The Apothecary's Secret

by Johanna Geiges

  Anna looked at him wide-eyed. ‘You prepared it for me in advance? How did you know that I would need it?’

  ‘I’d be a poor medicus if I hadn’t foreseen that. Now don’t talk so much – drink instead!’

  Anna took a deep breath and emptied the cup in one go. She put it down on the table and looked at Aaron with bloodshot eyes. ‘Will you now hand me over to the archbishop?’ she asked with a fearful look.

  ‘Why would I do that?’ Aaron asked with surprise.

  ‘Because they will eliminate you, too, if they find out that you have taken me in.’

  ‘Who are “they”? Why should everybody be after you? What have you done?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Anna and blew her nose vigorously into the cloth which Aaron had pushed into her hand. ‘Except that I have abused the hospitality of the monastery under a false name and gender for ten years. But nobody can really know that. When the archbishop threw me out of the monastery because of my leprosy, I was still Brother Marian in the eyes of everybody at Heisterbach. And as such I died before their eyes.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘They believe that Brother Marian drowned. He . . . I was condemned to death because I dared to enter a house, which as a leper I was strictly forbidden to do. I was forced to jump into the river, but I managed to escape from them. It all happened at night and nobody could see that I managed to save myself. If they now find out that I am still alive they will do everything to get rid of me and anybody who knows I’m still around.’

  Aaron shrugged his shoulders. ‘Why should they learn that you are still alive? Nobody will be looking for you if they all think that you drowned. Brother Marian is dead. Perhaps it would be best if you buried him once and for all and never resurrect him again.’ He saw the shock in Anna’s eyes and apologised: ‘I am sorry if I sometimes overdo it with my mockery. It was not meant unkindly.’

  He stood up and thought aloud. ‘My sister saw you in the bath. She and Rebecca are therefore in the know . . .’

  ‘So it was she who told you?’

  ‘Yes, but I suspected it anyway ever since the burial of my servant when you sang so clearly and brightly with the voice of an angel. You sounded as if your voice had not yet broken, yet you told me afterwards that you were over sixteen years old. But I wanted to wait till you told me yourself. My sister, however, is an overly curious person. She came running to me with her discovery. I will have to swear her to secrecy and Rebecca too. It will not be easy.’ He smiled. ‘Both of them are bad at keeping secrets, but in this case they will have to; after all, their own safety is at stake. I will see to that, don’t worry. We will now go to the kitchen. Esther and Rebecca have prepared dinner, and you must be starving . . .’

  Anna shook her head.

  ‘Nonsense!’ Aaron said sternly and pulled Anna up from the chair. ‘You must eat; this is an instruction from your medicus. Afterwards, you and I will sit together and you will tell me the whole story. Then we will discuss the best thing to do. Agreed?’

  Anna shrugged her shoulders and looked at the floor like a defiant little girl who didn’t know what she wanted. She felt as if there were two Annas. One was serious and grown-up and had seen a lot of suffering, and the other was fragile and vulnerable because her confidence had suffered a setback. This second Anna did not normally show herself to anybody. That she made an exception in Aaron’s case was proof of the trust in which she had come to hold him.

  He gently took her chin into his hand and lifted it playfully so that she had to look at him. ‘Agreed?’ he repeated.

  For the first time, a smile crept into Anna’s face and she nodded.

  ‘Well then,’ Aaron said contentedly as he pushed her towards the kitchen from which an aroma so enticing emanated that it made her mouth water.

  At table, after Aaron had blessed the food, Anna ate three helpings of mash enriched with chicken which tasted superb. She also had half a loaf of unleavened bread and drank two cups of wine diluted with water. Esther and Rebecca marvelled at the enormous appetite of the thin little girl and were delighted that she enjoyed the food so much. When eventually Anna was full and she wanted to thank them, she was so tired that her head bowed and hit the table. But still she held the wooden spoon in her fist as if she would never let go of it. Aaron’s brew had certainly proved its efficacy.

  Chapter VI

  It was the middle of the night and Gero had just fallen asleep. The banquet with the revelry which would have followed had been cancelled because his companions Oswald and Lutz had ridden to Worms to look for new horses at the local fair. Suddenly there was a loud knock at his bed chamber door. Without waiting for an answer, the door was opened by one of the archbishop’s servants who stepped in.

  ‘Please excuse my intrusion, count, but your uncle the bishop wishes to speak to you.’

  ‘Now?’ Gero asked drowsily, ‘at this hour?’

  ‘As you well know, the archbishop does not waste his time sleeping,’ the servant said sharply and left the bed chamber. Normally, no official anywhere in the entire county would have dared to treat Gero von Hochstaden like this. But the archbishop’s men were under express orders to carry out their master’s wishes without delay, and everybody knew that if the archbishop called, one did not hesitate for a moment to answer his call.

  Gero poured a jug of cold water over his head to help him wake up and got dressed hastily.

  Thus refreshed, he set off through the corridors and stairs of the rambling castle to the main hall. When he entered he was surprised to find it empty except for a few sleeping servants and the dogs lying around the crackling fire.

  ‘Where are you?’ came an impatient cry from above and Gero looked around the vast hall for the archbishop’s servant. He spotted him at the foot of a stairs that led to a wing of the much-enlarged castle where guests where usually accommodated.

  Gero hastened and followed the servant who, torch in hand, led the way down a dark corridor, finally stopping outside a heavy oak door. The servant knocked on the door with the big signet ring that he, like all the men of the archbishop’s inner circle, wore on his left hand. He did not enter but waited until the door was opened from inside. An armed guard peered out and looked up and down the corridor before stepping aside to let the visitors in and closing the door.

  Like the Knights of the Round Table, an illustrious group was sitting around a horseshoe-shaped oak table on which lay the remains of an opulent meal. Nobody said a word, but all watched as Gero and his escort came closer. Flickering candles illuminated the room as a cupbearer poured wine into precious glasses. Gero stood at the table and, prompted by a glance from his father, bowed to his uncle, the archbishop, who seemed to be chairing the conspiratorial meeting. Konrad von Hochstaden scrutinised his nephew, who began to feel uncomfortable in the silence.

  When his father eventually dismissed the cupbearer, accompanied by Gero’s escort and the armed guard, Gero understood that nobody was to know of the issues being discussed here. He would wait until spoken to. Until the door closed again, Gero had time to assess unobtrusively the twelve middle-aged men sitting around the table. He recognised the archbishop, his right-hand man Abbot Sixtus, his Uncle Heinrich and his father. The others he had not seen before. Most likely they were Guelph advisors, high nobility and churchmen from the archbishop’s circle.

  The archbishop broke the pall of silence with his introduction.

  ‘This is my nephew Gero.’ The fact that he was not asked to sit down made Gero nervous but he did not show his feelings as he nodded to the semi-circle of noblemen. It was clear that he had to make a good impression, and to judge by all the solemn faces it was clear that something highly sensitive was being discussed.

  ‘Gero,’ the archbishop continued at last, ‘swear to me and the men assembled here by the blood of Jesus Christ that no word of what is being discussed here will ever leave this room.’

  Gero cleared his throat, lifted his right hand with three fingers raised and
said: ‘I swear!’

  ‘Good,’ the archbishop replied but still made no move to ask Gero to sit down.

  Imperceptibly Gero shifted his weight to the other foot. He was very glad that he had not been drinking excessively that evening.

  At last, after what seemed like an eternity, his uncle looked up from the documents he had been examining. ‘Let’s get down to business. Sit down, Gero,’ the archbishop said, suddenly affable, and pointed to the only unoccupied chair.

  Gero did as he was told and looked at his uncle expectantly.

  ‘We need a reliable man for a difficult mission,’ Konrad von Hochstaden said. ‘Your father suggested you. He is of the opinion that you proved yourself a prudent follower during our visit to Heisterbach monastery.’ He paused dramatically to see his nephew’s reaction but Gero thought it best not to bat an eye.

  ‘If you accept our assignment, you will be sent to a place where nobody will know you. That is the first precondition. The second is that you must proceed with exceptional caution and discretion. Your father has vouched for you and says you are equal to the task.’

  Gero swallowed hard, continuing to feign nonchalance. His uncle knew very well that lack of self-control and irascibility were among Gero’s best-known traits. But this time he determined that he would get a grip on himself. Much depended on it if he was to carry out this longed-for order to the archbishop’s satisfaction.

  ‘You have wasted your time long enough in adolescent high spirits, have often compromised your position and more than once overstepped the law.’

  These stinging words and the withering look of the archbishop made Gero shiver.

  ‘You will now be given an opportunity to become a useful member of our family and prove you are worthy of the von Hochstaden name.’

  The silent men at the table nodded their agreement. ‘The honourable men assembled here . . .’ Konrad von Hochstaden continued making a wide gesture to include the entire table, ‘. . . together with me will make every effort to put an end to the reign of the emperor who calls himself Frederick II in the Holy Roman Empire. One who shows more interest in his Saracen whores and an island called Sicily than to his duty and obligations in the administration and political life of the empire he had received as a fiefdom from the Pope.’ Those present rapped the table approvingly.

  ‘The Pope has bestowed the title of emperor on him, but contained in this supreme title is not only direct governance but also Christian duty. A duty to the prince-electors and to our German motherland. By disgracefully neglecting this duty, Frederick II has sinned against God. And now, to make matters worse, this emperor refuses to repent of his sins and accept with humility the excommunication pronounced by the late Pope. Instead he imposes his immature son Conrad on us as king! That, my lords, is something we can no longer tolerate!’

  He paused while the nobles at the table grimly nodded their heads and murmured approval.

  Konrad von Hochstaden turned to Gero, who was stunned by his uncle’s passionate speech. ‘Do you agree unreservedly with my words, which simply reflect the convictions of those present, Gero von Hochstaden?’

  Gero was still so shocked that he could only stammer: ‘That . . . that is high treason, your grace.’

  He regretted his words as soon as he had spoken them, though he could not have described the archbishop’s fiery speech in any other way. He had suspected that his uncle was up to something that could be classified as ‘calling for urgent reforms’ or ‘issuing an ultimatum for reasons of state’, but that he would go so far as to question the emperor’s claim to power and wish to overthrow him, Gero would not have imagined in his wildest dreams. As the silence that greeted his reply continued, Gero began to feel afraid, and hoped that his answer would not cost him his life.

  Konrad von Hochstaden turned to Gero’s father, Lothar von Hochstaden.

  ‘Your son has keener perception than I thought,’ he said scornfully and, suddenly, everybody broke into laughter. Gero eventually joined in even though he wasn’t sure whether they were laughing at him for his rash comment, or because he was right – the time had come at last to commit high treason and remove the Staufer and his foot soldiers.

  Konrad von Hochstaden waited for the caustic merriment to subside and continued solemnly: ‘We who have assembled here during the regrettable vacancy of the Holy See have been chosen to renew the Holy Roman Empire before it goes to the dogs once and for all under Frederick, the messenger of Lucifer. So I ask you, Gero von Hochstaden, are you willing to play your part?’

  Gero stood up and replied solemnly: ‘Your grace, let me be your arm and sword. What shall I do?’

  ‘You will first grow a beard to make yourself unrecognisable and then travel to Oppenheim with two of your most trusted followers. There, you will get yourself hired at Landskron Castle as a man-at-arms. Count Georg von Landskron is a loyal vassal of the unlawful King Conrad. The way things stand, there is bound to be a meeting of the Staufer supporters in Oppenheim sooner or later. We need to know what they know and what their plans are for strengthening the king’s position. You will keep us up to date on money, troops, followers – everything. Do you trust yourself to undertake this challenging task?’

  In the short time that Gero had stood before the nobles he had grown so bold that he would have promised them there and then to ride straight away to Apulia and abduct the emperor himself from the midst of his Moorish bodyguards. From now on he would be carrying out an important mission on behalf of the archbishop and nothing would stop him. So he proudly puffed out his chest and announced loudly, clearly and full of conviction: ‘Yes, your grace, I do. I will execute your orders to your satisfaction.’

  Konrad von Hochstaden pulled the signet ring from his right hand. It showed the von Hochstaden coat of arms, a silver imperial eagle on a red background. Solemnly the archbishop handed the ring to Gero: ‘You are now acting on my orders. If necessary you can use this ring as proof of identity. But be careful to whom you show this ring. You have to be completely certain that they are on our side.’

  Gero bowed and pocketed the ring.

  Once again the archbishop held his shoulders and looked into his eyes. ‘You are hereby dismissed. You will receive detailed instructions from your father and leave as soon as possible. He will also give you the names of our contacts whom you can trust. And now go!’

  He waited until Gero, having bowed, had left the room.

  When at last the guard had pulled the door shut behind him and he was standing alone in the corridor, Gero could hardly believe his luck. He took the signet ring from his pocket and looked at it again. At last his abilities had been recognised and he had received the noble order that he been awaiting so eagerly. How proud his companions would be of him! He was bursting to inform them as soon as possible. As a threesome the fun would be threefold. With a feeling of elation that he had not experienced in a long time, he started to walk towards the kitchens. Suddenly he was hungry enough to devour half an ox.

  Chapter VII

  After a hearty breakfast Aaron studied the list of patients that his sister had written out for him. Having been away for such a long time he now needed to visit many of his charges. Leaning back in his chair he watched Anna helping Rebecca clear the table. He was surprised that he had not noticed immediately how little there was about Anna that seemed male. Perhaps it was that she was free in his household to be herself. Here she no longer had to play the role that had been forced upon her that had become second nature after so many years. Aaron sighed. It would not be easy to convince Anna that it would be better for the time being if she worked with him as his famula under her real name, albeit with a made-up life story. He had thought about this very carefully.

  ‘Unfortunately my patients will have to wait a little longer,’ he said to Esther. ‘Anna and I should clarify a few things before we can start our work. We will retire to the treatment room now. Under no circumstances am I to be disturbed. Come, Anna,’ he said and walked a
head. Anna followed him.

  When he had closed the door to the treatment room and they were both sitting down, Aaron began. ‘Well then, Anna, the time has come for you to tell me everything so that I know your whole story. I beg you do not leave anything out, and tell me the whole truth even if it hurts. We will then talk about your future.’

  Anna nodded willingly and began by telling Aaron how she had gone to Heisterbach monastery and about her time with Father Urban, the infirmarius. Finally and with tears in her eyes, she told him all about her daring escape, the events in the village of Ahrweiler and her fears for her parents.

  Aaron had stood up and was pacing up and down like a lion in a cage to help him think. He allowed Anna to speak freely; he did not interrupt her, nor hurry her nor ask questions. He waited patiently until she had reached the end of her story. For a moment there was silence as Aaron, still pacing up and down, kept thinking.

  ‘You have gone through a lot, Anna,’ he said, finally putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘But I fear you have not yet reached the end of your suffering. The archbishop’s obvious involvement in your affairs as well as the uncertain fate of your parents do not bode well. The archbishop is known to be a highly ambitious and powerful man, and nobody likes to have him for an enemy. And whoever becomes his enemy does not survive very long, as your story proves. What surprises me is that he must have considered you a threat, since he did everything in his power to do away with you. But we can’t solve this now. Or do you by chance have the slightest inkling why you might be a danger to him?’

  He looked at her.

  Helplessly Anna shrugged her shoulders. ‘I have racked my brains about it, but I simply do not know.’

  ‘Father Urban knew, I am sure, but he is dead and he took his secret to the grave with him. Your parents alone could tell you what it is all about.’

  ‘I am also quite certain that they did not give me into Father Urban’s care without good reason. If it had been about reading and writing only, my father could have taught me.’