The Apothecary's Secret

by Johanna Geiges

The three women looked at one another anxiously and nodded.

  ‘Don’t have such long faces,’ Aaron said with determination. ‘I can understand that you are not exactly ecstatic. But nobody has died, and things will work out.’

  And so he left the kitchen.

  Chapter XIX

  In his laboratory Aaron began to pack the medicines and books which he absolutely wanted to take with him into exile into a trunk. He had even made a list. But he soon realised that it was pointless. If he wanted to take along everything he had listed he would still be packing when Hanukkah came round. He was just lamenting this when Anna entered.

  ‘I do not have much time left,’ he said as he scratched his head and spread his arms in a gesture of helplessness. ‘But look at this here . . . I cannot possibly take along everything I ought. I have spent a lifetime assembling all these things but now I think it is best if I only pack a few books and some personal items and leave the rest here. Otherwise I will need three wagons instead of one.’

  He sat down resignedly. ‘It may be even better if I part with everything. The less we carry with us the easier the journey will be.’

  Anna sat down opposite him and looked at him full of concern.

  ‘Are you angry with me?’ he asked her. ‘I know that I did take you by surprise and decide over your head without consulting you. But time is short.’

  ‘I doubt that I can guess the consequences of your decision, master, and I have to say that I find it difficult to understand it,’ Anna replied.

  ‘I know, Anna, I know,’ Aaron said and rubbed his face wearily. ‘But there is no other option.’

  ‘You are certainly better able than I to gauge the political situation,’ Anna said. ‘But there is one thing that I would like to know. You are under the count’s protection. So surely he cannot allow what the archbishop wishes to happen in his county.’

  ‘It is a very simple calculation,’ Aaron explained. ‘A calculation that every warlord must make before going into battle. And the count is an experienced warlord who will not put the lives of his soldiers at risk needlessly if he can gauge beforehand that his enemy is numerically far superior. And Konrad von Hochstaden is exactly that kind of enemy. Thanks to his power and especially his wealth, he can assemble a huge army at short notice. I do not know how many knights and noblemen with their soldiers are bound to him if as their feudal lord he summons them to his service in time of war. But in any case he has enough men at his disposal to lay siege to Landskron Castle and conquer it or starve it into submission. Would it be wise for the count to take such a chance if he knew from the outset how matters would end?’

  ‘But what about the king? And how about the emperor?’

  ‘Alas, Anna, the king is only a puppet in this play. He depends on the good will of the princes who are on his side. And he does not have any more soldiers than those you have seen at his entry into Oppenheim. Fairweather soldiers, let me tell you! You cannot wage war with flag wavers and herald trumpeters. Or do you seriously believe that Emperor Frederick would hurry from Sicily to the far north with a massive army just because his son asked him for help?’

  Anna shook her head helplessly. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘There you are. Count Georg von Landskron does not risk everything just to help a few hundred Jews, even I can understand that. The cards are stacked against him because he has sided with the Staufers and has sworn an oath of fealty to the emperor. But this emperor has been excommunicated by the Pope, and as a consequence no prince is any longer bound to him by oaths of fealty. They can change sides anytime. Count Landskron will not do so but many others will.’

  Feeling downcast and depressed, Anna stood up. ‘Hence the Jewish community of Oppenheim will cease to exist sooner or later.’

  ‘Yes, the rabbi has given up hope that the situation will change. He certainly will advise his community to emigrate. Most of them are likely to move east, beyond the boundaries of the realm.’ Aaron sighed heavily.

  ‘For as long as I can remember there have been rumours about riots and assaults. I blame myself. I should have been better prepared for those rumours becoming reality. But human beings are weak and lazy, and always think that things will work out. And now all hope is gone, and I have to leave my native country for the second time. But moaning and lamenting does not help and all the ifs and buts – all nebbish.’

  He jumped up. ‘Before we go I must quickly show you everything that I had meant to teach you gradually over the next few years. This is of course lunacy but it would be a pity if, for example, you were not able to use my distillation apparatus because you were never shown. There is also the large collection of rare and expensive medicines that I have never used but which may yet prove most effective and helpful. Where should we start?’

  Aaron and Anna spent the whole night in the laboratory. Anna had to acquaint herself with all the equipment, instruments, medicines and books that she had not yet used in the three months she had spent with Aaron. Blessed with a quick mind and a good memory, she could absorb a lot. Nevertheless, she took many notes, especially regarding the mixing ratios and amounts of the different herbs, roots, flowers and other ingredients. She wrote down when and how she was to plant and harvest the native plants and those only supplied by traders from far-away countries of which Anna had not even heard. Aaron also gave her the names and places of residence of those traders. The medicus had written down most of the formulae that he had developed himself but this book was one of the few possessions that he wanted to take on his long journey to Castile.

  With her head buzzing with names, figures, amounts, weights and prices, Anna went to bed as day was dawning.

  After a short sleep Anna spent the day in the barn helping to load the wagon and getting everything ready for their departure. Rebecca introduced her to a young maid whom she had known for a long time and befriended. Her name was Berbelin and she would be able to start working with Anna in two days’ time, as her former employer had died. Berbelin was not only shy and retiring but also dumb. She could only make herself understood with signs and gestures, but Anna liked her from the outset.

  At last, when the sun had set, the wagon was hitched to the two draught horses inside the barn. Nobody was to see what was happening in the house of the medicus. At last Aaron made a final round with Anna, Esther and Rebecca, firstly to see if they had forgotten anything important and secondly to remove and pack with all due respect the mezuzot, the scripture capsules which had been fixed to every doorpost according to ancient Jewish custom. It was more than a ritual act. Aaron performed this ceremony with devotion and feeling, as it was the last act in their old home. Esther blew her nose suspiciously often, but Rebecca, not uttering a sound, allowed her tears to flow freely.

  As soon as Aaron had removed the last mezuzah, he turned to Anna: ‘I have one more wish, Anna Ahrweiler. And you must not deny it to me under any circumstances.’

  ‘Just tell me and I will if I am able,’ Anna answered.

  ‘Oh yes,’ the medicus replied. ‘It is easy to fulfil. You are not to accompany us to the boat. Do me that favour and let’s not have a big farewell scene. Otherwise all our hearts will break. Parting is hard enough for us as it is.’

  Esther was the first to fling her arms around Anna’s neck and she hugged her as if she wanted to fracture her ribs. ‘God bless you, my child,’ she said with a suppressed sob, turned away and climbed onto the coach box.

  Next Rebecca embraced her and wet Anna’s shoulders with her tears. She could not bear looking into Anna’s eyes any more and followed Esther onto the wagon.

  Now only Aaron stood there. He opened his arms like wings and Anna practically flew to him. She could no longer hold back her tears and sobbed uncontrollably. Aaron stroked her hair and whispered unintelligible Yiddish words that sounded like a blessing. Then he detached himself from her, gave her a last fatherly kiss on the forehead and climbed onto the coach box.

  Anna was glad she had to busy herself
at that moment. She peeped through a chink in the barn door to see whether anybody was about. Except for a few bats flying around the courtyard there was nothing to be seen. Anna pushed open one side of the door and then the other which creaked softly.

  She stepped aside as Aaron clicked his tongue and shook the reins lightly. The horses started forward and slowly the heavy covered wagon began to move. For the last time the medicus and Anna looked at each other and she curtseyed to him. Why, she didn’t know.

  The women waved and she waved back and looked after the wagon until it rumbled through the courtyard entrance out into the night and was swallowed up in the darkness. Anna waited until she could not hear the sound of the wagon any more before she turned around and closed the barn doors.

  Would she ever see the medicus again?

  When she came back into the kitchen she had to sit down first as fear and panic rose up in her. She stood up and prepared a strong sleeping draught for herself. She was so upset that she knew that she would just keep brooding and not sleep a wink. Back at the table she drank the draught sip by sip and listened.

  How quiet it was in the house with just the odd creak of the old woodwork to be heard.

  Eventually she got up, checked again that the door was locked and went to her room. There she lay down and waited, inert, for sleep to come.

  But the only thing that came were tears.

  PART III

  Chapter I

  The archbishop was pleased with himself. His policy against the Jews had been successful. Under the pretext of wanting to protect them he had issued an emigration order that was already showing results. Numerous Jewish families were about to leave the country.

  The archbishop was alone in the sombre crypt below the abbey church at Heisterbach, which was feebly lit by a wall torch. He was surrounded by his long-dead predecessors, abbots and bishops who had found their final resting place in splendid stone sarcophagi. The crypt was of such enormous proportions that between its columns and in its numerous recesses dozens more bishops after him would find a place to await their resurrection. It was his preferred place of reflection at Heisterbach for here he was undisturbed.

  Only he, Father Antonius and Father Sixtus whom he had elevated to abbot, knew of the secret access point in the choir stalls behind the choir screen. A secret door disguised as a panel the height of a man folded back when a hidden lever next to the carved statue of the founder was pulled. From there, stone steps led down into the vaulted crypt which had been cut out of the bedrock. Though it smelled musty and mouldy, he didn’t mind. He loved the feeling of being a link in an uninterrupted chain of God’s high priests reaching back into the dark past. He knew that God had given him the authority and charged him with a mission to lead the Church to a glorious future and make it mightier than ever before for His glory.

  There was only one thing that made Konrad von Hochstaden regularly stop and ponder, and that was his own limited time here on earth. It really was too short for the huge undertaking he had planned. Like every mortal he knew his life was limited, of course, but what would he not give to witness not only the laying of the foundation stone of Cologne Cathedral but also its completion! Stupor mundi, the amazement of the world, would no longer be the title of the Staufer emperor alone but would also pass to him, the creator of the most magnificent cathedral in the entire Christian world. In this way his name would be engraved in the memory of humankind for ever.

  The model of his cathedral, for that is how he thought of it, now stood in the reception hall of the abbot’s quarters, which he requisitioned whenever he stayed at Heisterbach. This he did more frequently of late because in the remote monastery he was undisturbed and could reflect and plan. Master Gerhard von Rile, who had made designs according to his plans and who would supervise the construction of the cathedral had recently brought along and explained the model. There was still time before the ceremony of the laying of the foundation stone, a ceremony that Konrad von Hochstaden would ensure would be the most triumphant of his earthly career.

  The cathedral as he saw it would be one worthy to house the world’s greatest relic, one which his diocese already possessed, and which he himself had often admired with awe and wonder and touched with a blissful shudder: the golden shrine with the embalmed remains of the Three Wise Men. This most holy of all relics had been a present from Emperor Frederick I Barbarossa, and was brought to Cologne from Milan in the year 1164 by his predecessor, Archbishop and Chancellor Rainald von Dassel. It was something that would guarantee for all time a never-ending stream of pilgrims and money to his new cathedral. But first, some fundamentals needed to be in place. Only when a suitable pope and king were installed by his favour would he himself be ready to have a monument in stone built to ensure his own immortal place in the annals of history.

  The archbishop climbed up the stairs again and pushed the lever to swing open the secret door.

  He locked the access to the crypt from the outside and walked into the altar space, made the sign of the cross, and with arms spread wide in full regalia, prostrated himself in front of the altar to pray. Gradually his spirit drifted into a different sphere. This was his way of getting in contact with God, his Lord, as if he were leaving his mortal body and allowing his soul to soar heavenwards up to the delicate vaulting above the altar, effortlessly and light like a feather.

  Looking down on his prostrate body from the ceiling, he felt that he was looking at a fallen angel. From up there he looked like an angel after his descent into hell. Was this to be his destiny? That because of his ambition to be like God he would one day descend to hell, as it says in the words of the Prophet Isaiah, 14.12: ‘How you are fallen from heaven, O Day Star, son of Dawn! How you are cut down to the ground, you who laid the nations low! You said in your heart, “I will ascend to heaven; above the stars of God I will set my throne on high; I will sit on the mount of assembly in the far north; I will ascend above the heights of the clouds, I will make myself like the Most High.” But you are brought down to Sheol, to the depths of the Pit.’ A terrible trembling seized Konrad von Hochstaden and he feared for his salvation, body and soul. In a truly terrible moment of insight, God had granted him an awareness of his ultimate damnation.

  Just then he became aware in some remote part of his consciousness of the sound of a heavenly choir. Slowly Konrad von Hochstaden returned from his vision to reality. It had to be the music of Father Ambrosius and his novices who had begun choir practice in the nave of the abbey church. Hearing the bright, pure voices after his sombre vision seemed to him like an unexpected sign from God of the forgiveness of his sins, and like a preview of his life in the heavenly Paradise. He would gain by his deeds here on earth an eternity at one with the Holy Trinity, and of this he was now certain.

  On the way to Landskron Castle Anna crossed the market square in Oppenheim. For the past month on her own she had been fulfilling her duties as a healer, and the transition from a famula to a medica had not been easy. She had lost many of Aaron’s patients who did not trust her to follow in the footsteps of the medicus. Nevertheless, she threw herself into the work with enthusiasm. At night she would lie exhausted in Aaron’s former bed chamber where she had moved after his flight from Oppenheim. This was twice the size of her old room and had the space for a table which she had hauled up with Berbelin’s help on which to study the massive tomes which the medicus had left her. Every free evening she had, she would sit down by candlelight at the table and leaf through them systematically. Her plans were ambitious, and sometimes she simply fell asleep over the texts. Then she would dream of her knight, Sir Chassim . . .

  Her maid Berbelin was now lodged in her former chamber. She had fitted in well and Anna liked her quiet, unobtrusive but thorough manner. Berbelin was hardworking, could shop independently at the market and was a good cook. They communicated by signs. Many folk thought that she had been cursed by God and that because she was dumb, somehow she was stupid. But Berbelin was no fool and she could read a li
ttle, having been taught by her mother before her death.

  However it was proving impossible for Anna to find a good and reliable manservant principally because of rumours that there were strange goings-on in the house. So for the time being Anna had to do without having a man around, although she found it increasingly difficult. She felt safe enough because everybody knew she was untouchable as long as she had the special protection of the Count of Landskron. But rumours could quickly take on a life of their own, especially where a nondescript young woman skilled in the use of herbs and poisons was concerned, and one who, moreover, had been trained by a dubious Jewish medicus. These suspicions were strengthened by people such as the castle chaplain who, as the countess well knew, specialised in spreading rumours. In addition, Anna had no friends among her competitors, the barbers and miracle healers of the marketplace. A few of their well-to-do clients had been enticed away because they had heard that her healing methods, like those of the medicus, were quite effective and less painful. They had failed in their attempt to get the count to stop her working, so now they watched eagerly for her to make a mistake that they could use against her.

  At first, of course, the patients bombarded Anna with questions about the medicus’ whereabouts. She had expected this, and told whoever wanted to know that the medicus had decided of his own free will to move to warmer, more southern regions for reasons of health as the cold northern climate was affecting him.

  The exodus of the Jews from Oppenheim following the archbishop’s emigration decree that Count Landskron had predicted proceeded quickly and efficiently. Wagon convoys carrying Jewish families and all their chattels moved east from the city, leaving the Jewish quarter abandoned.

  Anna had heard that most of the Jews had to sell their houses for a song because it was impossible to find anyone willing to pay what their homes and land were really worth. In this way many well-to-do citizens profited considerably at the expense of the Jewish community and added greatly to their own holdings.