Chapter One
Amsterdam, 29 October, Anno 1628.
I stand alone on the spice wharf and inhale the cinnamon salt-sweet fragrance
that lingers still. Once again I check my papers. All in order, no detail gone
unnoticed. Tutt did well. I admire his meticulous work in forging the Company
seal on my accommodation pass to the officers' cabins. At last it is final.
Strange that Torrentius — my mentor and only friend — being an acclaimed
Hollander miniaturist, was offered temporary refuge at the court of King
Charles, whereas for certain beliefs of mine, I have to scuttle underground like
a rat, board the ship Batavia, and adopt the crisp, moneyed manners of
Dutch East India merchants bound on a five-month voyage to the Indias.
I'm no mariner. I can't even swim. I fear death by drowning, the cold touch of
water on my skin. I, Jeronimus, am a man of phials, a measurer of powders on
bronze scales, a potion brewer, an opium and arsenic merchant. The primped and
perfumed Amsterdam burghers came to me in droves requiring cures for fevers,
love balms, the miscarriage of a bastard child, and, of course, poisons. Ah,
poisons. And there are many. Dusting an ostrich f ... read full excerpt from: The Company: The Story of a Murderer ebook
