The Apothecary's Secret

by Johanna Geiges

  A sudden clatter brought Anna back to reality as Brother Thomas pushed the door open with his foot and entered with Berbelin. He brought with him a bowl with aqua vitae and a strap. The strap he had fetched from the barn where it was usually kept for fastening equipment on the covered wagon. At least it would allow Chassim’s upper body to be tied down without cutting into his skin as a rope would. Berbelin and Thomas held down Chassim’s healthy leg while Anna carefully started to untie the splints and unwind the bandage from the fracture. She could have sedated Chassim with a sleep sponge but chose not to so as to spare him the after-effects of nausea and severe headache. At last having bared the fractured leg, she began to clean the sutured wound with aqua vitae.

  Brother Thomas bent down to inspect and smell it. ‘No gangrene so far,’ he stated with satisfaction. ‘It looks well.’

  ‘Yes,’ Anna agreed. ‘Let’s hope that it will stay like that.’ She applied some freshly mixed ointment to the suture to help the healing and decided not to put on another bandage because the wound was no longer bleeding and she wanted to spare the patient the pain of the daily removal of the leg splints in future. Carefully she rearranged the leg splints and fixed them on. Brother Thomas then loosened the strap and took away the dirty bandages while Anna pushed her patient’s sweaty hair out of his eyes and prayed for him.

  At Landskron Castle, the hour for the archbishop’s departure had come. He had to return to Cologne on urgent business and his four-wheeled travelling car stood ready in the courtyard. Konrad von Hochstaden did not like this mode of transport as it was bumpy, uncomfortable and slow, but his high status as an archbishop demanded that he travel in state through the land in a car drawn by four horses and decorated with the insignia of his power. His escort consisted of twenty-four heavily armed, mounted men, resplendent in his livery emblazoned with his arms: a silver imperial eagle on a red ground.

  The coachman was already sitting on his box, the escort guard horses were prancing nervously, the servants of the castle had lined up according to rank and all eyes were on the heavy oak door of the palas. But his grace did not appear.

  Konrad von Hochstaden generally liked to keep people waiting, though today he did have excuses. As was fitting, he had paid a courtesy visit to the countess and thanked her for the hospitality extended to him. With the count, however, he had requested a private interview in the latter’s audience chamber.

  As soon as Count Georg had led the archbishop into the dark panelled room and closed the door behind him, Konrad von Hochstaden turned to him and asked with a malicious smile, ‘How is your brother-in-law?’

  ‘Well, Sir Chassim was fortunate despite his accident, your grace. The injured leg did not have to be amputated. However he is not yet over the worst.’

  ‘I have heard that he is in good care.’

  ‘Yes, your grace, but our biggest fear remains that he will develop a fever, and if gangrene sets in his leg will have to be amputated after all. But he is in good hands,’ the count replied.

  ‘Are you referring to the medica?’

  ‘Yes, your grace, she has indeed a pair of exceptionally gifted hands and great knowledge of the healing arts.’

  The archbishop nodded portentously. ‘So we have been told. She is supposed to have worked true miracle healings.’

  The count stopped him with a wave of his hand. ‘People! You know how they hear something, elaborate it at their own discretion and spread it. That is how rumours devoid of any truth travel like wildfire.’

  ‘Do they?’

  ‘Your grace – you know what simple people are like!’

  ‘No, I don’t. As far as I know it is precisely the simple people who have the most profound and honest faith in the truths of the Bible and the teachings of Holy Mother Church. They have an unerring instinct for detecting anybody sinning against these irrefutable truths and teachings. And that confuses them and makes them doubt the true faith. But as you may know, count, it is my sacred duty that it doesn’t get to that and to keep watch that nobody dares to carry out their nefarious deeds in the name of Lucifer through sorcery and magic.’

  The count wanted to reply but the archbishop silenced him with an imperious gesture and continued: ‘It is known to me that the said medica enjoys your special protection. Tell me, how did she obtain this privilege?’

  ‘She has honestly earned it, and there is nothing in her healing arts that would contradict the teachings of the church.’

  The archbishop shook his head, saddened. ‘Well, that is precisely what I will have to examine. Not that I doubt your words, but this medica will have to give an account of her . . . let’s say, unusually effective healing methods before a court. I do not want to enumerate everything she has been accused of except for one: in front of witnesses she has brought back to life a child who had drowned. Through the laying of hands! What do you say to that? If that isn’t sorcery . . .’ And he particularly enjoyed adding: ‘I will take you and your special rank among the princes into account in as much as I decree that the interrogation and trial will take place here in Oppenheim. In light of the numerous offences with which she is charged, I could by virtue of my office have her arrested and taken to my bishopric – you do appreciate that, don’t you?’ This time he saved himself a scornful smile because he was entirely serious.

  Having remained silent for a while Count Georg finally said: ‘I will get everything prepared for a trial so that justice can be done. I am absolutely convinced that the charges against the medica are unjustified and nothing but a pack of lies.’

  ‘The court over which I will preside will find the truth, your honour,’ Konrad von Hochstaden replied.

  ‘But, your grace, only a secular court can pronounce the death sentence.’

  A small superior smile stole over the archbishop’s face again as he replied: ‘Rest assured that I am very familiar with such formalities. The presence of a mayor as a representative of the secular jurisdiction will guarantee that everything will be done in accordance with the law.’

  ‘I can tell that you have already planned your course of action in detail,’ the count replied.

  Konrad von Hochstaden didn’t think it necessary to hide his vanity and superiority any longer. ‘Well, in such important matters I generally don’t leave anything to chance.’

  The count nodded briefly. ‘Then grant me an urgent request: give the medica sufficient time to get my brother-in-law reasonably well again. He needs her expert knowledge or I’d be worried about his recovery.’

  The archbishop frowned. ‘The Church does not haggle, your honour. You should know that. But urgent official duties in my diocese require my immediate presence in Cologne for four weeks. That’s the amount of time your medica has to restore your brother-in-law to health. By whatever means.’

  He had turned to leave when he remembered something and turned back again. ‘I presume that you will warn the medica.’

  The archbishop could tell from the count’s guilty expression that he had surmised correctly. He stepped close to him and whispered into his ear: ‘I assume that you will put the medica under house arrest until her trial and that she will be guarded accordingly. My nephew, who has been serving here as instructor of the archers under the command of your castle captain will make sure that my instructions are strictly followed. Should the medica nevertheless be given a chance to flee, you will be held responsible. You know what that means. You can take it that I would consider such a breach of our agreement sufficient reason for a feud. In matters of heresy all the princes of the realm, without exception, are on my side, the side of the Church.’

  He let his threat sink in for another moment before he took a step back to act again the genial guest who was sad to leave.

  ‘Well then, time doesn’t stand still. I must take leave of you.’ The archbishop bowed lightly and added: ‘Keep well, your honour. I will be here again anyway for the Festum Nativitatis Mariae because by then I should be in possession of the relic of Saint Cat
herine for the new church in Oppenheim. We will see each other again on that occasion.’

  With these words he finally turned and disappeared.

  From a window slit on the upper floor of the palas Count Georg von Landskron watched as the archbishop walked to his car passing through the guard of honour formed by the servants. He saw him step into it and leave the castle with his retinue.

  Suddenly he sensed that his wife was behind him. He did not turn around because he felt numb. ‘He wants to accuse the medica of heresy.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Ottgild whispered horrified, embracing her husband and putting her head on his shoulder. ‘I have always feared this, ever since the archbishop accepted your invitation and announced his visit at the tournament. The medica has made too many enemies. The castle chaplain is the archbishop’s man, and he must have denounced her,’ she murmured.

  The count sighed deeply and asked his wife: ‘What am I to do? I must follow the archbishop’s instructions. If I call into doubt his clerical authority we are lost. He would then accuse us of heresy. We cannot enter into a feud with him. He would destroy us.’

  It took a while before Ottgild answered. ‘I know. I will talk to the medica,’ she said in a husky voice.

  PART IV

  Chapter I

  That evening, when Countess Ottgild delivered the devastating news from Landskron Castle in the kitchen of the medica’s house, all were left speechless. The countess, whom they thought had only come to visit her brother, told them how the archbishop intended to accuse Anna of heresy. If everything was carried out as Konrad von Hochstaden had envisioned, everyone around the table knew that Anna’s fate was sealed.

  Anna, Brother Thomas and Berbelin were utterly dismayed at first and could hardly look at each other. Brother Thomas even ignored the beer that he had just topped up.

  Anna herself was the first to recover. She stood and began pacing up and down, a habit she had copied from Master Aaron, as she contemplated the consequences of what the countess had said. She had always feared that her new life as a medica might not just continue as was, especially once she had seen Gero and learned of the archbishop’s visit to Landskron Castle. But she had never shared this worry with anyone and had often pushed it away. She had preferred instead to dream about Chassim, thus lulling herself into a false sense of security.

  Now, to save her life, she would have to pack the essentials into the covered wagon, hitch up the horses and go on the run as Master Aaron had done with or without Brother Thomas and Berbelin. It was impossible to stand up against an unassailable enemy, so her first thought was to flee before it was too late. For a moment she didn’t reckon on the two guards, Gero von Hochstaden’s cronies, who had set up camp on the meadow in front of her house to make sure that nobody entered or left the house without the count’s permission until the start of her trial. But something else made her flight impossible.

  Under no circumstances would she abandon Chassim. Not as long as he was hovering between life and death. No, she would not run away. Not because flight would amount to an admission of guilt, but because she did not want to flee. She owed that to herself, Brother Thomas, Berbelin and most especially to Chassim, and she also realised that the count and his family would pay if she fled in the middle of the night. No, her task was to look after Chassim and to face her own past and the archbishop. She had been granted a short reprieve to prepare her defence in court. She would put up a fight. No longer did she want to be a victim of slander, lies and conspiracy. Now that she knew what was ahead it seemed easier to face the danger than to live in constant fear that her identity might come to light.

  And she would not only put up a fight for herself, but demand from the archbishop justice for the fate of her parents, and she would confront him with what she knew about him. For that the trial would have to be in public. That much she would demand of the count. This might not be an impossible demand after all, because the archbishop would be keen to accuse the medica in front of everybody and defame her as a witch.

  Anna turned to the countess: ‘Your highness, thank you for warning us. We will think what this means for each of us. You, Thomas, and you, Berbelin, are of course free to do as you please. For my part, I will stay with Sir Chassim as long as is necessary.’ She could see that Brother Thomas was about to protest and decided not to let him have his say. ‘This is my incontrovertible decision.’

  Nobody present dared contradict her.

  Then she added: ‘And not a word about this to Sir Chassim! He would upset himself for nothing and jeopardise his recovery!’

  With that she left the kitchen and went to her patient. When she saw that he was sleeping peacefully despite his fever, she left him alone with his sister.

  That night Anna dreamed a confused dream in which she tearfully asked her parents to come to her at last. She wanted to rush to help them, but something like an iron clamp held her back so that she could not move an inch however much she tried. When she looked down she saw there the pockmarked face of the archbishop. Decked out in full regalia, he was clasping her right ankle with his ringed hand and wouldn’t let go. As she thrashed about struggling to free herself, she managed to kick the mitre off his head and immediately realised that she had thus committed a mortal sin. With an appalled expression, the archbishop pointed to his mitre which lay in the mud before lifting it up by its vittae, the two ribbons attached to its back. He held them accusingly in front of Anna’s eyes as the slush of the road ran from the mitre and turned into a pool of blood at her feet. With his eyes burning and in a cutting voice he accused her of sorcery and heresy. Suddenly she was in a hair shirt on the executioner’s cart, which was pulled by Gero von Hochstaden. She was shackled with heavy chains; her hair, which had been shorn roughly, stood out in all directions. Gero in his armour kept turning back to smile at her with bared teeth as he pointed ahead to a burning pyre.

  She screamed but no sound came from her throat. The pyre came closer and closer. Anna saw that her parents were already standing in the flames squirming with pain. She pulled and strained at the chains but could not free herself to help them. Suddenly a hand grabbed her by the shoulder.

  She turned around and found it was Berbelin who was trying to wake her up. The maid, clad only in her sleeping tunic and bonnet, gestured wildly for Anna to follow her. Still dazed from her nightmare Anna got up, threw a blanket over her shoulders and followed Berbelin who was running down the stairs still gesturing excitedly. From the treatment room candlelight spilled into the hall. Oh God, Anna thought, Chassim!

  She was preparing herself for the worst and almost tripped as she entered the treatment room where Brother Thomas stood smiling and beckoning to her. He was sitting by Chassim’s mattress and said: ‘You won’t believe this, but our patient is free of fever!’

  Anna first stood still with the shock but then hurried to Chassim who was sitting up. He beamed at her and said in a hoarse but clear voice: ‘You are welcome here, medica. Please forgive us for calling you at such an ungodly hour, but I am ravenously hungry and could eat an entire ox!’

  For a tiny moment Anna could not believe what she saw and what she had just heard. Out of infinite relief and joy she then clapped her hands and exclaimed: ‘Thanks be to God! Hallelujah! God in Heaven!’

  Immediately Anna turned to Berbelin who had covered her mouth with her hands in disbelief and was staring at Chassim as if he were a ghost. ‘Berbelin, please go to the kitchen and prepare a strong chicken broth without delay.’

  Berbelin disappeared and Anna turned back to Chassim. ‘And you, Sir Chassim, ‘she said. ‘You lie down again until the food is ready.’

  ‘But . . .’ Chassim wanted to object, but Anna interrupted him firmly.

  ‘No buts! Please do as I tell you!’

  Chassim turned to Brother Thomas and asked in surprise: ‘Is she that strict with you, too?’

  Brother Thomas pulled a mournful face. ‘Oh, at the moment, she is kindness personified. You should see her wh
en she is really strict. On such occasions my knees tremble and the walls shake!’

  He made such a frightened face that Chassim had to laugh. His fit of laughter was so intense that he missed the worried glance that Anna and Brother Thomas exchanged.

  Gero was surprised at the ringing laughter that reached him in the middle of the night from the Medica’s house. He was sitting by the campfire with his two companions keeping watch. Ever since his uncle had informed the count that he would put the medica on trial, he had never left her house unguarded and only left his post in the early morning hours to get some sleep in his room at the inn. He had resigned from service at Landskron Castle on orders from his uncle. Between now and her imminent end was the time to sound out the witch and her secret heretical activities and keep a constant watch on her and her visitors. Should Anna Ahrweiler make even the faintest attempt to flee with that strange servant who pretended to be a monk, he would intervene with Lutz and Oswald and arrest her. Gero would much have liked to do so immediately but the archbishop had forbidden it. It would have been seen as an affront to the count whose jurisdiction included Oppenheim.

  Keeping watch was demanding and exhausting, especially at night and in bad weather. Ever since Sir Chassim was staying in the medica’s house, a light shone all night behind the small window on the ground floor, and often there was a light on the first floor behind the window with the small glass disks. Gero wondered what might be going on there. Against the express order of his uncle, he had sneaked up to the house several times as soon as it got dark and listened. He had ordered Lutz and Oswald to stay by the fire because he had hoped to witness a witches’ sabbath or some other kind of magic. He could vividly imagine what was going on in the heretic’s house. After all, weren’t witches intent on carrying on in every possible manner with everything and anything – and most particularly with the devil? He didn’t want to miss seeing that, even though he had a healthy respect for Anna’s magical tricks, which he would not have admitted to anybody.