Free Tamburlaine Must Die by Louise Welsh Page B

impatiently.

    `Your
ignorance shines like phosphor. How could I make you immortal? I said
he offers you immortality - Raleigh. He wants an alliance. If you
promise not to sign this affidavit, he pledges not to dispatch you.
He can't banish your enemies, but he reveres your talent. Raleigh
promises not to pursue you if you make a pact. He also undertakes
that should you die, he'll ensure your writings live beyond your
death, beyond these troubled times and into the future.'

    `Raleigh
makes a promise he can't deliver. My work will die with me.'

    `No.
For a while it may seem lost, but there are always men who recognise
worth. We will keep your flame alive with them and when the time is`
right sow the seeds of your renaissance. I guarantee that if you
spare Raleigh, even if it be your death, men will know of the genius
of Christopher Marlowe. Four hundred years hence and beyond they will
perform your plays and write your story. Surely,' Dee smiled kindly,
`that is the only immortality you would acknowledge?'

    Night
was fading by the time I left Dee, but the river looked no better by
dawn's light. I wondered

what
kind of a death drowning would be, thought of Raleigh and remembered
his talk of voyages to the New World.

    One
evening when pipe smoke had mellowed our talk from science into
reminiscence, he'd told me how the green bloated body of a stranger
had once rushed from the deep, fallen from some other vessel he
supposed, though he had thought his ship the only one to reach these
uncharted waters. The body had bobbed on the surf, riding the tide as
round and as buoyant as an inflated bladder. The captain had ordered
the crew to drown the cursed man again. But sailors are
superstitious, they'd claimed it an augur of the future and defied
him to the point of mutiny. The captain had retreated and the drowned
man trailed them half a day, caught in the ship's swell, banging
against the hull with the even thud of an undertaker's hammer until
they lost him somewhere in the terror-stricken night.

    I'd
asked Dee if he had any knowledge of Tamburlaine. He'd stared into
the distance.

    `If
Kelly were here, he could skry for us. I've no doubt he might find
the identity of your foe in the crystals.'

    I'd
shaken my head.

    `I
trust your wisdom more than his. I've told you all I know, what does
it make you think?? 'This person tries to write in your fashion?

    The
style of the note was yours you say?? 'Inferior to mine, but with the
same rhythm, he talked of my plays.'

    Dee
had smiled.

    `You're
vain even in extremis.'

    Then
he'd laid his hands on the table and raised his face upwards. Dee's
mouth took on a serious set and his eyes lost their focus. The
candles flickered. Shadows hung in the hollows of his face, and I
felt I could see the skull beneath the skin as white as any death
mask. We sat for a moment in silence, then he began to speak in his
soft voice, his Welsh accent more pronounced than before, hesitating
now and then as he grasped for words.

    `The
person who wrote this libel admires you even as he sets in motion
wheels that may kill you ... He cloaks himself in the identity of
your creation, as near to being you as he can get ... He would rather
make himself Marlowe, but while Marlowe lives he will settle on the
most ruthless of your heroes. Or perhaps the one he thinks most like
you ... There is jealousy and love in this mix. Your enemy
Tamburlaine is a man who wishes to be you and yet wishes to kill you
... and so invites his own death.'

    `Tell
me his name,' I'd commanded.

    Dee
had started from his trance, alert and rested.

    `How
can I? His tone was sharp. `Only you and he can know who Tamburlaine
is.'

    And
all at once I realised I might. Blind Grizzle's was dark, veiled in
shadow and as silent as the charnel chapel. I called his name as I
entered, expecting Hector's growl to echo my greeting, but the only
sound was a soft tinkling from the bells that strung the ceiling. I
wandered through the bookshelves, past