it you wanted to speak to me about, Victor?” she asked, closing the door. She should have called me young master,but she had raised me from a yowling whelp, and it would have felt odd to be called master by her.
“I am very worried about Konrad,” I began cautiously.
She nodded, and I was not surprised to see her eyes moisten.
“I worry that the doctors do not know how to cure him,” I said, watching her, “and I wonder if perhaps there are healers with different skills who might be more successful.”
She said nothing, but her eyes would not meet mine.
“Do you know of any such people, Maria?”
She took a breath. “I do not.”
I sat back, discouraged, and tried to think of another subtle line of questioning, but couldn’t.
“But I heard you talking to Mother,” I blurted out, “about some fellow you know of, an alchemist.”
“You little villain! Eavesdropping!” she said, and I suddenly felt five years old again and caught out at some mischief.
“Who was it you were talking about?” I persisted.
“I promised your mother I would not speak of it.”
“To Father,” I said. “She asked you not to speak of it to
Father.
But you can tell
me,
Maria.”
She glared at me, then looked away. “You must promise me you will not speak of this to your parents,” she said. “And I do this only because I am so worried about your brother.”
“Of course,” I said.
“I put little faith in these doctors. Some cannot even cut hair straight, much less deliver a baby without killing the mother.” She sighed. “There was an incident a good many years ago; you and Konrad were just newborns. One of the city’s generals had a daughter, no more than six, who sickened suddenly. The general spared no expense. He summoned the finest physicians ofEurope. All of them said the girl was beyond hope and would die before the winter was through. But the girl’s mother could not bear the thought, and sought out an apothecary right here in Geneva. Some said he was a gifted healer. Some said he was an alchemist. Some said he trafficked with the devil. But the mother did not care about any of that. She went to him and he prepared a medicine, and he saved that little girl.”
Maria’s voice trembled. I took my handkerchief and passed it to her, and counted five seconds while she dabbed her eyes, but I was too impatient to wait any longer.
“His name,” I said urgently. “What was the fellow’s name?”
“Julius Polidori.”
I had never heard of him, which was odd. Geneva, though an important city, was no vast metropolis like Paris or London, and my father’s position made him aware of anyone of prominence.
“And is he still in the city?” I asked Maria.
“I don’t know, Victor. But I think maybe you should find out.”
I smiled at her. “I will. I most surely will.”
Chapter 4
THE ALCHEMIST
T he next morning as Konrad slumbered, Henry, Elizabeth, and I traveled to Geneva with Father in the carriage. Father had business to attend to at the Palais de Justice, and the three of us had convinced him that we should spend the day studying the history of our great republic by exploring its oldest buildings and monuments: St. Peter’s, the Magdalen Church, the town hall. It was to be part of our schooling. Father, of course, was delighted at our keenness, and happy, too, to see us temporarily removed from the chateau and all its gloom.
As we approached Geneva along the south lake road, I admired the high ramparts that surrounded the city in the shape of a protective star. There were only five gated entrances, locked every night at ten o’clock, and the portcullises were not raised until five in the morning. The guards were under the strictest instructions never to deviate from this schedule, even if ordered by the magistrates themselves. Our city had seen many wars and sieges, and these current times, my father often said, were uncertain ones.
We stabled the horses and carriage at our city house, for we
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