The Apothecary's Secret
Page 1
The Apothecary’s
Secret
Johanna Geiges
Contents
Prologue
PART I
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
PART II
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
PART III
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
PART IV
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Glossary
About the Author
Copyright
Dramatis Personae
Anna Ahrweiler
Famula of the Infirmarius
Father Urban
Prior and Infirmarius
Caspar and Gret
Anna’s parents
Gero von Hochstaden
Nephew of the archbishop
Konrad von Hochstaden
Archbishop
Lothar von Hochstaden
Brother of the archbishop, count
Father Sixtus
Close associate of the archbishop, later abbot
Lutz
Gero’s companion
Oswald
Gero’s companion
Aaron
Jewish Medicus
Esther
Sister of the Medicus
Rebecca
Maid
Chassim von Greifenklau
Count
Conrad IV
King, son of Frederick II
Georg von Landskron
Count
Ottgild von Landskron
Countess, sister of Chassim
Castle chaplain
Hunter of heretics and witches
Berbelin
Maid
Brother Thomas
Monk, former Infirmarius
The eight prayer times of the monastic day
(The exact hour depends on the season and region.)
Matins (Vigils)
2 a.m.
Lauds
Between 5 a.m. and 6 a.m.
Prime
Around 7.30 a.m., usually just before light
Terce
Around 9 a.m.
Sext
12 noon
None
Between 2 p.m. and 3 p.m.
Vespers
Around 4.30 p.m.
Compline
Around 6 p.m.
Prologue
The time was shortly before Easter in the year of our Lord 1242.
After a long and harsh winter that did not want to pass, the sun broke through the thick, leaden blanket of cloud that lay over the Rhine for the first time in months. The tremendous waters of the mighty river, no longer hemmed in by the foothills of the Eifel mountains, poured into the vast plain of the Cologne lowlands and rolled on north to where, on the horizon, heaven and earth became one.
A ray of morning sun, like God’s gleaming finger, touched the Petersberg, a peak of the Siebengebirge, where two travellers were admiring the Lord’s creation spread before them in an enormous panorama steaming with mist. The haggard, wiry grey-haired man must have seen more than forty winters. He wore a rough tunic made of drill and, over it, a woollen cloak with warm trousers and heavy, homemade pigskin boots. The woman by his side was of the same age, slight, with careworn features; she, too, had wrapped herself in a woollen cloak, and a heavy bonnet covered her white hair. She must have been a beauty once. The man put his arm around her shoulders and, tenderly, pulled her close as they looked from their high vantage point down into the valley, christened St Peter’s Valley by the Cistercian monks long ago.
Gradually, the mist began to lift, revealing a wide, flat hollow surrounded by hillsides covered in beech forests and farmsteads. Down below lay Maria im Peterstal monastery in Heisterbach – or Heisterbach monastery for short. The cloud cover then broke completely to reveal the still-new monastery complex in all its splendour and majesty. A long, straight avenue of poplars led directly to the main gate, on the archway of which was carved a verse from the Gospel of St John (9.25): ‘One thing I know, that though I was blind, now I see.’
The monastery, enclosed by its walls, must have seemed like a new wonder of the world to the simple folk from the small villages nearby because of its sheer vastness. The cathedral-like abbey church built of grey volcanic stone at the centre of the complex, with its mighty apse facing east, its pointed arched windows and its graceful bell tower, was 280 feet in length, with a transept measuring 140 feet. There was no church in the entire Holy Roman Empire to surpass it in size. Two massive three-storey buildings joined the transept and the western façade of the nave at right angles. One was for the lay brothers and guests, the other for the monks. The quadrangle was complemented and completed by the refectory, the living quarters of the abbot, the bathhouse, the scriptorium and the infirmary. Cloisters connected the buildings and enclosed a courtyard which was adorned by a softly tinkling fountain and low, carefully trimmed hedges. It served the sole purpose of contemplation.
To the west were the fruit and vegetable gardens, the Hortus Botanicus of the infirmarius and the numerous farm buildings: the barns, stables, workshops, mill, bakery and the brewhouse, as well as the wine press house, all bordered by an open beech wood. There, hidden among the trees from which the last few drops of the long night’s rain trickled, a few lonely headstones peeped out. These, along with a small chapel, formed part of the monks’ cemetery.
Half-a-dozen fish ponds, also outside the monastery walls, sparkled like precious stones in the sunlight and added to the overall effect of the monastic complex, which must have appeared to every visitor seeing it for the first time like a foretaste of the heavenly Jerusalem.
Caspar and Gret from Ahrweiler, the couple on Petersberg, started the long and arduous descent down the hill to the monastery road which, at this early hour, still lay quiet and deserted in the sunshine.
Father Urban, prior and infirmarius of Heisterbach, their close and trusted friend who ranked next to the abbot, had sent a messenger to their small hamlet of Ahrweiler with a letter asking them to come. Caspar was able to read. It was an urgent matter concerning the future of their child, the letter stated mysteriously. Caspar and Gret knew what this meant. If Father Urban wrote that the matter was urgent, then one had better hurry. The prior was not a frivolous man given to unfounded exaggerations. His message could only mean that their daughter was in danger.
In great danger.
PART I
Chapter I
Anna woke up before Prime because it was unusually
cold for the time of year. On this day, Maundy Thursday before Easter, the traditional Washing of the Feet of twelve of the faithful took place in the monastery church of Heisterbach, and as usual she had been ordered to assist the prior as an altar server at the sacred ceremony. But Anna was used to the cold. Her tiny cell was of bare brickwork, damp and clammy in summer and winter alike, but on particularly cold winter nights, because the prior and infirmarius Father Urban was well-disposed towards her, she was allowed to take an iron pan with glowing coals from the kitchen next to the refectory to keep warm. It was a privilege which, if discovered, would have caused envy and resentment among the novices at Heisterbach monastery. She always had to wait until the monks, novices and lay brothers had retired to the dormitory so that Prior Urban, without being seen, could hand her the iron pan.
Sometimes, Anna wondered about the prior’s caring, almost fatherly manner with her. His friendship with her parents was probably the reason for it. Between Prior Urban and her father, who always fulfilled his Christian duties, but who was not a religious zealot, there existed a mysterious bond, the origin of which Anna did not know. Her father was a farmer who had leased a few meadows and fields from the monastery. He and his wife thus earned a meagre livelihood, and there were no children apart from Anna. In lean years, of which there were more in recent times, her father did not find it easy to pay the rent. But in his case, the prior had always turned a blind eye, although he was otherwise a most meticulous man when it came to punctual and correct payments due to the monastery.
In addition to his spiritual duties and the nursing responsibilities of an infirmarius, Father Urban was in charge of the revenues of the monastery. When the archbishop of Cologne honoured the monastery with his annual visitation, the prior always took great pride in showing the perfectly balanced books.
Archbishop Konrad von Hochstaden was feared for his thorough scrutiny of everything; after all, each of his monasteries was meant to yield as much profit as possible. He was a wealthy man who spared no effort to extend his sphere of influence and to make life difficult for King Conrad IV, who had been placed on the throne by a remote emperor. Ambitious, vain and grasping, but also unusually intelligent and purposeful, he was the real ruler in his realm between Cologne and Coblenz, and he was feared for his righteous anger that could strike whoever stood in his way out of the blue. But Prior Urban knew how to guide his monastery wisely. Until now, the archbishop never had a reason to visit more than once a year to demand the dues owed to his diocese and to the Pope.
Anna got up and cast a glance into the coal pan, but there was only ash remaining. With a shiver, she fumbled for the only object in her cell which was a clue to her womanly vanity: a thin piece of metal the size of a playing card which she kept hidden under the mattress of her truckle bed. She pulled it out, breathed on it and polished it up with the sleeve of her tunic. She saw her blurred likeness in the small mirror: the pretty, alert face of a girl of lowly origins framed by boyishly short hair cut in the usual tonsure. She had recently turned sixteen but, much to her constant regret, seemed younger. She had eyes of different colours. One iris was brown, the other green, a rare anomaly she had not yet observed in any other human being. Superstitious people – and there were more than enough of them – made the sign of the cross when they came close enough to notice her different-coloured eyes. It was deemed a mark of the devil, and a look from her was considered the evil eye that could enchant.
On a childish impulse, Anna stuck out her tongue at her own reflection and began to dress.
Her small but clearly visible breasts had to be wrapped and pressed flat in a chest band before she could pull the habit and scapular over her head, the garb of a novice which she wore even though she was in the monastery as a lay brother and was not allowed to aspire to vows. Until the present day, Father Urban and herself managed to keep her gender a secret. This was possible only because Anna had a special position in the monastery. As famulus of the infirmarius, she had the cell next to the infirmary to herself; unlike the other novices, she did not have to spend the night in the large communal dormitory. Furthermore, she had a dispensation from regular prayers personally issued by the abbot. After all, it was her duty to be available day and night for any sick person who might need her attention.
She took her duties very seriously. She had learned a lot about nursing from Father Urban, and he was proud of her. He had taught her everything he knew about the art of healing ever since he had admitted her to the monastery as a seven-year-old girl under the name of Marian. As an infirmarius, he was a true master. He also continually endeavoured to deepen his own knowledge – of course only within the limits set by the canonical rule, which for centuries had defined the art of medicine in terms of faith and doctrine. But now and then he also dared to do some personal research with his famulus; this, however, was not to reach the ear of any of those curious and envious monks who were mistrustful of everything new and therefore heretical, and who would have immediately reported anything suspicious to the abbot. Nobody could compare with the experienced Father Urban when it came to nursing, surgery, bloodletting, purging and, most of all, pharmacology. In the monastery garden, he was responsible for the maintenance of the Hortus Botanicus, the botanical garden, and the small adjoining medicinal garden in which grew all manner of herbs which were said to have medicinal properties. Over time, the small medicinal garden had become Anna’s preserve, and she looked after it with special care and dedication.
She sighed when she saw the thin layer of ice in the water basin, cracked it carefully and washed her face. As she dried her face, she heard a sudden knock on the door.
At her word, the cell door opened, and Father Urban stepped in.
‘I am ready, Father,’ Anna said and smiled at him. Father Urban was a cheerful man of more than fifty years whose white beard made him look like a scholar. But today, there was an unusual seriousness about his expression, and Anna could read from his eyes that something was amiss. He gently closed the cell door behind him.
‘I need to talk to you, Anna,’ he said in a low voice.
Concerned, Anna looked at him. He looked away and pushed the coal pan aside with his foot. When he addressed her as ‘Anna’ and not as ‘Brother Marian’ as she was usually called, she knew that something serious must have happened. The prior picked up the coal pan by its handle, put his hand into it and rubbed some ash onto her face. Anna did not move.
‘There you are. Now you look more like Brother Marian again. And not like a girl.’ He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.
‘Did anything happen, Father Urban?’ she asked.
‘God wants to try us, I am afraid.’ He sighed from the depth of his soul and gently put his forefinger on her lips to silence her. ‘Not here.’
The prior opened the door, looked cautiously down the corridor and nodded.
‘Follow me, Brother Marian,’ he ordered loudly.
He stepped out. Anna hesitated briefly, hid under the mattress again the piece of metal, which had not escaped the attentive eye of the monk, and followed the prior and infirmarius.
They hurried through the infirmary into the draughty cloister where they met two novices who were obviously late, running to Prime with habits flapping. As soon as they saw the prior, they slowed down their unseemly pace and bowed respectfully. Any other time, Father Urban would have reprimanded them sternly, but today he only nodded absentmindedly and headed for the great hall of the abbot which he used in the latter’s absence as a work space and reception room for visitors. Weeks earlier, the abbot of Heisterbach monastery had been summoned to the archbishop of Cologne under whose direction a General Chapter was taking place. It seemed that there was no end to it, due to the numerous trials against heretics that were taking place at so many meetings of the order.
Prior Urban opened the door to the reception hall, waited until Anna had stepped in and closed it very carefully behind her. Anna had entered the abbot’s reception hall only two or thr
ee times before, and again she marvelled at the splendour of its vast space. The hall was nearly as big as the aisle of the abbey church, with magnificent tapestries depicting the passion of Christ and an open fireplace into which her own cell would have fitted. Around the crackling fire a few chairs had been arranged in a semi-circle next to which stood a heavy oak desk. There, in the back part of the room, a poorly dressed couple stood waiting. The man, haggard, grey-haired and bareheaded, was nervously twisting his hat. His thin wife anxiously and expectantly looked towards the new arrivals. As soon as they saw Anna, the old man and his wife began to smile broadly.
Anna was so surprised to see her parents that at first she hesitated, but then her eyes filled with tears of joy.
‘Mother! Father!’
She ran towards the two and hugged her mother, tightly kissing her on both cheeks. Her mother didn’t want to let her go, but Anna turned to her father and embraced him tightly. Her father, also fighting back tears, held Anna at arm’s length and lovingly scrutinised her ash-stained face. However, before he could say anything, the prior put a warning finger to his lips.
‘We must be very quiet!’ he said softly. ‘The walls have ears! Have a seat.’
He waited until Anna and her parents sat down. They looked at him expectantly. Anna’s mother squeezed her daughter’s hand, not wanting to take her eyes off her.
Father Urban remained standing and cleared his throat.
‘How long is it now since you gave Anna into my care?’
‘It must be more than ten years, your reverence,’ the father answered in a husky voice.
‘A long time indeed. But everything has its appointed hour, and there is a time for everything under heaven.’
He looked at Anna. ‘And now your time has come, Anna.’
The parents nodded respectfully. Anna, however, looked at the prior somewhat distrustfully and silently waited for an explanation.