The Apothecary's Secret

by Johanna Geiges

  ‘I agree. I don’t want to promise you too much, but I will try to fit something on you so that even now you can take a few steps. It is an experiment and you are the first on whom I am trying it out,’ Anna said mysteriously.

  ‘An experiment sounds promising. What should I do?’ Chassim asked curiously. ‘Or rather: what will you do to me? Will it be some secret magic after all? I am ready, and I will not tell anybody,’ he grinned.

  Anna remained serious and shook her head. ‘You give too much credit to rumours, dear count!’

  ‘Dear count!’ He cast his eyes up to Heaven and joined his hands together as if in prayer. ‘Thank you, Jesus, for finally hearing my prayers! She has called me dear count! Indeed what progress!’

  ‘I can see that you are not taking me seriously, Sir Chassim.’

  ‘Oh yes, Anna, and how I am taking you seriously! More than you can imagine. I only wish you didn’t constantly treat me like an under-age patient.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘Well, it would surely be conducive to my healing if you treated me again the way you did at the stream after the buhurt.’

  He caught Anna by the arm and pulled her close. She didn’t resist and let it happen until their noses nearly touched.

  She whispered: ‘We will talk about it as soon as you have fully recovered, dear count, though not before.’

  ‘Not even a little reward for my patience as a patient? Right now?’ he said gently, and at this point a feather would just about have fitted between their lips.

  ‘Did you not want to know what kind of experiment I had in mind for you?’ Anna whispered, and Chassim whispered back: ‘Whatever it is, you can do whatever you like with me . . .’

  He closed his eyes expecting a kiss. Anna hesitated. At this moment what she wanted most was to forget everything around her and fling her arms around his neck at last. Instead she touched his closed eyelids with her lips, stood up and moved away.

  ‘I have searched for a long time in the books which my Jewish master left me. He told me about a method which is sometimes used in the Levant when a fractured limb needs to be immobilised. Last night I found the formula for it,’ she said with sad pride and tapped a heavy tome which she had brought along. ‘And, more importantly, the medicus has left a supply of the material necessary for this method in the barn.’

  ‘What kind of material is it, and what kind of a method?’

  ‘It will help you get about again faster while at the same time making sure that your leg remains stable enough for the fractured bones to knit. The name of the material is from the Greek but will mean nothing to you. It is mostly used as a kind of mortar. Workmen call it plaster.’

  ‘Plaster, I see. And what do you intend to do with it? Pump it into me, perhaps, to set my leg like mortar between two stones?’

  ‘No. You will see. I must experiment a little longer before I use the mortar on you. Moreover, the exterior wound must have healed completely.’

  Chassim’s face became serious as he folded his arms. ‘You can tell me about it later, Anna. I think it is now time that you sat next to me and answered a few of my questions. I have asked for this before but now we have time. So now, Anna, I am asking you: ‘What is it that weighs so heavily on your soul?’

  Anna’s lips narrowed. ‘I cannot tell you that.’

  But Chassim wouldn’t give up. ‘Then tell me at least who you are and where you come from. Surely you don’t mean to tell me that you were born a fully fledged medica, do you?’

  ‘No, I do not,’ she said and kept staring out of the little window.

  ‘Do you not trust me?’

  Anna kept looking out. She did not want Chassim to see how she was fighting with herself because she feared she might lose him if she told the truth.

  Then Chassim started to speak. And while he talked, Anna turned and listened attentively. It seemed as if he was bearing his innermost soul to her, and he spoke without regret or complaint, without bitterness or sadness. She was touched by his honesty and openness. As he spoke, she moved closer and finally sat down on the stool next to his bed listening intently.

  ‘My name is Chassim von Greifenklau and I belong to an old family which goes back to the time of Charlemagne. My ancestor was enfeoffed with a county as a reward for faithful service and we remain masters of the area to this day. My father, Claus von Greifenklau, is elderly and cannot see very well any longer but his mind is as sharp as ever. More than twenty years ago he took part in the last Crusade, during which Emperor Frederick II managed to win back Jerusalem, Bethlehem and Nazareth for Christianity by peaceful means. For his pains, papal troops invaded southern Italy in his absence so that he had to return from the Holy Land to drive the intruders from his realm. My father always rode at his side, and ever since has been an unconditional supporter of our emperor and a bitter enemy of the Guelphs and the papacy. He would lay down his life for the Staufers. My mother died a long time ago; my father loved her above all else and he has not had another woman at his side since. At the time, my sister Ottgild, the Countess of Landskron, took care of me and brought me up even though she herself was still a girl. My father placed great importance on us receiving a good education, and we had teachers instructing us in reading, writing, arithmetic and Latin. The knightly virtues I learned from my father: swordsmanship, jousting, archery and riding. I have learned everything from him. He continues to administer his county and he looks after everyone – farmers, peasants, maids, soldiers and shepherds, regardless. Our people are well treated; when the harvest is poor, my father waives the share to which we are entitled. The common people love and adore him, and he constantly strives to be a good lord.

  We do not own a walled and moated castle with a palas, rather our home is like a large manor house surrounded by walls. We do not shy away from helping when a corn harvest is endangered by the weather or in a search for lost cattle.’

  For the first time since starting to speak, he looked at her and when he saw that she was still listening carefully, he continued.

  ‘I was once married to a beautiful woman named Magdalena. She became pregnant and we were looking forward to our first child. But it pleased our Heavenly Father to take her and the child to himself while she was still in confinement. For the past three years I have been a widower and thought that the Lord God had not destined me to meet another woman who would set my heart on fire. But then you entered my life.

  Initially I was grateful that you spared my brother-in-law a fate like my own, when you with Master Aaron saved the life of my sister and her son. But after seeing you I could not forget you.’

  He paused and took some deep breaths.

  Anna was motionless, listening to Chassim’s confession without comment or question. But the longer he spoke, the more upset she became. His story had poured out of him as if he wanted to lay his life at her feet. Now, she just sat there, stunned.

  Chassim pointed to the stool on which lay his belongings. ‘Would you please hand me my doublet?’

  Anna reached over and handed it to him without a word.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘Berbelin had wanted to wash it but thank God I happened to be awake and could prevent it’.

  He reached into the lining where a pocket had been sewn level with the heart and took out a small book. Laying the doublet aside he showed it to Anna.

  ‘This is a copy of the Song of Solomon that belonged to my mother. My father copied it from the Bible and gave it to her as a wedding present. I always carry it with me. And do you know what else is in it?’ he asked, opening the book and extracting with the utmost care something from between the pages. It was a pressed cornflower, fragile and delicate as the wing of a butterfly.

  He looked at Anna and asked her with a smile: ‘Do you remember the arrival of our King Conrad in Oppenheim and our very first encounter? You sent a little girl to me with this blue flower.’

  How well she did remember! Except she would have placed a bet that Chassim had long since throw
n away and forgotten the small insignificant flower, which had not even been meant for him but for the young king. Added to her surprise was the fact that he had remembered that the little girl had been sent by her, as she stood in the crowd with her hood up feeling so plain and ugly.

  When Anna saw the little dried cornflower in Chassim’s hand, she could no longer hold back but leaned down and put her head on his chest. The lump in her throat meant she could not speak but the tears flowed all the more strongly.

  Chassim stroked her hair and kissed her cheeks until suddenly she realised that given his injured leg it was not appropriate for her to be nestled close to him like that. So she grabbed a cloth, blew her nose and sat on the bed leaning her head against his chest.

  With his face buried in her hair he said gently, ‘You don’t need to tell me anything about yourself if you don’t want to, Anna. The main thing is you are with me. Everything else is unimportant.’

  She took the cornflower in her hand, looked at it for a long time and then began her own story. Suddenly she found she could tell him everything simply and without reserve. Except the bitter end . . . that she was facing a trial for heresy. That she kept to herself.

  When both had finished speaking, they remained silent for a while.

  Then Chassim gently turned her face to his and kissed her. After the briefest hesitation she kissed him back, exploring his tongue with hers. Up until then she had not known what passion was. But now she forgot everything, her origins, her past, her desperation, the sword of Damocles that was hanging over her by the thinnest of threads, and explored his body.

  Chassim’s experienced hands began to caress her under her tunic. He moved infinitely gently and lovingly as if he was holding something very precious in his arms. Anna moaned when she felt his fingers between her legs. She felt no shame, on the contrary; she was hungry for his touch and longed for his tongue as she groped under the coverlet to find his throbbing penis. She clasped it so that he sighed with pleasure. Without hesitating he lifted her onto the bed and she sat herself astride him, careful of his injured leg despite her building ardour. Once she had overcome the small painful resistance, there was no holding back for either of them as they went on a journey of passionate intoxication which swept everything away with no thought for the morrow.

  It had long turned dark when Brother Thomas dared at last to knock timidly and open the door softly to see after Anna and Chassim. He found them asleep in a close embrace like two innocent children.

  Sighing, he fetched a large woollen blanket and, removing a small book from Anna’s hand, covered them caringly and left them on their own.

  Out in the hall he opened the book where a pressed cornflower had been inserted and read by the light of a candle the underlined text: ‘Your lips are like a scarlet thread, and your mouth is lovely. Your cheeks are like halves of a pomegranate behind your veil.’

  He sighed deeply again and anxiously made the sign of the cross just in case and put the flower back in. He left the little book on the landing near Anna’s chamber before disappearing to his own room to lie down.

  From his bed he sent quick prayers to heaven in which he thanked God for Sir Chassim’s continued improvement and at the same time he implored God to keep Medica Anna safe, safe from the archbishop and from herself. Or maybe prayer was futile anyway in the face of what lay ahead of her?

  He stared at the ceiling. Ever since the evening when Countess Ottgild had brought them the bad tidings he could hardly sleep. Again and again he turned over in his mind every possibility of escape. But however much he racked his brains he couldn’t think of any.

  Chapter IV

  The next morning Brother Thomas was sitting at the kitchen table eating his porridge when Anna entered and joined him. Brother Thomas poured her some milk from the large jug. Anna looked at him and sensed what he thought. But nobody said a word until Anna broke the silence after a while.

  ‘Are you still here?’ she asked with a yawn.

  ‘Where else should I be?’

  ‘Over the hills and far away,’ she replied.

  There was silence again for a while until Anna asked abruptly: ‘Do you condemn me now?’

  ‘As a friend and infirmarius it is not my place to judge. And I am sure you do not wish to hear the opinion of a priest,’ he added.

  ‘Indeed I don’t. Do you think that is still relevant in my situation?’

  Brother Thomas shrugged his shoulders. ‘Does Sir Chassim know of your . . . your situation?’

  Anna shook her head. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Don’t you think it is about time you told him?’

  She nodded distractedly and looked around. ‘Where is Berbelin?’

  ‘She is gone to the market to shop. The guards outside have let her pass. She showed them her empty basket and they let her go.’

  Anna stood up. ‘Will you help me?’

  ‘With what?’

  ‘With my experiment. I want to make sure that Sir Chassim will soon be able to walk again.’

  ‘The sooner he convalesces, the sooner you will make the acquaintance of the dungeons, you know that, don’t you?’

  Anna ignored the remark. ‘Will you come to the barn with me? I want to show you something.’ She went ahead and Brother Thomas followed her.

  In the barn Anna soon found the bag containing the dry, powdery substance that Master Aaron had shown her months earlier.

  ‘What is that?’ Brother Thomas asked.

  ‘It is called plaster. Master Aaron got it from the stonemasons who are involved in the construction of St Catherine’s Church. I have tried it out and I know how to use it. But really I want to show you something else. Who knows, it might be useful given what’s ahead of me – or of us.’

  ‘You are speaking in riddles.’

  ‘You will soon see what I mean,’ Anna said, casting a careful glance through the door of the barn to where the two guards were sitting by the campfire having a meal.

  Brother Thomas was peeping through a different chink when Anna tapped him on the shoulder and led him to a remote corner of the barn where the hay for the animals was kept. She took the broom that stood there and first pushed aside the hay and then brushed clear the wooden cover that was set into the floor. Anna lifted the trapdoor and Brother Thomas was amazed to see steps which disappeared into the darkness below. ‘A secret passage,’ he whispered, ‘where does it lead?’

  Suddenly horses’ hooves could be heard outside the barn and Anna quickly closed the cover again, pushing some hay over it so that it could not be seen.

  Quietly she said: ‘It spreads out under the city. There are numerous side passages and branches. But I only know one passage and it leads directly to Landskron Castle. Sir Chassim knows it too, and he has shown it to me.’

  She was looking out through the chink into the yard where the countess was dismounting with the help of her servant. Anna turned to Brother Thomas: ‘Now you hurry and tell Chassim that his sister is coming. I must go and receive the countess.’

  She pushed Brother Thomas through the door into the house and straightened her hair and tunic before opening the barn door slightly and stepping into the sunlight.

  At the market Berbelin had bought plenty of vegetables and poultry. She had noticed the furtive glances and whispering of many who looked the other way as she approached. Obviously the impending trial of her mistress was already being spoken about all over the city. Berbelin determined not to care about it.

  Passing through a narrow lane on the way home, she saw that a figure in a wide cloak of dark wool, the kind that monks wear, had half-hidden himself in an entrance. Berbelin, who was well used to the dangers of a busy city, hurried to get past on the opposite side, but the figure stepped out and blocked her way.

  ‘Miss Berbelin?’ a dark male voice asked.

  Berbelin held the basket with the shopping tight against her and tried to get past, but the figure grabbed her by the wrist and whispered into her ear: ‘Don’t
be afraid. I mean you no harm. You are the medica’s maid, aren’t you?’

  Berbelin nodded; despite the man’s reassurance she was greatly afraid.

  ‘Are you dumb?’

  Berbelin nodded again.

  ‘Then it is true what they say about you. Your medica has different-coloured eyes, hasn’t she?’

  Again, Berbelin nodded.

  The stranger looked around to make sure that they were alone and then pressed a piece of parchment into her hand, whispering: ‘Give this message to the medica. But make sure that nobody else reads it. It is only intended for her, do you understand?’

  Berbelin nodded.

  ‘Go now, and hide the message from the guards as they may search you.’ With these words the stranger turned and made off.

  Berbelin had not seen his face. She waited until he turned the corner before pushing the folded-up parchment as far as she could into her bodice and hurried home.

  When the countess saw that her brother was again cheerful and in good spirits for the first time since the accident at the tournament she couldn’t help but embrace him, she was so relieved. But in spite of her joy she felt miserable inside.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Chassim asked as he sensed her dejection.

  But the countess hesitated before answering. How was she to impart the terrible news to her brother? The medica and Brother Thomas were standing there looking uncomfortable.

  When nobody said anything, Chassim turned to Anna: ‘What are you keeping from me? Just spit it out, don’t spare me any longer.’

  The countess exchanged a glance with Anna and as soon as she received a nod, decided to tell her brother the plain truth about the archbishop’s plans. When the truth was out an awkward silence reigned.

  Distressed, Chassim ran his fingers through his hair. ‘What does my brother-in-law intend to do? Does he want to sit twiddling his thumbs until they have destroyed Anna? He just cannot allow that to happen! You all know what that would mean!’