been placed before the fire and spread with a sumptuous meal, but laid only for one. The heavyset man stood upon our entry and took my hand in both of his. “I am Nicolas von Poppelau, and I am so pleased to meet you,” he said, “so very pleased! Rózsa has talked of nothing but Marlowe for days! You have made her very happy.” I felt as if the floor had given a sudden lurch. What did these people want? Did he know of last night’s debauch? Did he expect me to marry her? I could barely support myself, let alone a wife, even if I’d wanted one, and anyway, they were obviously quality . . . I shook my head to clear it and von Poppelau laughed. “Your thoughts flicker across your face as plain as print, my boy! No, pardon me for laughing, it was not at you; sit and eat and I will try to answer some of your questions.”
“But do you not dine?” I asked, indicating the solitary place.
“No, no. It is our habit never to take solid food after sunset,” von Poppelau answered. “But we will join you in some wine.” Ashe poured; I studied my host’s face. It was broad and pleasant, the eyes deep-set and shrewd, the mouth wide and friendly, set under a prominent nose and over a firm chin. I found myself liking the fair-haired man and started to relax a little. The meat and wine were exceptional and the conversation excellent. The man had a penetrating grasp of political affairs and was most widely read, as was Rózsa, much to my wonderment and delight. My sisters, though sharp enough in the mathematics of money, had never shown the slightest interest in learning to read, and indeed had teased me unmercifully about my own studies.
Rózsa showed me the translations of Catullus she was working on and I promised to bring her my own translations of Ovid’s Elegies. As I reached for the sheaf of papers she extended, she started and caught my hand, turning it to examine the palm. She gave a short exclamation and said something in a language incomprehensible to me. That caused Nicolas to lean over and also stare at my captive palm for a few seconds. He spoke to Rózsa in the same language and she smiled ruefully at me, then put the papers into my hands with an apology for the rudeness.
“But what was that about?” I pressed them, laying the papers aside. Rózsa, obviously discomfited, looked to Nicolas, who considered a moment then spoke.
“You know of the theories of physiognomy? That a man’s character may be read in his face? Yes, well, there is a like school of thought that the lines in the hand will reveal much about a person.” He took my hand, turning the palm to the light. “You see here, this line indicates your emotions: you area person who loves greatly, passionately, but you are prideful and given to jealousy. This line shows that you are creative, but rash and reckless, withal. This cross here below your little finger is the mark of the writer, and here, this circle just below the ring finger, that foretells a brilliant success. Just something we have been studying, you see.” Rózsa began to speak then, but Nicolas gave a slight shake of his head and she fell silent.
They kept my cup filled and we talked for hours discussing astronomy, philosophy, and religions. “What is any church, save a business?” I found myself saying emphatically. “The priests call themselves shepherds, do they not? Well then, what is a shepherd’s business, but to fleece the flock in order to increase the wealth and importance of his masters? And here is Rome, the greatest wolf in shepherd’s array that the suffering world has ever seen, gobbling up the globe like a pig at trough, and for what? To save the savage souls? Hah! They’d not have nearly the interest in those souls if the bodies containing them came less often clothed in gold!”
“Do you find the Protestant church superior?” Nicolas asked with interest.
“I do not!” I said emphatically. “Old King Hal let Rome go, but not far enough! What, in the name of reason, can you expect from enforced celibacy, but secret vice?” I found myself telling them what I had told no one in all these years, of my own experience with the church, and with “celibate” churchmen.