The Malacia Tapestry

In the circumstances, the Ottomans could not weigh down my heart or my considerations by a denario’s worth.

One evening, when a Turkish spy was caught in the main square and had his neck extended by a good half-metre before Fetter Place, I went with de Lambant to visit Otto Bengtsohn and inquire how the mercurisation was progressing. Such was his secretiveness that, as yet, he had shown nobody his results.

‘How appropriate that you should be immortalised on glass.’ said de Lambant. ‘You are such a transparent character, my friend.’

I had paid for the wine that evening. ‘Then we must see that you are posted to posterity on skin and flint,’ I said.

We went in through the court by the sign of the Dark Eye and into the workshop, where Bonihatch and other assistants were still at work, or bowed over their painting desks pretending to work. Slapping the erstwhile Prince Mendicula on his back, I led the way into the gallery which at this hour was closed to the public.

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