John remembered that night clearly. It stayed with him for fifteen years. He remembered that he stood by the window of his room, with his arms wrapped around his torso to hold off the odd chill that descended on the village on the French-Italian border. It was biting and held little to no care for those doomed to sleep outside of shelter.

  John’s mouth bit on a long smoking pipe with dry herbs that he bartered for at a market. He sucked in the smoke and allowed the fragrant vapours to dwell in his lungs until he allowed their escape towards the ceiling of the double bed chamber that he rented out. He watched the moon starting its slow ascent towards its rightful place. He thought of home. He thought of his daughter.

  He was getting old and he was tired. Tired of travel, tired of undelivered promises and tired of managing Edward.

  Edward had approached John six years prior to this European excursion. He came to John and begged for John to take him in as his assistant and later, as his partner. He claimed to have the ability to converse with the celestials. John appraised the young man. He was of average height average build and dull brown hair. His face was forgetful and did not hold much countenance of pride, strength or will. He was a face in a crowds of nameless men and women. But his skill to speak with the divine and his uncanny knowledge of such worlds gave the Magus pause in denying his request.

  John could not fool himself. After the tragedy that befell his library, John was somewhat eager to return to Europe to replenish his collection of magic texts and possibly discover newer ones. He was in need of adventure and knowledge. And perhaps this Edward Kelley could provide him with what he needed. So, John accepted Edward with good graces and brought him into his confidence.

  Soon afterwards, they had set off and John was pleased with his decision. Edward was a keen learner and proved his with many times.

  But the journey was not as smooth and easy as John had hoped for. Edward, for all his skills in conversation with divine and meagre peoples, was wrapped in his sinful indulgences for wine, women and money. Edward was a habitual drunk and his fiery temper would be raised in accordance with his intoxication.

  John had heard of Edward performing predictions and interpretations for profit, preying on the masses’ superstition and fears. And when a person would disagree with him due to his calculations, Edward would bully that agitator brutally with words or soundly beat him with his fists. John had asked Edward to cease these performances, but Edward reasoned that they were a way to finance their travels. And so John watched Edward routinely bastardise their craft.

  On various occasions during lunch and supper, John would sit in silence and watch an intoxicated Edward rant and rave about the injustices of the world. Of how the rich grew richer whilst the poor (in which he would point at himself) became poorer. He cursed the Church for their hypocrisy. He despised the monarchy for their indolence. He disregarded the foolish notions of free will and proclaimed that all people should act as one nation for a singular goal. For what goal and for what reason, Edward would never tell. He would be either too drunk or too irate for give a clear answer. These illogical rants would continue until John attempted to stop him.

  Edward would drunkenly threaten anyone to challenge his beliefs.

  He declared to John that they are two of the chosen who would lead the world into the new age and they must spread the word of the new God to the masses to rally them. To make them rise up against their masters. Because of Edward’s constant acts of debauchery, John had grown more fatigued as the years went own.

  John had lost count of the times he had spent coin to rescue the foolish Edward from troubles with the law or debts long standing with irate persons in operatically every town or hamlet.

  John sucked in his pipe and turned to the table where a pile of dusty books lay. He stood by the books and ran his fingers over them with a smile. Such was his despair that this provided him with the only source of happiness.

  At the very least, John had some success in finding several books that resembled or agreed with his Hermetic ideas of the universe and was reassured that such knowledge would not go unnoticed. He was proud of that and took some comfort that the arduous trip he had suffered was not in complete vain.

  But during the afternoon, when Edward returned and saw the books in their chambers, He flew into an irrational rage. He flatly denounced the works and disparaged the thought that John would waste his efforts of such works that were better suited to kindling. He claimed that the works were the acts of plagiarists and stated that he would have nothing to do with thieves. He quoted Henry Agrippa in this rant and stormed out.

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  This gave John pause. Why had Edward quoted Agrippa’s words to make his point? Why couldn't he just say his own? And why did it sound so familiar to John? In fact, in all the times he performed his works with Edward, John could have sworn that the rituals struck him as familiar as… as…

  A pit of coldness began to fill his stomach. John’s eyes switched to Edward’s belongings. They were three cloth bags, piled onto top of one another with no real care in the corner of the room. John stubbed out his pipe and headed on over to the bags.

  He opened them up and threw through Edward’s effects. John lifted out muddy clothes, coin, empty bottles and tools used for their scrying sessions. He continued his ever frantic search until he stopped dead when his eyes locked onto an object wrapped in grey cloth. John lifted the wrapped item from the refuse of Edward’s life and placed it on his bed.

  Gingerly, he lifted the cloth away from the object. He prayed that his suspicion was unfounded. Hs prayed that it could not be what he had feared it was… He unwrapped the object and his coldness tore into his bowels. He sat back on the bed and stared.

  Lying before him were two infamous and familiar books: the first and third volumes of Henry Cornelius Agrippa’s ‘De Occulta Philosophia’.

  Edward had been using Agrippa’s work and had blatantly passed it off as his own. He had lied to John’s face for six long and now pointless years.

  And what was worse? John knew of the volumes intimately. He knew of the imperfections on their covers, along their spines and on the pages within. He had studied them in his home at Mortlake. He knew every inch of the books because these two particular books had once belonged to him. Edward must have taken them from his library.

  In fact, John realised as his world came crashing down on him, Kelley must have stolen them from his library the very day that it was pillaged. And when did Kelley come to John? That very same year, in the very same month. “Bastard.” John growled. He had been fooled once again.

  Edward returned an hour later grinning from ear to ear. He stumbled into the chambers and whipped his head around for John. He found John seated at the table, pouring over his books with a chalice of wine beside him. A jug of the drink sat on the other side of the table with an empty chalice. Edward trotted over, slapped John on the back with a hearty laugh and took up the empty chalice and wine without asking John if he could drink it. John had expected such rude behaviour.

  “Dear John.” he said as he poured and split his drink. “I must tell you that our journey has been an eventful and fruitful venture- I think that we have learnt so much in the last six years. I’d say! Yes!”

  Edward dropped his rear onto his bed with a thump. “Oops! Haha! I drink to you!” He lifted the cup and drank down the contents with the manner of a guzzling fish. He slapped off the wine from around his mouth and gasped out a content sigh.

  “Women love knowledge, John. I have come to realise that, oh most certainly. They shall clamour to hear what one has to say to their doe-like ears. They do peck at you with their little red beaks to lavish them so with what you have learned. They brush up against you with their feathered bosoms to be granted with our attention… Oh… the life of a gifted man is wondrous. Men would pay us dividends to tell them their fortunes. Oh, what can one like us be able to achieve? But I say, one must be careful to not put too much into such efforts. One must keep a reserve for future occasions…”

  “I see. How wise of you…” John replied quietly.

  “Hmm… yes. Yes… indeed.” Edward yawned and lay down on his bed. He balanced himself precariously.

  “Kelley. I know.” John announced.

  “Hmm? Know what, friend?”

  “That you lied.” John turned his head and slowly rose from his chair.

  Edward’s eyes flashed open.“W-What? Lied? To you? John. Never. Never. What would I lie about?”

  “I found the books. I found my books.” John crossed the room slowly and stopped by Edward’s bed. He looked down at Edward. “You stole from me.”

  “John- I cannot believe that you would-”

  “You have been stealing from me for years.”

  Edward turned his head towards the door and made to thrown himself from the bed. But his eyes widened. He couldn’t. He was stuck. His arms and legs twitched, but no more than that. His chalice spilt and the wine stained his chest and bed.

  “John- I cannot move. What is happening-?”

  John lifted the spilt chalice from Edward’s bed. He had expected Edward’s rude behaviour. In fact, he had counted on it.

  “The wonders of nature, Edward. We take the world around us for granted so many times. But there are so many powers to be found and utilised in many ways. Like the corn-cockle plant. Are you familiar with it? You should be. You have drunk a good amount of its poison.”

  Edward opened his mouth but his breath was caught in his mouth. His eyes stung and his body twitched violently.

  John placed the chalice on the table and sat by Edward. He then reached for the pillow under Edward’s head and pulled it away from his head. Edward lay there, eyes staring up John. He was pleading with his eyes for his mouth couldn't move. He was struggling to breathe now.

  John stared back at Edward and the last thing Edward would see was John placing the pillow over his face.

  “Begone from my life, demon.”

  John tightened his grip and pressed down onto Edward’s mouth and nose. He stood up and leant down hard onto his liar, his Judas, and smothered the wretched life from him.

  Edward’s body jerked and flailed about, but with the poison already destroying his nerves, the movements were no more than jerks. After a minute of exertion, a sweat-covered John stepped back with his pillow in hand. He stared down at the dead man in his bed.

  And John felt nothing. The traitor was dead. And he was avenged.

  John dropped the pillow and began to pack away his rightful belongings. It was time that he went back home and put his work back where they belonged.