The Apothecary's Secret

by Johanna Geiges

  At the far end of the bridge Chassim opened another door hidden behind a wall hanging, and they found themselves in a long corridor dimly lit by torches. Exquisite fabrics the likes of which Anna had never seen hung on the walls and expensive stained-glass windows faced towards the inner courtyard through which weak moonlight shone, conjuring filigree patterns on the stone floor.

  A man in a sumptuously embroidered coat with wide sleeves hurried towards them. He seemed to have been awaiting their arrival and looked deeply worried. Anna gasped – it was Count Georg von Landskron in person, and he greeted the medicus like an old friend.

  ‘And I thought you mightn’t come at all!’ he said to Aaron in a worried voice.

  ‘We came as fast as we could, brother-in-law,’ Chassim interjected and put his hand soothingly on the count’s shoulder.

  So Chassim is the brother of Count Georg’s wife, Anna thought before curtsying to the count.

  ‘And this is the famula of the medicus,’ Chassim explained.

  ‘I am glad that you are here and I thank you for coming. Hopefully it is not too late,’ the count said and hurried ahead.

  ‘Have the waters broken?’ Aaron asked abruptly.

  ‘Yes, the midwife said something to that effect. I have already called the castle chaplain and he has heard her confession in as far as was possible. Ottgild is in great pain,’ the count replied. Then he stood still again for a moment, touching Aaron with his hand.

  ‘Please, Master Aaron, do help my wife and save her and the child. You are my last hope. If you do so, I will fulfil any wish you may have if it is in my power. You may always remind me of my promise.’

  Aaron replied: ‘I always do what I can, count. But I do thank you for your trust.’

  Count Georg nodded and they walked on.

  After all, Aaron was Jewish and using his services in public would show that the count had more trust in a Jewish Medicus than in traditional Christian midwives, barbers and quacks.

  As they reached the antechambers of the count’s suite, muted cries could be heard. They all winced and the count quickened his steps. A chambermaid with a wash basin came hurrying by and disappeared through a door. They walked through a second chamber with heavy tapestries on the walls and reed mats sprinkled with aromatic herbs on the floor. The scent of lavender, rose petals and rosemary filled the air. At last they reached a door which led to the bed chamber where an older servant was sitting on guard. She stood up immediately at the approach of the three men and the small woman in the cloak. She opened the door and Aaron and the count stepped inside.

  Chassim stopped and held Anna by the shoulder. She jolted imperceptibly at his touch. Softly he said to her: ‘I will not go in. The place at Ottgild’s side belongs to her husband, not her brother. Give my apologies to my sister.’ Looking steadily into Anna’s eyes, he continued, ‘promise me that you will do everything to help her and the child.’

  When Chassim had turned to face Anna, she felt for a moment as if time stood still. But she pulled herself together and replied: ‘Be assured that we will do everything in our power, sir. This I promise you.’

  Chassim bent down to Anna and whispered: ‘My brother-in-law loves his wife. He must not lose her!’

  Then he turned around abruptly and left.

  Anna entered the chamber and the servant closed the door behind her.

  Countess Ottgild was a beautiful woman but she looked exhausted as she lay in her big bed with her head and upper body supported by pillows. She was clenching the bed bonnet she must have pulled off during a contraction. Her long curly hair fell over the sweat-soaked pillow and she was panting as Anna entered the room. A stout servant, apparently her nurse, wiped the sweat from her forehead with a cloth as Anna stepped closer. Aaron was already on the right side of the bed while the count sat down opposite, taking his wife’s hand in his.

  Ottgild opened her eyes and, recognising Aaron, attempted a weak smile. ‘Thank you for coming, Master Aaron. I am relieved that you are here.’

  A contraction gripped her body and she rose up screaming.

  Aaron waited till the contraction had subsided and she sank back into her pillows, closing her eyes, exhausted.

  Anna shook off her torpor and opened her satchel to put everything that might be needed on a cloth. This was not the first difficult birth that she had seen. Nobody called the medicus for a normal birth – only when there were complications and the midwife did not know what to do. When the incantations and abdominal poultices no longer helped, he was hastily summoned, sometimes even in the middle of the night. Anna had experienced this quite often in the weeks that she had been with him. Wonders were then expected of Aaron, which he could not necessarily work, especially not when he had been called too late.

  Now he bent down to the countess. In the meantime her breathing had become more shallow. ‘Have the waters broken?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, they have,’ she answered weakly. ‘A long time ago, but the child does not want to be born.’

  ‘Was blood mixed up in it?’ he asked the nurse at Ottgild’s side.

  ‘Yes, but not much,’ the nurse replied.

  Aaron looked at Ottgild again: ‘How long have you been having labour pains?’

  She answered: ‘This night and half a day.’

  ‘Has the army surgeon or any other doctor been with you?’

  ‘The nurse,’ the count pointed to the servant who was standing next to Aaron, ‘sent for the army surgeon when I wasn’t here. He wanted to bleed my wife, but I returned just in time and forbade him to do so. When he insisted, I threw him out.’

  ‘You did well there,’ Aaron said.

  He took Ottgild’s hand and patted it reassuringly. ‘I will examine you now, countess. Stay calm; everything will be well.’

  He lifted the covers from her body and felt her swollen abdomen on all sides. Then he reached out his hand for the listening tube, which Anna was holding at the ready. Gently Aaron started to listen to the abdomen of the expectant mother. Finally he put the tube down and asked the nurse: ‘At what intervals are the contractions coming?’

  ‘It varies,’ she said. ‘Some follow hard on each other and then again nothing happens for such a long time that you could think they weren’t contractions at all.’

  Aaron looked thoughtful. Ottgild took his hand fearfully. ‘Am I going to lose this child, too? Tell me the truth, medicus!’

  Aaron cleared his throat, took the cloth from the nurse and wiped the beads of sweat off Ottgild’s face.

  He said: ‘I want to be honest about this, countess. Your child is alive. But it is already very weak, and lying on its side, its position is wrong. It therefore cannot be born normally and I am afraid there is not enough time to turn it to its proper position.’

  Aaron stood up and took the count aside to where Ottgild could not hear. ‘Count Georg, I have no other option except to use a method which may save the life of the child but endangers the mother’s life. However, if I do nothing, neither will survive. Will I try nevertheless?’

  A painful, shrill scream came from Ottgild as she suffered another contraction. All were shaken to the core.

  ‘For God’s sake, help her, Master Aaron! Do everything you can!’ the count blurted out, beads of sweat on his forehead.

  ‘It is decided then!’ Aaron said and unpacked his instruments. I need as much light as possible. Let every candle that you have be brought.’

  The nurse, an older, level-headed woman, gave the order to a young servant who had been standing unnoticed in a dark corner. The girl ran off.

  ‘Quickly, bring a second water basin!’ Anna called as the chambermaid arrived with water and some towels.

  Anna poured some aqua vitae into the basin, dipped a clean cloth in it and wiped Aaron’s instruments. There were knives and forceps of shining metal in different sizes, which she arranged ready to hand on a cloth.

  Aaron took off his cloak and asked Anna to roll the sleeves of his white tunic up above his
elbows. Anna, too, took off her hooded cloak and put out more cloths. Soon the girl came running back with as many candles as she could carry. Then she hastily arranged them around the bed, lit them from the fire and left the room again.

  ‘The sleep sponge!’ Aaron ordered, then turned and quietly whispered to the count, ‘it will not be a pretty sight. I would prefer if you waited outside.’

  ‘I was present at several battles. I’ve witnessed a lot, Master Aaron,’ the count replied bravely.

  ‘That was different,’ Aaron answered back. ‘This concerns your wife. We will call you when she has come through.’

  Georg von Landskron hesitated briefly, then kissed his wife on her forehead and stood up.

  ‘Make sure nobody comes in,’ Aaron said as he saw him out.

  To the nurse he said: ‘You may stay. I presume you have been present at one or two births?’

  ‘It is not my first and won’t be my last,’ the woman answered.

  Aaron nodded and, like Anna, washed his hands carefully in the aqua vitae and water mixture. Anna had already prepared the sleep sponge. Aaron sat down next to the countess who looked at him both trustingly and anxiously.

  ‘You want to cut the baby out of my stomach, don’t you?’

  Aaron held the sponge under her nose. ‘Breathe in deeply. You will sleep and not feel a thing, I promise you. I have done this several times.’

  Ottgild accepted her fate, closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Aaron removed the sponge only after he had checked that she was no longer conscious by lifting her lids.

  He turned to Anna. ‘We will have to work very fast. There will be a lot of blood and we will have to stitch her up, so get everything ready for that. Above all, put the needles which I gave you in the laboratory into the basin with the aqua vitae. We will have to work hand in hand, quickly and without a break. We must not make a single mistake. You will have to dab away the blood constantly because otherwise I cannot see anything. Have you got everything ready?’

  ‘Yes,’ Anna said and fetched the needles already threaded from the satchel.

  Aaron took the sharpest knife, pushed the shirt of the pregnant mother all the way up to her breasts and made ready to cut across the abdominal wall a hand’s breadth below the navel. He threw another glance at Anna: ‘Ikh hob dos doziker keyn mol nisht geton. Ikh hob lign zogn.’

  Anna didn’t understand a word. But Aaron had probably been talking to himself.

  The medicus slid the knife purposefully over the countess’s abdomen, cutting the first layer of skin carefully and cautiously open.

  Chapter XIV

  The baby, a boy, was crying with all his might when Aaron placed him in Anna’s arms as she stood ready with some cloths. She wiped his face, saw that he looked healthy, smiled at him and wrapped him in the cloths before handing him over to the nurse who immediately began to wash the little creature in a bowl.

  Anna turned to assist Aaron, who was busy stitching up the cut layers of skin. She handed him the needle and thread, and kept wiping and dabbing away blood. She pulled together the inner edges of the wound with two hooks and held them so that Aaron could suture them, wiped off the blood again, cut the thread and made a knot. They moved on to the next set of edges, which she held together while Aaron stitched them, and so on, till he was finished and straightened up, exhausted. Only the smallest amount of blood seeped from the sutured wound which Anna cleaned as best she could.

  The medicus took the dressings and meticulously laid them on the countess’s abdomen.

  Meanwhile Anna, having gathered the dirty and bloodied cloths in a heap, carefully washed herself.

  Aaron bent over the countess and listened for her breathing, placing his ear just above her mouth. Anna and the nurse looked at him anxiously.

  ‘She is alive,’ Aaron said simply. ‘Whether she will survive is another question.’

  Exhausted he sat down on a stool. ‘You acquitted yourself well, Anna,’ he said.

  ‘What was it that you said earlier?’ Anna asked. ‘I didn’t understand it. Was it Hebrew?’

  Aaron got up and led Anna to the door. ‘Come. We have to inform the count.’ He said, ‘He must be greatly worried.’

  At the door, when he was sure the nurse could not hear him, he said softly to Anna: ‘It was Yiddish – and just slipped out. I said: “I am doing this for the first time. I lied earlier.”’

  He looked into her eyes and Anna couldn’t help but smile.

  Then he opened the door and stepped into the antechamber. The servant had disappeared and Chassim was sitting there by himself, tired and with his head in his hands. The count was anxiously pacing the room but stopped when the medicus and Anna came out of the bed chamber, looking at them fearfully and expectantly.

  Aaron said: ‘Give thanks to God, Graf von Landskron. You have a healthy son.’

  The count rushed up to him, and Chassim who had shaken off his stupor also approached.

  Georg von Landskron grabbed Aaron by the shoulders: ‘And my wife? What about my wife?’

  ‘She, too, has survived. But she has lost a lot of blood. Pray that she does not develop a fever, because then all medical skill would be of no avail. You may go in now. Your wife is still drugged. Let her sleep.’

  The count hugged him without saying a word and then hurried into the bed chamber.

  Chassim shook Aaron’s hand. ‘Thank you, medicus.’

  Then he held out his hand to Anna. Only now did Anna realise that she was no longer wearing her protective hooded cloak but was standing before the man she had met in her dreams with a hairstyle of short stubbles standing on her skull like the spines of a hedgehog. She became terribly embarrassed and blushed deeply. But remembering how dark it was in the castle rooms at night and that hopefully he might not notice her hair, she shook his hand.

  ‘I thank you,’ he said sincerely, ‘also in the name of my sister.’ Still holding her hand in his strong grasp, he asked, ‘Tell me your name, please.’

  ‘Anna is my name. Anna from Ahrweiler,’ she replied. She was surprised that she didn’t stutter.

  ‘Thank you, Anna, for coming so quickly.’ At last he let go of her hand and followed his brother-in-law into the bed chamber.

  Aaron closed the door behind them and sat down on a chair. Anna did likewise. Only now did she realise how exhausted she was.

  ‘You can go home now. I have to stay here, at least for the next few hours. In case there are complications,’ Aaron said tiredly, suppressing a yawn.

  ‘I do not think that I will find my way back through that subterranean labyrinth,’ she replied.

  ‘Count Chassim knows the way. He will lead you back.’

  ‘But—’

  The Medicus interrupted her with his finger raised, his most severe gesture, used only when he did not tolerate any dissent: ‘No buts! You have to rest! It is enough if I spend the rest of the night here.’

  He tested the bed that stood in the corner. It had a canopy and heavy curtains on the sides.

  ‘Not all that uncomfortable,’ he said cheerfully and sat down with a deep sigh of relief. ‘Besides, Count Chassim has to go back anyway to fetch his horse. It is better that nobody knows that a Jewish medicus is entering and leaving the count’s apartments. So we are agreed. And do take your satchel back.’

  Anna stood up but was undecided – should she go back into the count’s bed chamber or wait until somebody came out?

  The question was answered when Chassim stepped out, his face beaming.

  ‘My newborn nephew will be called Frederick,’ he said, ‘like our emperor. Come, I shall accompany you back.’

  Anna pointed to Aaron who had fallen asleep already: ‘The medicus wants to stay here in case he is needed. I just want to fetch my cloak and my satchel.’

  She slipped into the bed chamber and packed up the satchel as discreetly as possible. In so doing she glanced shyly at the nurse who was lulling the baby to sleep and at the count who was sitting at his w
ife’s side holding her hand and stroking her hair. He gave Anna a brief thankful smile which she acknowledged equally briefly with a curtsy. Then gathering up the satchel and her cloak, she closed the door gently behind her.

  Chassim went ahead, lighting the way with a torch. Anna followed in her cloak and with the hood over her head.

  When at last they had left the endless spiral stairs behind which, of course, were easier to negotiate on the way down, Chassim stopped and turned around to her. ‘Please try to remember the way as best you can. It is possible that next time you might have to find it on your own.’

  He held the torch in such a way that he could see her face, then hesitated briefly and moved a little closer to her.

  ‘Is it possible that you have different-coloured eyes?’ he asked surprised.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Anna replied more abruptly than she had intended, ‘and you may want to make the sign of the cross if you are scared by it. It is meant to bring bad luck, people say.’

  ‘Please forgive me, I did not mean to offend you.’

  He seemed confused. Then he turned and walked on.

  Anna could have bitten off her tongue. What would Chassim think of her now? His question had only been asked out of curiosity. She secretly chided herself for being a silly goose and concentrated instead on remembering the passage and its branches by counting steps and making a little mark at each turn-off. For this she used a little soot from the burnt-out torch. She found she could remember the main route easily enough because now she knew the direction in which they were going.

  ‘Besides,’ Chassim remarked suddenly from up ahead, ‘I am usually indifferent to what people think. I prefer to form my own opinion.’

  Finally they reached the trapdoor in Aaron’s barn. Chassim held the door open for Anna who, after she had emerged, gently let it click down again. After pushing some straw back over the secret entrance, they brushed the dust off their clothes and briefly stared awkwardly at each other, remembering the night’s events. As dust motes danced in the magic morning light, beaming through the chinks in the wooden walls, Anna reached up and plucked a straw from Chassim’s thick black hair. A fleeting intimate moment passed.