Edward Marston - The Fair Maid of Bohemia

‘We may never find out,’ said Caspar sadly. ‘No visitors are permitted down here. Even I could not worm that concession out of the Emperor. There is no means by which this Nicholas Bracewell can reach you. Whatever message he carried to Prague will have to return to England with him.’

***

‘Importune me no further,’ said the Chamberlain. ‘What you ask of me is not in my power to grant.’

‘You have the ear of the Emperor,’ urged Firethorn.

‘It is deaf to my entreaties.’

‘This is very important to us.’

‘I am not able to help you.’

‘But you are the Chamberlain.’

‘Yes,’ replied the other, rising to his feet with dignity. ‘I am responsible for the government of Bohemia. I help to raise taxes, draft new laws and keep the peace in this kingdom. I summon the Bohemian Diet, I hold a respected place at any Diet of the Empire and have a strong voice in its affairs. Yes, Master Firethorn,’ he said with a touch of exasperation. ‘I am the Chamberlain and I enjoy all the powers of that high office. But I can still not authorise you to visit a prisoner in the castle dungeon.’

He slowly resumed his seat behind the desk. Nicholas and Firethorn were in his apartment again, trying to gain access to Talbot Royden without disclosing their reasons for wishing to do so. They had sent Owen Elias back to the Black Eagle with orders to say nothing of the attack on Nicholas. The latter’s wound was attracting an offhand interest from their host. The Chamberlain was no more helpful than on their previous visit. Nicholas tried to appease him.

‘We are sorry to disturb you again on this matter.’

‘It is out of my hands, Master Bracewell.’

‘Now that you have explained it to us, we understand that. Why should a man in your exalted position bother with a mere prisoner? You have far more weighty matters to consider. I know little of Prague but I could not fail to notice so many churches.’ He watched the other carefully. ‘And so many different denominations.’

‘It creates many problems,’ admitted the Chamberlain.

‘It must,’ continued Nicholas. ‘We know full well how bitter religious dissension can be. England is a Protestant nation now but only after much bloodshed. The troubles have not ceased. Unrest still simmers.’

‘Your difficulties are small compared with ours.’

‘I disagree,’ said Firethorn. ‘London is beset by crawling Puritans. They are trying to close the theatres. What would become of us then? Puritans are a menace!’

‘We have our share of menaces here.’

‘Yet Bohemia is more tolerant,’ observed Nicholas.

‘That is the Emperor’s wish,’ sighed the other.

‘You have Roman Catholic churches, Lutheran, Calvinist and others whose names I do not recognise. Prague also has a Jewish Quarter. The Josefov.’

‘The Emperor has granted Jews many privileges.’

‘Freedom of belief is a fine ideal.’

‘Yes,’ said the Chamberlain. ‘But, like most fine ideals, it does not work in practice. We have too many faiths here, too much latitude. Everything from Jesuits at one extreme to Hussites at the other.’

‘Hussites?’ repeated Firethorn.

‘Yet another of our problems.’ He stared at the bandage around Nicholas’s head, then became brisk. ‘But you did not come here to discuss the religious policy which we pursue. You have a request. I must turn it down.’

‘Is there nothing you can do for us?’

‘On this matter, alas-no.’

‘All we ask is that you speak to the Emperor.’

‘He would not even listen to me.’

‘Why not?’

‘That is irrelevant.’ The Chamberlain lifted the bell. ‘I will ring for someone to show you out.’

‘Is there nobody who can help us?’ implored Firethorn.

‘Nobody at all.’

‘You are wrong, sir,’ said Nicholas, as a face popped into his mind. ‘I believe that there is.’

***

Sophia Magdalena walked into the gallery on the arm of her great-uncle. Emperor Rudolph had always been fond of her and he would be sad to lose her when marriage took her north to Brunswick. While she was still at the palace, he wanted her to be present at the little ceremony which was about to take place. The Milanese painter was waiting for them beside his easel. An embroidered cloth hid the completed portrait. He was presented to Sophia Magdalena and studied her beautiful face with the concentrated admiration of an artist. He turned to the Emperor and spoke in Italian.

‘Such loveliness belongs upon a canvas,’ he said.

‘One day I will let you paint her portrait.’

‘Thank you!’

‘If Sophia Magdalena agrees.’

‘That goes without saying.’

‘But she has come to see the portrait of me unveiled.’ He lapsed into German. ‘Are you ready, my dear?’

‘Yes,’ she said, hands held tight. ‘I am very excited.’

‘I hope that you like it.’

‘I’m sure that I shall.’

‘Then let us bring the portrait into the light of day.’

The Emperor inclined his head and the artist lifted the cloth from the gilt frame, standing back to give both of them an uninterrupted view of his work. Rudolph giggled with delight and clapped his hands, but Sophia Magdalena took more time to appreciate the painting. Expecting to see her great-uncle staring back at her with an imperious gaze, she was disconcerted to find herself looking at a face that was composed entirely of pieces of fruit.

The nose was a banana, the eyes were grapes, the cheeks were apples, the chin was an orange. Eight other fruits were cleverly incorporated into the portrait. Shocked at first, she came to see that there was a definite resemblance to Rudolph. The symbolic significance of the painting also began to emerge. A ruler of a vast empire was an emblem of nature, a source of health and sustenance to his peoples. Some of the fruits used were imported from other countries, a visual reference to the cosmopolitan nature of the Bohemian Court. And there were many other values in a portrait which had the most striking colours and definition.

The two men waited patiently until her smile of approval came. While the Emperor embraced her, the artist sighed with relief. Her ratification was vital to him and to his employer. Sophia Magdalena began to enthuse about the work and the artist begged the Emperor to translate for him. The praise was soon cut short. A liveried servant came into the room and bowed before delivering his message.

‘Someone is asking to speak with Sophia Magdalena on a matter of great urgency,’ he said. ‘He waits without.’

‘Who is the man?’ asked Rudolph.

‘Lawrence Firethorn.’

‘The actor? No, tell him that she is indisposed.’

‘But I wish to see him,’ she said. ‘He and his company have given me so much pleasure. I will not turn him away.’

‘What about my portrait?’

‘I will come back to view it again very soon.’

Rudolph flicked a finger and the artist replaced the cloth over the painting. The servant led the way along a corridor until they came to the hall where Westfield’s Men had performed The Three Sisters of Mantua . With the stage still erected, Firethorn could not resist strutting around it and declaiming some verse. Nicholas rested against the edge of the platform. As soon as Sophia Magdalena appeared, both men moved across to meet her and the Emperor. She was taken aback by the sight of the bandage around Nicholas’s head. The exchange of greetings was complicated by her ignorance of their language. Rudolph was pressed into service as an impromptu interpreter.

‘What is this matter of such urgency?’ he asked.

‘We need to see Doctor Talbot Royden,’ said Nicholas.

‘Out of the question!’