The Apothecary's Secret

by Johanna Geiges

  The archbishop’s plans seemed to be working perfectly. Anna was both saddened and outraged, and feared that she, too, would soon become a victim as there was nothing she could do to defend herself against her reputation among the common people for witchcraft and miracle-working.

  Ever since Aaron had moved away Anna sensed that she was being followed and watched. Whenever she stepped out of a house while she was visiting patients in the city, a figure who seemed to have been waiting in the shadows across the road or hiding in some entrance would disappear. She could never recognise who it was as the pursuer was always too fast. When one day it got too much for her she ran in pursuit but lost him in the contorted maze of lanes. Panting, she ended up in a small square from which several lanes branched off and just managed to glimpse the end of a black cloak disappearing around the corner. When she went after it, it had already disappeared around another corner. Maybe she was only imagining all this? Shaking her head, she turned back, thinking that one day soon she would surely catch him. All the same Anna decided to be even more careful in future. In any case she was sure that her shadow was not Gero von Hochstaden, who had nearly ridden her down the day of the king’s arrival. She had not seen him since, so he had probably been part of the royal retinue and had moved on with it weeks earlier. She had visited Ottgild and the child so often that were Gero still in Landskron Castle, she was sure to have encountered him by now. Moreover, she did not think that after such a long time he would still remember her, because as far as he was concerned, Brother Marian had drowned and was gone for ever.

  Full of guilt, she had to think of her parents again. What had really happened to them? How could she possibly find out?

  Suddenly she was jolted back to reality by a sweaty and upset young boy who came running towards her from a side lane, crying: ‘Medica, please! Come quickly! You must help!’

  Before she could say anything the boy, who was perhaps fourteen years old, had taken her hand and pulled her after him. She was led into a courtyard with a well where a largish crowd of people had gathered. They were standing around a weeping young woman and a despairing man who was dripping wet and before whom a child of about four or five years lay lifelessly on the ground.

  As soon as the man saw her, he came towards her wringing his hands. ‘Medica!’ he said, ‘the Lord must have sent you! You are the only one that might be able to help now! My daughter fell into the well while playing. I have just managed to get her out, but she is not breathing any longer!’

  Anna did not hesitate for a moment but knelt down beside the girl’s lifeless body and put her ear to her chest. All the bystanders stared at Anna. Since the miraculous rescue of the countess and her baby was still the talk of the city, people expected Anna as the successor of the medicus to be able to perform similar wonders.

  ‘How long has she been in the water?’ Anna asked.

  ‘I am not sure – not for very long,’ came the answer from the father who was visibly confused.

  Anna lifted up the body of the child by the waist and turned her on her side. Immediately the girl vomited a stream of water, coughed and started to cry. The gaping spectators moved back reverently as if they had just seen a miracle performed. Anna, of course, had done nothing special. For some reason, the girl had been brought back to life by the movement and that was a miracle indeed, though a divine one.

  While the mother, hugely relieved, held the girl in her arms, Anna took care of any scratches the little one had suffered and refused to accept the reward the distraught father offered her. She guessed that to the onlookers it must have seemed as if she was a miracle healer who by placing her hand on a dead child could bring it back to life. No doubt an account of the incident would quickly spread around the city, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  As quickly as she could, she left the scene and continued on her way to the castle, where the countess was waiting for her.

  Chapter II

  Gero von Hochstaden was at Landskron sitting impatiently in the castle chapel confessional waiting for the chaplain. They had arranged to meet at the same time once a week so that the chaplain could keep him informed about the secret happenings in the count’s court. Much to his disappointment, however, Gero had to be absent from the castle for a prolonged period because he was due to accompany the count on a circuit to visit barons and knights and friendly princes. But as soon as he learned that the purpose of the round trip was to invite them as guests to a tournament at Landskron Castle, he saw it as an auspicious opportunity to identify some supporters of the Staufer party by name and so inform his uncle.

  At one point earlier, Gero had become discontented when nothing seemed to be happening. He had conveyed to his uncle via his companions Lutz and Oswald that he wanted to return home, but had received strict orders to stick to his task. Not only that, but the archbishop emphasised in his letter that Gero’s intelligence was of the utmost importance, and he held out the prospect of the income of the county of Overstolz as a reward for such valuable services. Landgrave Dietrich von Overstolz was hopelessly indebted to Konrad von Hochstaden and his estates consequently had been mortgaged. This prospect fired Gero’s flagging ambition anew, not only because he was flattered by his uncle’s appreciation, but because he welcomed the income from these estates, which would make him less dependent on his uncle’s goodwill.

  That very moment the door of the confessional opened and the castle chaplain entered and sat behind the latticed screen, closing the door. As usual a cloud of incense and myrrh drifted in with him as if he had been imbued in it from head to toe.

  ‘Do you wish to confess, my son?’ he began in an unctuous priestly tone.

  Gero replied: ‘I have sinned, Father.’

  The chaplain continued loudly and all too clearly: ‘The Lord be in your heart and on your lips so that you may know yourself in His light.’

  Gero made the sign of the cross, murmuring: ‘In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.’

  Since the chaplain kept to the prescribed confessional ritual, Gero knew that they were not alone in the chapel. Therefore he lowered his voice to a whisper, ‘I was just in the bathhouse and committed fornication with a pretty maid,’ he confessed. There could be no harm in receiving absolution right away, he thought.

  ‘How often?’

  ‘Several times.’

  ‘Did you pay her for it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you repent?’

  The answer came hesitantly, but confession was confession and therefore Gero said: ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘With all your heart?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Then they heard the heavy wooden door outside close.

  The chaplain breathed a sigh of relief, but for the sake of the ritual continued: ‘Alright. Anything else?’

  ‘No, nothing else.’

  ‘For your penance say the Lord’s Prayer three times. Go in peace,’ the chaplain announced and hastily made the sign of the cross. ‘Ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis. In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.’

  ‘Amen.’ Gero waited briefly before he whispered: ‘I have been away for a long time. How are things – have you got any news for me?’

  ‘I certainly do,’ the chaplain said. ‘Come with me!’

  He opened the door of the confessional and cautiously scanned the chapel. Gero followed, looking at him quizzically. The chaplain was already hurrying ahead through the empty chapel to the narrow stairs which led to a gallery with a direct view of the altar and which was normally used only by the count and his wife. Through a locked door in the gallery one could reach the private rooms on the top floor of the palas via several corridors. The chaplain fingered a key which he had taken from a pocket in his soutane. Before unlocking the door he turned to Gero who was standing behind him.

  ‘You may never tell about the corridor through which I will now lead you. It is wrong for me and could cost me an arm and a leg if it became known. The same goes for you.
Do you understand?’

  The chaplain looked him sternly in the eye.

  Gero shrugged his shoulders. ‘No need to emphasise it,’ he said. ‘I am well aware of the dangers of our conspiracy.’

  The chaplain nodded but still did not open the door. ‘During your absence I have made the acquaintance of a person who has constant access to the count and his wife.’

  ‘Yes . . . ?’

  ‘This person could be of great use to you and to your uncle, especially when it comes to bringing about the downfall of the von Landskron family.’

  ‘And who is this person?’

  ‘Somebody who seems suspicious to me. Somebody who is hiding something, of that I am sure. If we could puzzle out what it is, then his grace would have what it takes to bring down the Count von Landskron without bloodshed.’

  ‘You are talking in riddles.’

  ‘It is a riddle for me, too. But I will now introduce you to this person who, at this very moment, is most likely in the countess’ rooms. Perhaps you know the person in question and can solve the riddle.’

  With these words the chaplain opened the door, followed Gero into the corridor behind it and carefully relocked the door. The passage was feebly lit by daylight which fell through narrow window slits and ended at stairs leading all the way to the top floor. The chaplain hurried up with Gero behind him and entered the corridor on the top floor of the palas. After a few steps he stopped, turned to Gero and whispered: ‘We are now on the same floor as the count’s rooms. We cannot be heard. Nevertheless it is safer to be quiet. This young woman who calls herself a medica is a certain Anna from Ahrweiler – have you ever met her?’

  Gero shook his head. ‘No. I do not know her.’

  ‘She should be here now. Come, I will point her out to you.’

  ‘How can you do this without her seeing me?’

  ‘There is a device in the corridor which serves to make sure that nobody is in the rooms who is not supposed to be there. A predecessor of the present count had it installed at one time, but today nobody really knows about it and I have only recently learned of its existence. One of the countess’ chambermaids told me.’

  A crooked smile crept across Gero’s lips. ‘During confession?’

  The chaplain cast a conspiratorial glance at Gero. ‘If it serves a higher purpose, there are exceptions to the rule.’

  ‘Even when it comes to the secret of confession?’

  ‘I am not breaking the seal of confession. I am only making use of the knowledge gleaned for a deed which is pleasing to God. The chambermaid was curious and peeped through this device once and consequently was plagued by a bad conscience. I gave her absolution and freed her of it and now she is able to sleep well again. Thus everybody benefited from the affair. Now pay attention!’

  The cleric moved towards the side wall which was made of roughly hewn granite blocks. Only if one knew where to look could one notice that in one place at eye level, instead of a stone there was a painted wooden flap. It looked so genuine that in the feeble light it was indistinguishable from the real stones. The mortar, too, was fake.

  By putting his fingernails into the fake mortar the chaplain managed to open the wooden flap. Behind it was a chute which was closed off by a piece of glass. The chaplain stuck his head in while Gero, now very curious, waited impatiently for his turn to look through the wall.

  At last the cleric pulled his head back out and whispered into Gero’s ear: ‘The medica is just tending to the countess’ little son. You do not need to withdraw should someone look in your direction as one can only see through the glass from our side. On the other side, it is a mirror set into the wall and anybody looking at it can only see their own face. The chambermaid who told me about it in confession found out because once as she accompanied the count and his wife to Mass through this corridor she saw the countess use it to see if the child was being well looked after.’

  Slowly and carefully Gero approached the opening in the wall, put his head in and looked through the glass.

  Just then the young woman who had treated little Frederick with an ointment was washing her hands. As the wash basin happened to sit on a chest in front of the mirror she looked straight into Gero’s face as he peeped into the room from the other side.

  For three or four heart beats, time stood still for Gero. Perhaps only two hands’ breadth away from the woman, he stared without her noticing straight into her eyes: one brown eye and one green eye.

  Deeply shocked at the unexpected sight and sudden realisation, Gero recoiled. What he had just seen could not be real! Those were the eyes of Brother Marian, the same eyes that had haunted him for so long, that had persecuted and tortured him. He was certain of it.

  The castle chaplain started at Gero’s surprisingly strong reaction. He himself took another careful look through the glass, closed the painted wooden flap and turned around to face Gero von Hochstaden.

  ‘Do you know the medica?’ he asked.

  Gero, who felt as if he had looked into the smiling face of Lucifer himself, was only gradually recovering from the shock. ‘Yes, yes I do know her.’

  ‘And who is she? Is she somebody different from whom she pretends to be?’

  ‘Indeed. I know her as Brother Marian from Heisterbach monastery.’

  ‘The monk with the leprosy? Who took his own life?’

  ‘The very one.’

  ‘Impossible. Are you sure?’

  ‘I could not forget those eyes, and there cannot possibly be another pair like them. But with my own eyes I have seen Brother Marian with all the signs of leprosy. He was expelled by the monks and I was a witness to his drowning.’

  ‘But the medica is a woman!’

  ‘He must have risen from the dead . . . in a woman’s body.’

  The castle chaplain dared to take Gero by the shoulders and look into his eyes. Gero was still beside himself trying to come to terms with his discovery.

  The priest whispered to him: ‘Are you familiar with Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians, chapter thirteen, verse twelve?’

  Totally confused, Gero shook his head.

  The castle chaplain quoted in a trembling voice: ‘Videmus nunc per speculum in enigmate, tunc autem facie ad faciem.’

  Right then Gero had no ear for biblical wisdom, however apt it might be.

  He murmured: ‘I will kill her. Her or him, it doesn’t matter. This time she will not manage to disappear. I will do it myself and be absolutely certain.’

  The chaplain shook him and spoke earnestly: ‘Do not commit such a sin! Do not think of revenge right now, I beseech you!’

  Gero shot the chaplain such a cutting glance that the latter withdrew his hands immediately. ‘Oh yes, your reverence, oh yes. That is exactly what I’m thinking of doing!’ he said.

  Chapter III

  On leaving the countess and her little son, Anna was in good humour. The rash of cradle cap on the infant’s head was harmless and the child was otherwise well. The countess was more than happy with her medica, and as long as they were by themselves never let Anna feel the social difference between them.

  From her Anna learned that Count Georg von Landskron planned to hold a big tournament to which even Konrad von Hochstaden would be invited. With the king’s permission, Count Georg cautiously and diplomatically wanted to find out whether it might not be possible to reconcile the different factions after all.

  Anna silently hoped that she might see Chassim again. He was known to be an enthusiastic participator in tournaments with many a victory to his credit.

  Countess Ottgild enjoyed talking about her ‘little’ brother – he was almost ten years younger than herself – and it would make her eyes sparkle and a tender smile play around her lips. She dearly loved Chassim, as much as a sister possibly could. The countess thought that her little Frederick was the image of her brother, and Anna fully agreed. She had to watch herself carefully never to steer the conversation towards Chassim so as to avoid any suspicion
that she was entertaining inappropriate hopes, because she had fallen in love with him. She knew only too well that was what had happened. Whenever she thought of him she felt a yearning that changed between bittersweet and painful. She had decided to ask the countess casually the next time whether Chassim would participate in the tournament. But perhaps the countess would tell her anyway. For her own part, Anna chided herself for her daydreams. She was altogether too small and insignificant a fish for Chassim, a young man of noble birth, who was free to cast his net wherever he pleased and was certain to be fishing in very different ponds.

  With her satchel on her back, Anna walked home dreamily through the lanes of Oppenheim. So this is what it felt like to be thinking of somebody with whom one was secretly in love. She was experiencing a strange feeling of lightness that belonged to her alone, and there was only one person in the whole world with whom she would have liked to share it. The prospect of seeing Chassim in the not-too-distant future lifted her spirits and her steps.

  It was easy for Gero to follow the young medica secretly. To judge by the way she strolled easily along the street she didn’t appear to be at all apprehensive or suspicious. After the terrifying experience in the corridor at the top of the palas, he had looked for a hiding place from which he could observe the courtyard. He had to see where this girl with the different-coloured eyes went – at all costs.

  Who might be behind this supposed medica? Gero did not have the slightest doubt that she was the Brother Marian whom he had met at Heisterbach monastery. But no matter how hard he thought about it at the moment, he couldn’t explain the transformation of a desperate and terminally ill monk into a self-confident and high-spirited medica. As soon as he managed to get his hands on her, though, he would beat it out of this Anna Ahrweiler, as she now apparently called herself.

  Gero kept enough of a distance between them. He would have to be careful of this artful person; after all, she must be in league with the devil. How else could she dander peacefully through the lanes even though in a previous life she had been a young man suffering from leprosy who had drowned before his eyes? No doubt there was witchcraft involved here!