as though he was sinking into the floor, which was made for some reason of the softest feather, very warm and comfortable. His eyelids were really heavy, and he could only see Helene now through the slits that his eyes had become. So heavy. So very heavy.

To the watchers, it looked no less impressive. As Dee muttered behind the pair, Helene rose inches and then feet into the air. She floated up to the ceiling and hovered there, her clothes wafting on an unfelt breeze. Marlowe had sunk to the floor and was unable to rise. Even his hair, the locks usually in motion around his face, hung as though lined with lead. His eyelids drooped over his large brown eyes and his bottom lip hung and drooled.

Dee looked up at the Egyptians. ‘Please step forward,’ he said, ‘and try to lift Master Marlowe from the floor. I can guarantee you will be unable to do so. As for my wife, you may walk beneath her if you wish, although gentlemen, I would urge you to respect the fact that she is a married woman and of a chaste disposition.’ He looked closely at Rose. ‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ he said. ‘Did you speak?’

‘A cough,’ she said, ‘nothing more. I apologize, Dr Dee. Do go on.’

‘Erm . . . yes. Please, do come and examine my wife and Master Marlowe.’

Hern walked over to Marlowe and pulled at his arm. Nothing happened; not only did it not wake the man, but Hern could not make the arm move even an inch. He tried the other, with the same result. He picked at a lock of hair, but it was as if the man had been turned to stone. Balthasar was walking around Helene, his head below the level of her feet, which were not dangling as if she were hanging, but flat, as though she stood on a glass floor above him.

‘Can she move?’ he asked Dee.

‘Indeed,’ the old magus replied. ‘My wife is weightless, Balthasar. It is Master Marlowe who weighs as much as the world we stand on.’ He raised his voice. ‘Helene,’ he said. ‘Can you walk towards the window, to show Balthasar that you can move.’

Helene Dee walked across the room, seven feet up in the air, her feet bending and straightening on her invisible floor. Then she turned and came back to her starting place.

Hern and Balthasar felt the hairs stand up on the backs of their necks. They knew some tricks, God knew, but nothing like this. This was breaking all the laws that God had ordained and while they didn’t bother with laws as a general rule there were some, one of which is that women don’t walk on thin air, which they had always tried to obey. They glanced at each other; there was nothing in their repertoire which would impress this man. They had lost the race, without having moved from the starting place.

Dee was almost dancing with pleasure. ‘Well, gentlemen,’ he crowed. ‘Can you tell me how it is done?’

Hern had to admit defeat and Balthasar just shrugged his shoulders. ‘You are a true magus, Dr Dee,’ he said. ‘You have me foxed.’

Suddenly, Rose stood up and walked across to where the men stood. ‘Helene was doing this trick before she met you, John Dee, Queen’s magus,’ she said. ‘Has she told you all her tricks?’ Then she turned to Balthasar. ‘I sought you out because I thought you could truly tell my future, could help me change it to something I wanted it to be. But you are just a man, like all the others. Credulous, fooled by a pretty face. I won’t be coming any further with you, Balthasar, you and your troupe. I saw that in my future, even when you couldn’t. Something is wrong here. Someone has done evil. It can’t be put right.’ She looked up at Helene Dee, who now hung in the air like a rag doll. ‘Something is wrong. Look at her.’

Dee wrung his hands. ‘What is it?’ he cried. ‘Helene? Helene? Come back to me. Wake up!’

‘It’s no good, Dr Dee,’ said Rose. ‘Evil has been done. Helene is dead.’

And as she spoke, the woman, light and air and beauty, turned once as she hung there and fell like a stone into Hern’s arms.