A Short Tale of the Borgias
The Philosophers'
Stone
By August W. Derleth
The lackey at the window inclined his head toward Messer Orsini, who sat fidgeting nervously at the high oaken table near the center of the room.
"The three come, Excellency."
Messer, the Duke Ercola di Orsini, turned and rose, and walked swiftly to the window. The lackey pulled aside the heavy, velvet hangings. Three men were walking on the drawbridge of his castle. The duke made a sign; the hangings dropped.
"It is well. Admit them at once to this room."
The lackey departed. Messer Orsini meditatively donned a mask, then seated himself to await the three. He had not long to wait.
The three came into the room, bowing servilely.
"You have brought it?" came from the masked Orsini.
"We have, Messer."
"Let me see it."
One of the three men drew a long glass phial from his doublet. In the bottom of the glass gleamed a jewel. Messer Orsini repressed an exclamation.
"The philosophers' stone, as you commanded, Messer."
"Of what portent is the scroll above the stone?"
"It is a formula of death, Messer."
The Duke di Orsini threw a pouch of gold upon the table. One of the three seized it. The duke spoke again.
"There is to be no word of this in outer circles."
"It shall be as you say, Messer. Our instructions were to warn you not to open the phial before the hour of midnight; seven glasses of sand hence."
"They shall be obeyed. But carry back this warning: If the stone is not true, you die in company with your master."
"We are at your command, at your mercy, if the stone fails to perform its duty."
The curtains swished behind the three. At once Messer Orsini struck a gong. A lackey appeared.
"Seize and bind the three men who are leaving my abode. Cast them into the dungeons until further word from me is received."
The lackey disappeared. As if summoned by magic another came to take his place.
"Messer, a runner from Rome awaits your pleasure."
"From Rome?"
"Yes, Excellency."
"Bring him to me."
The lackey departed as silently as he had come. In a trice the runner stood before the Duke di Orsini. He bowed low. With a quick motion he opened an amulet about his neck and drew from it a piece of folded paper, which he threw to the table before him. The duke grasped it and read:
"Be armed; prepare to attack the Bull.
At once the duke struck his gong, and as before, a lackey appeared.
"Ring the alarum bell."
