Paul Dowswell - The Cabinet of Curiosities: EPub EBook Edition

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About the Author

Paul Dowswell is a former researcher and editor. Published in the UK and internationally, he has written over sixty books and has twice been shortlisted for the Blue Peter Book Award. Paul lives in Wolverhampton with his family.

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Acknowledgements

Many thanks to Ele Fountain at Bloomsbury for her patient moulding of the story, Talya Baker and Margaret Histed for their sterling edits, and Dilys Dowswell for wading through the first drafts. Their advice is much appreciated. Kate Clarke and The Parish produced the evocative cover.

Thanks also to Jenny and Josie Dowswell and Charlie Viney for looking after me; Sally Hoban and Christine Whitney for lending me two beautiful books; Adam Guy, Jeremy Lavender and John Dowswell for their sound advice, and Ben and Jana Anderson, and Nina Jelnikova of Prague Tours, for making me so welcome in Prague.

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Also by Paul Dowswell

Auslnder

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The Adventures of Sam Witchall in reading order:

Powder Monkey

Prison Ship

Battle Fleet

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Chapter One

January 1598

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Lukas Declercq struggled to wake from a deep sleep. There was a heavy weight on his chest and shoulders and a pain at his throat.

At first he thought he was sickening with Grippe or Lung Fever. Then a grating voice hissed in his ear, Thats right, my fine fellow, open those eyes.

Lukas could smell putrid breath an unholy mixture of rotting teeth, garlic and alcohol. He tensed, waiting for the sharp jab of a dagger in his neck.

The man spoke again. Give me your money belt, and your clothes, and your sword, and I might spare your life. Any funny business and Ill slit your throat.

Lukas, wide awake now, could see the grotesque warty face of his tormentor. The man straddled him, a knee on each shoulder. One hand held a knife to his throat, in the other was a lantern. The index finger of both hands had been cut off to ugly stumps a common punishment for poaching.

He had a weaselly face and a sickly pallor. For an instant Lukas wondered whether to try to shove him off. He was quite tall for his age and his voice had started to deepen. He might be able to beat a man like that in a fight. But then, he was still as thin as a rake. Besides, he could hear other hostile voices. Intuition told him to do as he was told.

Quick, before I lose my temper, hissed the man.

It was so cold in the stable Lukas could see his breath in the dim lantern light.

Move off me then, he said and was instantly afraid he had spoken too sharply.

But the man could see the logic in that and sprang up suddenly, quick as a hare. Clothes all of them, he growled.

But its freezing, pleaded Lukas.

The man jabbed him in the arm with his knife leaving a shallow cut no longer than a thumbnail. Clothes, he repeated.

Lukas stripped, noticing the blood from his arm was splattering the white tunic he was struggling to remove.

Breeches, said the man. Stockings.

Lukas was now stark naked and for a moment he wondered if this man and his accomplices meant to do worse to him than kill him. But the man grabbed his clothes, blanket, money bag and sword and disappeared into the night.

Lukas felt the blood hot against his cold skin. His body was covered in goose pimples and he began to shiver. With the robbers gone, he felt sick with fear and swallowed hard to keep down that evenings stew and dumplings.

The chiming of the monastery clock broke the silence to summon the monks to prayer. Lukas glanced at the night sky. It was still dark outside, with only a glimmer of light on the eastern horizon. He guessed that dawn was still an hour away.

Another voice spoke. If we dont find some clothes in the next few minutes, well freeze to death. It was the dark-haired French boy who was a little older than him one of the passengers in the wagon who had joined them the day before. He too had been robbed of everything he owned.

They had not spoken much. The boys name was Etienne Lambert. Lukas knew that much. He had keen eyes and a sharp face. But unlike the other travellers, who would while away the journey in conversation, he said very little, though he listened intently to everyone else. Lukas didnt like him.

What about the others? said Lukas. A German man and his wife had also been sleeping in the stable at the monastery, as the wagon had more passengers than the local inn, in the village of Momalle, could hold.

Etienne called their names softly. Herr Koberger! Frau Koberger! but there was no reply. They had chosen a separate stall and, although Lukas and Etienne peered through the gloom, the moonless night made it too dark to do anything other than blunder around. Lukas tripped over a coil of rope and fell, landing heavily on his face. He cursed and said, Maybe theyve gone for help, or maybe the thieves took them hostage.

By now both of them were shivering uncontrollably. They glanced fearfully out of the stable door, listening hard. Once satisfied their assailants had left, they ran towards the cloisters, hoping to catch one of the monks on his way to prayer. But the eerie sound of plainsong already filled the night air. Cold as the boys were, neither of them felt they could interrupt the monasterys sacred service by wandering naked into the nave.

Theres a storeroom next to the buttery, said Etienne. I saw one of the monks take a habit from there when we arrived.

They tried the small wooden door. It creaked open and even in the dimmest light Lukas could see how ramshackle it was, rotten and almost falling off its hinges.

There were no windows to the room and inside was pitch black, so they felt with their hands. I think Ive got one, said Etienne. Lukas heard muffled noises as he tried it on. Too small, he heard, and then felt it hit him as the French boy tossed it over. Try that.

Lukas pulled the scratchy woollen garment over his head. Well need two of these each, at least, he said. Otherwise well freeze our stones off. He could feel the chilly air gusting around his legs.

Never mind that, said Etienne brusquely. Look for some footwear.

Lukas felt on the floor with his hands and then banged his forehead on the sharp corner of a wooden cabinet. Blood trickled down the side of his face. Biting his lip to stop himself crying out, he lifted the lid and felt inside. His hand brushed against the rough leather of some sandals and he scrabbled through them, trying to find a pair that fitted.

Clad in two habits, Lukas warmed up enough to stop shaking. We must find one of the monks, tell them whats happened, he said.

Etienne shook his head. No. The service will go on for at least an hour. Lets get back to the stable and wait there until daybreak. Then well tell them.

As they neared the entrance they heard low, angry voices. Theyre not here. You should have slit their throats. If they recognise us, well all be for the wheel.

Lukas and Etienne froze in their tracks and crept silently back to the cloisters. They saw four dark shadows emerge from the stable, each clutching a knife. The figures began to walk warily in their direction.

Halfway across the courtyard one of them whispered, We cant go searching a whole monastery. Then he turned and punched the man next to him so hard in the chest he fell to the ground. Next time, do a proper job, he snarled. Another dark shape hauled the whimpering man to his feet and they hurried away.

Im not going in there now, said Lukas.

Etienne nodded. They might carry on arguing and come back.

I wonder what happened to the German couple, said Lukas quietly. He had travelled several days with them and had grown to like them. Kobergers cabinet-making business had been thriving, and now he and his wife were taking time off to visit their family back home. She had teased Lukas about his looks, telling him he was a beautiful boy like an angel who deserved to be painted by one of the Italian masters.