The Apothecary's Secret

by Johanna Geiges

  Perhaps this was intended to provoke Anna but she would not do him the favour. Remaining cool and composed she replied: ‘Thank you for your offer, your reverence. I may take you up on it someday. But now please excuse me: you have your duties, and I have mine – my patients are waiting.’

  ‘In that case I will not detain you any longer. God be with you, Miss Anna . . .’

  He smiled but his eyes stayed cold. Anna nodded to him and hurried past, her satchel thrown over her shoulder. She knew his eyes were following her and she forced herself not to run but walk to the drawbridge with her head high until at last she was out of his sight.

  Chapter XVIII

  Aaron and Anna waited until after dark before setting off with two torches on their arduous journey to the castle through the secret passages beneath Oppenheim. As was often the case of late, Aaron was silent. This time Anna walked ahead and the medicus followed.

  Anna had chosen a rapid pace and turned around ever so often to make sure Aaron did not lag behind. Unerringly she found the right path to the foundations of the keep, and only once or twice was she unsure whether she had taken the right passage. But the soot marks she had made while returning with Chassim after the countess’s delivery fulfilled their purpose and guided them safely. They started the strenuous climb up the stairs and when at last they reached the top, they quenched their torches, hurried across the bridge and peered cautiously down the corridor leading to the count’s chambers.

  Wall torches lit the way. There was nobody to be seen. The count had made sure that there was nobody on the top floor, not even a valet. The guard, too, had been ordered down, and even the nurse sitting outside the count’s bed chamber had been dismissed. From the great hall on the ground floor music and casual laughter occasionally reached them.

  Anna knocked on the door but there was no answer. Then Aaron knocked. Still not hearing anything, they entered uncertainly and cautiously. The room was lit by candlelight but there was nobody there. Aaron and Anna sat down to wait.

  Time passed, and they heard the midnight bell strike. A short time later one of the many doors opened and the count and his wife entered wearing festive dress. They looked grave despite the happy occasion that they had been celebrating with their guests in the hall. With a nod of the head they greeted Aaron and Anna who had stood up as they came in, and they returned the greeting with a bow and curtsey.

  ‘Thank you for your visit, Master Aaron,’ the count said. ‘Please excuse the delay but as you know we are celebrating the christening of our son today and we have guests. We had to stay long enough so as not to arouse suspicion. Please sit down.’

  He then led Ottgild to the bed.

  Aaron said: ‘Please excuse me, count, but should I not look after your wife first? She must be tired and in need of sleep.’

  ‘Do not worry about me,’ Ottgild said from the bed. ‘I would like to hear this conversation. It also concerns me, and I would be obliged if you would now remove the stitches. They are beginning to pinch and itch.’

  ‘That is a good sign, countess,’ Aaron replied, ‘as it means that the healing process is well advanced. Permit me, please . . .’

  He nodded to Anna and opened the satchel that she had brought. Anna carefully pushed the countess’s tunic up all the way to below her breasts and removed the linen dressing while Aaron took a scissors and a tweezers from the satchel. He took a candle, examined the sutured wound carefully and asked: ‘Does the wound still cause pain?’

  Ottgild shook her head.

  Aaron palpated her entire abdomen. ‘Tell me if it hurts.’

  The countess remained silent.

  At last Aaron got up and turned to the count. ‘Count von Landskron, I am happy to inform you that in my opinion your wife has almost fully recovered.’

  During the medicus’ examination the count had brought more candles to the bed and lit them with an ember from the fire.

  Aaron handed Anna the scissors and tweezers. ‘Anna will remove the stitches. My eyes are too weak now to see well enough by candlelight. You will feel a little twitch but that will be the end of it once and for all.’

  Anna proceeded carefully and methodically. She cut and pulled as gently as possible, taking the greatest care that the least little bit of thread not be left behind in the scar that had started to form. Aaron watched over her shoulder and held a candle for her. At last Aaron handed her some ointment, which she finished by putting on the fresh scar tissue.

  Anna had started to pack up when the count pushed two chairs to the bed and sat down also.

  ‘Now we must talk,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, count, we need to do that,’ Aaron replied as he sat down on a chair.

  Anna, assuming that a serious conversation was in the offing, moved to leave as unobtrusively as possible. ‘I will be waiting outside,’ she said softly.

  Aaron grasped her wrist and stopped her. ‘You are staying here. It also concerns you. Sit down.’

  Anna was surprised by the peremptory tone.

  It is going to be a very serious conversation, so, she thought, and a grave suspicion took hold of her. As she had always known, nothing would stay the way it was.

  The count asked Aaron: ‘Have you been to see the rabbi?’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ Aaron said.

  ‘And what is his opinion?’

  ‘He has expressed the same suspicion as you.’

  ‘Is it that serious?’

  ‘Worse. Much worse. I am afraid it will not be much longer.’

  ‘How much time do you think remains?’

  ‘Ten days, perhaps a fortnight, no more.’

  Anna followed the conversation with the greatest attention and realised that, unknown to her, the count and her medicus must have been in constant contact with each other. Perhaps they were exchanging messages. But how? That would be so dangerous, as they could be intercepted and end up in the wrong hands.

  The count looked gravely at his wife and Anna. ‘One thing you must know: there is every chance that the rumour of an imminent attack on the Jews is true and could become a reality very quickly. The signs are increasing, and the resentment among the people is being stirred up in countless sermons all over the country. One spark is enough for the arsonists to have achieved what they were hoping for. Once the Jewish quarter is burning it quickly becomes a conflagration that cannot be extinguished. There is no calming that rage once it gets out of control. No arguments or reasonable words will be of any use anymore.’

  ‘I know,’ Aaron replied, ‘I have experienced it once before. That is why I will prepare myself in time, before it is too late.’

  ‘What . . . do you mean?’ Anna cautiously dared to ask.

  ‘We will get to that shortly, Anna,’ Aaron said, patting her hand. Then he turned back to the count. ‘I presume it is unnecessary to ask who is behind all this?’

  The count smiled grimly and nodded. ‘Yes, I also have my informants, just like the opposition.’ He continued resignedly. ‘His grace, the archbishop, is a shrewd tactician. He stirs up unrest wherever he can. And trust me: in that art he is a master. The initially covert and now blatant clerical tirades against the Jews did not come out of nowhere. But meanwhile I have further information that shows von Hochstaden now operates even more cunningly. First he stirs up the fear of an attack. And then, under the pretext of protecting the Jews from the just anger of the people, he will order all Jews to emigrate within seven days. The archbishop will issue this order within a week, of this I am sure, as I have it from an absolutely reliable source. The possessions and all the assets of the Jews will then be confiscated by the Church. This is the price that people have to pay to save their skins. Isn’t that generous of his grace?’

  Aaron shook his head in disgust.

  The count continued: ‘I have learned that the archbishop wants to lay the foundation stone of a massive church in Cologne. For this he needs money, lots of money. From what we hear reported it is destined to become the bigges
t cathedral in Christendom. A monument in stone to his glory.’

  ‘That of the archbishop or of God?’ added Aaron with bitter mockery.

  ‘Probably both,’ the count replied.

  There was a brief pause, and though Anna had several questions she was itching to ask, the medicus continued: ‘Well, it is all the same to me. Under no circumstances will I wait until it pleases his grace to issue this order.’

  He took a deep breath.

  ‘I am afraid, count, that I will now have to come back to the generous offer that you made to me during the night of your wife’s delivery. May I ask whether it still stands?’

  Immediately Ottgild put in, ‘Whatever you ask for shall be granted if it is in our power. We are deeply indebted to you.’

  The count nodded in agreement. ‘That is correct. What can I do for you?’

  Aaron stood up purposefully: ‘I will leave Oppenheim for good – and very soon, too.’

  At this sentence, which she had anticipated with increasing trepidation since the beginning of the conversation, Anna’s heart skipped a beat. But before she could think or say anything the medicus continued: ‘My request is as follows. You acquire my house and all its contents for a fair price except for a few private items which I will take with me. My sister and my maid will leave with me; I have already discussed this with them. You allow Anna to use the house and she will continue my work there for as long as she wishes. That is all.’

  He paced up and down as he spoke. Now he stood still and waited for a reply.

  Anna wanted to say something but she felt as if her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She knew that when the medicus spoke with such conviction any objection was in vain. No pleas would dissuade him. The finality of his decision to appoint her as his successor came as a shock, as did the realisation that she was to lose her beloved mentor.

  ‘Wait, there is something else,’ Aaron said and put his hand on Anna’s shoulder. ‘I beseech you to keep an eye on Anna Ahrweiler. She will be treated with hostility by people from all quarters: by competitors, because she trained with a Jewish medicus and uses different methods from those commonly applied, and by the Church, which does not acknowledge our art. Without your express protection she cannot practice as a medica. Can you guarantee this?’

  The count walked over to the medicus and took his hand. ‘You have my word of honour as Count of Landskron. Everything will be done as you wish. It is with great regret that I hear of your decision to leave us. Please rest assured that my wife and I have the highest regard for you and your work.’

  Aaron took a deep breath. ‘So then there is no more to be said. Thank you for your kindness and I wish you God’s blessing. Shalom.’

  He bowed to the count and his wife and with Anna left their rooms and the palas the same way as they had come.

  Aaron and Anna walked on to the house in silence. Aaron went ahead with his torch, and carrying the satchel, Anna followed him through the subterranean passages. Questions were flashing through her head. Why would the count not do anything to oppose the archbishop’s plans? Whereto did Aaron want to flee with his sister and Rebecca? Why would Aaron not wait to see whether public opinion would turn against the Jews; why would he give up his secure existence for an insecure future? God knows he was not exactly young any more and would have to start again from nothing, possibly in a foreign land with a foreign language. And what about herself? How could she shoulder anything like the enormous workload that Aaron dealt with all alone, day after day? How was she to cope with such opponents as the chaplain, or even the archbishop?

  She was so upset that, not watching her step, she stumbled over a stone and fell headlong on the ground. Aaron stopped and turned around.

  ‘Is everything alright?’ he asked worriedly.

  ‘No, nothing is alright. Nothing at all!’ she shouted. She felt like crying. ‘But you just keep going and I will follow you, I don’t have much choice,’ she added grimly and got up again. Lifting the torch off the ground, she stomped angrily behind him. Her knee was hurting but right then there was no way she would have admitted it. She was too proud for that.

  It was only much later when she was lying in bed in her own room with the candle flickering that she gradually calmed down.

  Once again my future is written in the stars, she thought. No, it was not really that bad. The medicus had done everything in his power to help her have a life such as she could never have imagined in her wildest dreams. She was under the protection of the Count of Landskron, this he had pledged. She could only hope that the count by his loyalty to the king would somehow manage to maintain his power; otherwise, she was lost. Moreover, many of Aaron’s patients would go elsewhere, as they would not have the same trust in a young woman as they had in the medicus. Difficulties were piling up, and every new thought formed a massive mountain which she would never be able to climb.

  But didn’t the medicus once say: ‘It is your destiny to be a medica’? The more she thought about that the more convinced she was. Not one in a thousand, certainly not one woman in a thousand, was offered such an opportunity. She only had to take it and do the work. She was able for that and she would do it, step by step.

  And Aaron? He would not be here much longer, and this overshadowed any feeling of happiness. She owed everything to him. To him and to God.

  Perhaps it was time to ask her Creator to forgive her for all the doubts and quarrels she had had with him. She sincerely regretted them and truly repented.

  For the first time in a long time she began to talk to God. But again she had a feeling that her prayer was a rather one-sided affair, not only because there was no answer, but because afterwards she didn’t feel strengthened or consoled as she once did in the past. Nevertheless she prayed for the strength to face the tasks ahead and for the medicus’ safety, and she also remembered her parents. She prayed with a pure heart and her sincerity was deep and genuine. She would need strength, superhuman strength, like the time she almost drowned or when she thought she had been infected with leprosy. Or . . .

  Suddenly she yawned, turned over, and fell asleep.

  The next morning they all sat at breakfast together: Aaron, Anna, Esther and Rebecca. They did not talk as they ate their bread, cheese, milk and porridge. Then Aaron broke the silence.

  ‘She has been told,’ he said suddenly and laconically.

  Esther and Rebecca looked up from their plates, surprised.

  ‘She found out last night.’

  Esther and Rebecca exchanged worried glances.

  Calmly Anna continued eating.

  ‘So everything happened as you had hoped with the count?’ Esther asked her brother.

  ‘Yes, and he has accepted all the conditions without reservation,’ Aaron nodded.

  ‘Did you fear that he might not keep his word?’ Esther continued.

  Aaron shrugged his shoulders resignedly: ‘One can never know. How many of our patients have not settled their bills?’

  ‘I reckon . . . about one in five.’

  Aaron shrugged. It seemed that was what he had expected, and he sipped his cup of milk. ‘Gratefulness is like milk,’ he muttered, ‘it does not keep for long.’

  He turned to Anna. ‘You must chase after the payment for your work and medicines like the devil chases good souls. I emphasize “good” souls, not poor souls.’

  As Esther rolled her eyes, Aaron raised his hands. ‘God forgive me the comparison, but the work of a medica is also a business. If you have only half the patients I have, you should make a good living. Get yourself a reliable assistant and a housemaid whom you can trust. They are not easy to find, believe me. You cannot carry out the treatments all on your own.’

  He leaned back.

  ‘Did you ever notice that you never stop lecturing Anna? She will manage alright, I am sure of it,’ Esther said and patted Anna’s cheek the way her mother used to when she was a child.

  Anna was surprised at how much confidence was shown h
er after such a short time. She put down her spoon and asked the question that had been on her mind all along: ‘Will you tell me where you are going to go, or is it a secret?’

  Aaron wiped his lips with a cloth before he answered. ‘I have a cousin in a faraway land where the same laws apply to all religions. We write to each other annually. There is a trader here in Oppenheim who regularly receives goods from there and he handles the letters. My cousin lives in a city where apparently, Christians, Jews and Moors all live and work together peacefully. The Christians have their church, the Moors their mosque and the Jews their synagogue. Everyone can practise their religion without encountering hatred, hostility or even displeasure.’

  ‘Sounds like the heavenly Jerusalem,’ said Anna with a deep sigh. ‘Where is this city supposed to be?’

  ‘In Castile. Its name is Toledo. Moreover, my cousin writes that it is considerably warmer there than here in Oppenheim,’ Aaron said and smiled.

  ‘How long will it take you to get there?’

  ‘Oh, I do not think that we will travel overland. We will take a boat with all our belongings and travel down the Rhine to Nimwegen. There we will look for a ship that will take us to Hispania. Once there, we will see. I reckon it will take us three to four months to get there.’

  ‘And when do you plan to leave?’

  ‘As soon as we have concluded business here and everything has been documented and sealed. The Count of Landskron has assured me that everything will be done very quickly. The boat will be ready two days from today. I know the captain and he still owes me a favour.’

  Aaron stood up. Suddenly he was his old self again, Anna thought, as far as his energy and absolute determination were concerned.

  ‘Until then we have much to do. But above all there is one thing I want you to take to heart: don’t speak a word to anybody! Do you understand?’