The Apothecary's Secret

by Johanna Geiges

  ‘What’s the matter? What is worrying you?’ he had asked her.

  Anna replied: ‘I would like to know what happened to my parents. I cannot sleep at night any more for worrying.’

  He sighed and sat down with her. ‘Patience, Anna. The time will come. If you start asking around now, you will arouse curiosity. People will want to know what’s behind your questions, and it is said that the archbishop has his eyes and ears everywhere. He would find out sooner or later that somebody is making enquiries about your case. Believe me, it is too dangerous. The opportunity will certainly arise to learn more. After all we do manage to get around a lot. You cannot force things. You are but a weak young woman.’

  She was about to protest at this remark, but he motioned at her to calm down.

  ‘Our world is ruled by men whether you like it or not: by the husband or father within the family, by the village mayor or burgomaster in everyday life, by the nobility and the clergy in the realm. And who is the most powerful man in our land? The archbishop of Cologne – do not forget that. He has all the means to enforce his will. He has money and influence and, as a result, power. He does not yet dare to challenge the Staufers and their representatives openly here in Oppenheim, but he is only waiting for the right moment, I am sure of it. Wait for things to happen. The time will come when you will know exactly what to do. When the time is right, you will know.’

  Anna had a feeling that there was more to it than what he said. Did Aaron have the gift of seeing something in her of which she herself was not yet aware?

  She sighed. Of course the medicus was right in appealing for patience. But it was incredibly difficult to live with the constant uncertainty.

  To take her mind off these thoughts she tried reading in her room by candlelight. It was a Latin book from Aaron’s library about the humours of the body, their imbalance in the case of illness and their relationship with certain stellar constellations. But ever since she had become Aaron’s famula, texts like this seemed antiquated, superstitious and of little help to her. Once she used to devour such tracts, believing every claim to be wise and true. She could remember everything after a single reading, and should the need arise, was able to quote freely. Now she found many of the methods far removed from reality, because day after day she could witness the healing Aaron achieved – precisely because he did not follow the rules that for centuries had been considered inviolable, but instead acted according to his own experiences and common sense.

  When she could not fall asleep she decided to go to the kitchen and drink some milk, hoping it might help.

  On the way from the kitchen to her room she noticed a light in the laboratory. She hesitated and as the door was ajar, tapped on the doorframe so as not to frighten Aaron.

  ‘Just come in,’ he said without turning around, completely absorbed at his laboratory bench.

  Anna stepped into the large room full of equipment and shelves on which at least a dozen candles were flickering. Aaron was wearing the stained smock which he only put on when he was doing experiments. More recently he had started to busy himself with new types of salts and caustic liquids which he mixed with ointments and oils from faraway countries and on which he spent a fortune. At such moments the medicus always appeared to Anna to be like an alchemist because all the crucibles and glass flasks hissed, bubbled and stank. Occasionally there was a small fire and once even an explosion in which one of his expensive glasses broke. At such moments he would swear terribly in Yiddish, believing himself to be alone.

  Anna stepped closer and saw that he was bent over a dead hare whose pelt he was expertly removing like a hunter. He was working with his metal instruments and knives sharp enough to split a hair.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Anna asked and watched how he started to operate on the belly.

  ‘I want to get behind a secret that has bothered me for a long time,’ he said. ‘The secret of blood, do you understand? Where in the body is it produced, and how is it moved around?’

  ‘And why are you using a hare, master?’

  ‘By necessity, Anna, by necessity,’ he replied with a sigh. He had now exposed the interior of the animal the entrails of which were still steaming. ‘What I am doing here is called a dissection. I was present in Florence when colleagues demonstrated this procedure to me with a human body, the corpse of an executed assassin. Like thieves in the night, secretly and with strict security precautions, we had to carry out the dissection. The Church strictly forbids any experiments on corpses. Had we been caught we would have been burnt at the stake. That is also the reason why I make my little experiments here with a hare. But I am interested in the principle, and some bodily processes and the arrangement of organs are similar in humans and animals. I can draw my conclusions without running the risk of going up in flames to the amusement of the mob.’

  ‘But if one cuts up a dead body and removes the organs – how is this dead person supposed to rise intact on the Day of Judgement?’

  ‘Correct, Anna, absolutely correct. That is what the Church says. But I ask you: How is one to learn how a human being is built on the inside and what is happening in his or her body if one is not allowed to open up the body after death for the purposes of study?’

  Anna had no answer to this.

  ‘You see, Anna,’ he said, ‘the archbishop cannot answer this question for you either. And therefore I am forced to make do with a hare. I am not doing it to kill the creature but gain new insights. That makes a difference.’

  He pointed to the cut-open hare.

  ‘Now tell me one thing: Where are the four humours that are responsible for health and sickness?’

  ‘The doctrine regarding them refers to human beings. Not to animals.’

  The medicus was now in his element. ‘It is an animal, of course, you are right there. But you cannot deny that animals are also creatures of flesh and blood who can injure themselves or fall ill occasionally, can you?’

  ‘Of course I wouldn’t deny that.’

  ‘And what do you see here?’

  ‘Blood.’

  ‘Blood. Exactly. Neither yellow nor black bile, nor phlegm, therefore none of those humours, right?’

  Anna nodded.

  Pointing with his sharp knife to different parts of the hare, the medicus continued. ‘And here are the parts. Heart, lungs, kidneys, intestines. Has a human being not the same organs also, similarly arranged, if of partly different size and shape?’

  ‘Certainly. But an animal has no soul.’

  ‘That is current doctrine and I do not want to argue about it with you. The fact remains that this hare has blood like us, organs like us, bones like us. And I want to know how and why the blood moves around in its body.’

  ‘It moves around?’

  He took her hand and placed it against his neck.

  ‘Can you feel how it moves?’

  ‘I can feel your heart beat.’

  ‘Yes. It pumps the blood through the body. And you can feel it again and again all day long, and even when you are asleep. You can feel it your whole life long until you die. Then it stops beating. Have you ever felt that in a dead body?’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘What does Galen say, the famous Greek medicus with his doctrine of the Four Humours to whom all doctors refer to this day?’ He tapped one of the tomes which he had placed on a lectern next to the table. ‘He claims that the balance of the humours equals the health of a human being and that illnesses are due to imbalances. An organ is attributed to each of these humours, which can store, convert or produce that particular humour.’

  ‘This is how I have learned it.’

  ‘Everybody has believed him for hundreds of years. But I am convinced that he is not correct.’

  ‘And you believe you can prove the opposite?’

  ‘Not the opposite, but that which is true. There is a big difference between the two.’

  He scribbled something into a thick book that lay beside the Greek tome and that
he had filled with notes and drawings.

  He looked up at Anna and asked: ‘Why does blood flow from a wound?’

  Anna reflected and said: ‘It is like a full wine skin. If I cut a hole in it, the wine comes out.’

  ‘Absolutely right. And why? If you hold the skin with the hole up, the wine stops flowing out. But if you hold up an arm which has been injured the bleeding does not stop. Why? Because the blood is under pressure. Look at my distillation apparatus. If I light a fire under the cauldron, pressure is created and if I drill a hole into a pipe, vapour will escape. It is my opinion that exactly the same thing happens in the human body.’

  ‘And what causes the pressure?’

  He pointed to his chest. ‘The heart. It pushes the blood through the body.’

  ‘But . . . if that is so – and it does sound logical – why does nobody know this?’

  ‘Because we do not know the body yet; we have not yet studied the interplay of muscles, bones, blood, sinews, organs. Only when we know what is happening in the body can we understand interior diseases. We still have a long way to go. Especially when we are not permitted to see what is holding us together in our innermost parts and which allows us to live, walk, eat, drink, digest, think.’

  Aaron looked at her, his eyes glowing with enthusiasm and the joy of discovery.

  ‘Do you know, master, that at times you frighten me?’

  ‘Let me tell you one thing, Anna,’ he admonished. ‘Human curiosity alone allows us to advance in this life. Not the stubborn insistence on ancient tradition! “This is how it was always done and only this way is right; everything else and everything new is of the devil” – is there any worse argument than this? We could prevent or heal many illnesses if only we had the possibility of investigating that which we still don’t understand. How much pain could we then alleviate, Anna, how much pain?’

  When Anna was back in bed again, she continued for a long time to think about the medicus’ words. At last she decided she would keep her mind open to everything new and never stop questioning. She admired her medicus, and had come to share his passion for research and the sciences. At the same time she feared that she would never be as perceptive and full of knowledge as he was. But what had he said when she told him about this worry just before he sent her back to her room? ‘It is a dishonour for a teacher if his student does not overtake him in knowledge and skills one day.’ And saying this, he had smiled.

  Chapter XIII

  Later that night Anna woke thinking a horse had ridden into the courtyard and that she had heard noises in the house. But as she listened, everything seemed quiet and she convinced herself that she must have been dreaming and dozed off again. But at the second rumbling she was startled. Something was definitely not right. In her light nightdress, with her blanket pulled around her shoulders, she got up and was almost at the door when it was flung open by a distraught Esther, hair awry, who rushed in holding a candle.

  ‘Get dressed quickly, Anna. There is an emergency. Aaron needs your help. Don’t ask any questions, there is no time. Aaron says it is very urgent.’

  Anna quickly pulled her tunic over her head and threw on her dark hooded cloak. Esther waited until she was ready and then went ahead with the light.

  The sounds that woke Anna had come from the laboratory, where Aaron was nervously hunting around in his collection of instruments while Rebecca held a candle for him. Whatever he didn’t need he threw aside carelessly as he packed a second satchel with everything he considered worth taking along. As usual his other satchel lay by the door packed and ready for every emergency.

  Aaron was still stuffing linen bandages and the oddly shaped listening tube into the satchel, when he said without looking up: ‘You are taking the other satchel, Anna. Also pack two sleeping sponges . . . and aqua vitae.’

  Anna did as she was told, got her satchel ready and hung it over her shoulder by the strap.

  Aaron was still searching for something. ‘We absolutely need the special threads. Where on earth did I put them?’

  ‘Which threads?’ she asked.

  ‘I have made special threads for the stitching of large wounds. Ah, here they are!’

  He opened a drawer and took out a cloth which he unwound. In the cloth, there were needles already threaded with a material that Anna did not immediately recognise.

  The Medicus rolled the cloth up again and gave it to Anna. ‘Put them into your satchel. I do hope that we won’t need them, but one never knows.’

  Anna took the cloth while Aaron seized the second satchel and walked past her.

  ‘What are you waiting for? It’s a matter of life and death. Let’s go!’ he said, his face grim.

  Normally Aaron was not given to drama, but Anna became afraid when she saw his fiercely resolute expression. She did not dare ask where and to whom they were going.

  She nearly walked into him when he suddenly stopped. Softly he said: ‘Everything that you see or do from now on you must keep to yourself, always, under all circumstances. Will you promise me this by all that is sacred to you?’

  She looked into his eyes and answered with a firm voice: ‘Yes I will, master!’

  Aaron turned and walked along the hall heading for the barn, and Anna followed.

  A strange horse was snorting in the barn and the space was poorly lit by a torch. Next to the horse stood a man who had pulled his hood so far down his forehead that only the tip of his nose showed. In the flickering light, Anna recognised the black horse with the white blaze and now she felt hot and cold at the same time. She had suspected immediately who the waiting man might be, and now she knew it.

  She would have recognised him anywhere.

  It was the man from her dream. Chassim.

  Just then the hooded man lifted his head briefly and their eyes met. Anna did not know whether he recognised her. She only felt herself blush again, and this wasn’t the time for speculation.

  Aaron pointed at her briefly and said: ‘My famula,’ and Chassim greeted her with a brief nod. He pushed a pitch-soaked torch into her hand and another into Aaron’s. He lit both with his own and Anna tried desperately not to look at his face. Her hand holding the torch shook.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Aaron said and hurried into the farthest corner of the barn where the floor was covered with straw. He took a broom and swept it aside, revealing a secret trap door. Aaron pulled the trap door up by its ring and held it open. He let Chassim and Anna pass down a steep staircase, lowered the door behind him and followed them.

  At the bottom of the stairs was a room from which a damp earthen passage led steeply downwards. It was so narrow that they had to walk hunched up behind each other. Aaron pushed past Chassim and Anna and led them on in single file. Anna reckoned that the passage went right under the city walls because it smelled musty and damp. At some stage there was a wide bend, after which the tunnel led further down before continuing, level and straight. In the light of the pitch torches, supporting beams appeared at regular intervals. The ceiling and the walls were dripping everywhere and there were large puddles in some places. Aaron seemed to know his way well and moved quickly, with Chassim at his heels and Anna bringing up the rear.

  Suddenly the passage widened and by the light of the torches they saw side tunnels and junctions, but Aaron did not hesitate for a moment as he headed through the labyrinth, until the passage became wider and they reached a second, low stone-walled chamber. From the chamber three passages branched off; Aaron hurried on unerringly, choosing one to the right, while Chassim and Anna struggled to keep up.

  In the dank and oppressive atmosphere Anna could feel the sweat pouring down her neck. The air was bad and the smoke from the torches stung her nose and eyes. She suppressed a cough. Focussing entirely on the two men ahead and on her own steps, she had lost any sense of space or time. Initially she had tried to guess where they were approximately, but now she concentrated fully on not losing sight of the two men in the maze of passages.

 
She was beginning to wonder if it would ever end when Aaron reached a door. Chassim pushed past him, pulled out a key, unlocked it and, using all his strength, pulled the heavy door open. Inside, a steep, narrow cut-rock stairway spiralled upwards.

  Now Chassim took the lead, walking so fast that Aaron and Anna could hardly keep up. Aaron had started to pant, and Anna, too, was getting short of breath. She was also getting dizzy on the seemingly endless winding steps. Aaron was slowing down, and Anna feared he was nearly exhausted. Then, at last, Chassim stopped.

  He turned around on a landing and waited for his companions, who caught up breathing heavily. They were facing a heavy door. Chassim took out another key and turned it carefully in the lock.

  Next to the door were two leather buckets. One contained fresh pitch torches, the other, water. Chassim quenched his torch, and Anna and Aaron did likewise. Only now did Chassim push the door slightly ajar and peep in. Flickering light lit the room inside, the coast seemed clear and Chassim gestured that they should follow him.

  They entered a musty cellar area lit by a torch in a wall-bracket. It was the Castle dungeons with half a dozen empty cells.

  Anna dared whisper to Aaron: ‘Where are we?’

  ‘At Landskron Castle,’ he whispered back, ‘We are in the dungeons of the keep.’

  Anna was astonished. She had thought that she was still beneath Oppenheim, but now she realised that the stony spiral staircase must have led them up inside the rock on which Landskron Castle perched.

  The keep, a gigantic stone tower, was intended to be the last bastion in case the castle was stormed by an enemy some day. It had two points of access: at ground level, a heavy oak door studded with iron, which when barred was practically unassailable; and on the third floor, a narrow and easy-to-defend bridge, which led to the palas where the count’s family and important guests lived.

  So Anna, Aaron and Chassim had to go through another small hidden door behind which another spiral staircase led up through the keep. When they reached the narrow bridge high above the inner courtyard of the castle they hurried across towards the palas.