The Apothecary's Secret

by Johanna Geiges

  She waited till Berbelin had closed the door behind her and set to work, assisted by Brother Thomas.

  Lying on his back, Chassim quietly asked: ‘Why have you sent Berbelin away?’

  As she mixed the plaster with the water and Brother Thomas laid out the strips of linen, Anna said: ‘Because I have to say something to the two of you which she does not need to know, since it only concerns the three of us.’

  Chassim and Brother Thomas exchanged glances and the latter shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he had no idea either what the important news was.

  The medica wrapped Chassim’s leg and half of his foot with a dry layer of linen before she showed Brother Thomas how to dip single strips of linen into the plaster mixture.

  ‘One has to work fast as the plaster dries quickly.’

  One after another he handed her the plaster-soaked linen cloths, which she wrapped around the leg and foot, layer upon layer. Both worked in silence and with concentration until the medica thought the plaster layer was strong enough to take Chassim’s weight. ‘In about three weeks’ time you can have the plaster removed; it is not difficult. Though the plaster is hard, it breaks up easily if one hits it lightly with a small hammer,’ she said. ‘Brother Thomas has made crutches for you, which will help you walk around. At first you should put as little weight on your leg as possible, but you’ll see that this is preferable to just lying there. The plaster will give you back some of your mobility.’

  When at last they had finished and Brother Thomas had brought water and towels so that they could clean up, Anna began: ‘Two days ago a strange monk gave Berbelin a message for me. You do not know the message yet, Chassim, but it changes everything.’

  She fished out the piece of parchment from her pocket and pushed it into Chassim’s hand.

  When he had read it, he looked at the Medica blankly.

  ‘My sister used to play mystery games with me when I was a child, and I was quite good at them, but I’m afraid this is too advanced for me.’

  He handed the parchment back to Anna and she began to explain to the men both the communication and the plan she had formed.

  Chapter VI

  The moon was full and the sky cloudless, or else Brother Thomas could not have ridden his horse at breakneck speed across the hills that were dotted with bushes, shrubs and trees. He went as fast as his horse and his tortured posterior would allow in order to reach Heisterbach Monastery in time. It was a three days’ ride from Oppenheim. He had evaded the guards in front of the medica’s house using the secret passage that led to the courtyard of Landskron Castle, through which Anna had guided him in the middle of the night. Two grooms who had been instructed in great detail awaited him there with one of Chassim’s horses. Brother Thomas dreaded the long ride, but he did it to help the medica and save her and himself as her accomplice from the stake. He had taken it upon himself to appear in Anna’s stead at the meeting place stated in the monk’s mysterious message.

  Brother Thomas had to hurry because he had promised faithfully to be back for the Festum Nativitatis Mariae, the eighth day in the month of September, when by the archbishop’s command the trial was to begin.

  Anna had given Brother Thomas full powers to act in her name and on her behalf. He did not know what awaited him in Heisterbach Monastery. If all went well he would at least get some information that might save Anna, himself and anybody else whom the archbishop might choose to involve in the trial.

  Brother Thomas thought that this was possibly too optimistic, but it was a last desperate effort and one that offered the only glimmer of hope. Consequently, he had no option but to give it his best and only take the most necessary breaks required by horse and rider to reach the monastery as quickly as possible.

  After Chassim had read the parchment, with growing amazement Brother Thomas and he listened as Anna explained what the message was about.

  ‘Whoever has written this document must know that I used to be Brother Marian, because only Brother Marian could understand the abbreviated words and make some sense of what they mean. Let’s begin with the second abbreviation as Brother Thomas has already guessed the first: IO. 9.25 means the Gospel of St John, chapter nine, verse twenty-five: “One thing I know, that though I was blind, now I see.”

  DIAL. MIR. spelled out means DIALOGUS MIRACULORUM, a work of the deceased abbot of Heisterbach Monastery, Caesarius von Heisterbach. Translated, it means ‘Dialogue of the miracles.’ The book contains a collection of spiritual anecdotes to do with wonders and visions. I did read it one time, as it was required reading for every novice and lay brother at Heisterbach Monastery. But only I know that Father Urban had asked me to take it to heart especially.’

  Brother Thomas asked: ‘And this is why you think it was Father Urban who wrote the message?’

  ‘I realise that this sounds insane. But who else would know about it?’

  That Brother Thomas could not answer adequately either.

  ‘The third encrypted word AR. PI. has to be an abbreviation for archiepiscopus, archbishop,’ Anna continued. ‘The writer of these lines wants to get across that he has important information regarding the archbishop.’

  ‘Why are you so sure about that?’ Chassim remarked.

  ‘Somehow he must have learned of my situation. After all the news that the archbishop wants to initiate proceedings for heresy against the medica has spread through the region like wildfire. The archbishop himself has made sure of that to frighten off anybody who wants to cross him. In his monastery, in Heisterbach, everybody from prior to novice will most certainly know about it.’

  ‘Or perhaps the writer has only recently learned of the existence of the medica with different-coloured eyes who is being hounded by the church,’ Brother Thomas interjected. ‘He remembered those eyes, put two and two together and came to the conclusion that Brother Marian, or rather Anna Ahrweiler, is still alive and has to be this medica.’

  Anna agreed. ‘We will know that once we have met the writer.’

  ‘And what if it is a trap?’ Chassim asked uneasily.

  ‘Why would anybody go to the trouble of luring me into a trap? As you say, my fate is already sealed one way or the other.’

  ‘Go on,’ Brother Thomas urged, ‘what does the next abbreviation mean?’

  But before Anna could say something he slapped his forehead. ‘SEPULC. means sepulcretum – the cemetery!’

  Anna nodded in agreement.

  Brother Thomas was enthusiastic. ‘Of course it’s the cemetery at Heisterbach Monastery. How come I did not guess that immediately! Everything is written here – you only have to know how to interpret it.’

  Anna smiled. ‘Indeed that’s it. John 9, 25: ‘One thing I know, that though I was blind, now I see.’ This tells us three things. Firstly: if one interprets the message correctly its meaning will emerge. Secondly: the writer has uncovered a secret which concerns the archbishop and which he desperately wants to share with me. And thirdly . . .’ She paused for effect. ‘Thirdly: John 9, 25 signifies the exact location of the meeting. The verse is inscribed over the gate of Heisterbach monastery.’

  Brother Thomas jumped up and seized completely by some holy zeal he summarised excitedly: ‘So we have the monastery, the book of an earlier abbot, the archbishop and the graveyard. What remains is IO. BAPT – wait, I know what that means! Johannes Baptista, John the Baptist!’

  ‘That’s correct. And because we still need a precise time for the meeting, it means . . .’

  Brother Thomas interrupted her. ‘But the birth of John the Baptist is celebrated at the summer solstice, on St John’s Day. That was eight weeks ago.’

  ‘There is a second feast day devoted to John the Baptist.’

  ‘You are right!’ Brother Thomas said and pulled a face as if he had just been inspired by the Holy Ghost. ‘The beheading of Saint John the Baptist is on the 29th day of the month of August.’

  ‘That’s in five days. And now, last but not least, to the a
bbreviation VIG. It can only mean vigils. And at Heisterbach Monastery that office is usually at two hours past midnight.’

  So that was it, and the riddle was solved. At last Anna spoke aloud what everyone was thinking: ‘The writer wants to meet me. But I am the archbishop’s prisoner and cannot leave. If I fled it would have incalculable consequences for all who know me. I would be an outlaw, and anybody would have the right and duty to kill me. I would not get far. Moreover, everybody at the monastery would know me. You, Chassim, can’t even walk, let alone ride. There remains only one possibility . . .’ With these words she turned and solemnly faced Brother Thomas.

  He simply nodded and asked quietly: ‘How do I get out of here unseen?’

  It was the day before the Festum Nativitatis Mariae. The archbishop’s arrival at Landskron Castle resembled the victorious entry of a conqueror into a besieged city which had capitulated unconditionally. Even though many of the count’s soldiers and servants formed a guard of honour and a crowd of curious onlookers lined the streets, nobody cheered. People watched in silence as the archbishop’s travelling car at the head of a huge entourage came to a halt in the courtyard, surrounded by a dozen body guards. It was followed by a wagon carrying something very special beneath its waterproof covering which was closely watched by the archbishop’s heavily armed mercenaries.

  When at last the archbishop gracefully emerged from his travelling car followed by Abbot Sixtus of Heisterbach Monastery, his nephew Gero greeted him on bended knee, kissing his ring deferentially. Behind Gero von Hochstaden, a grim-looking count was waiting for the privilege of paying his respects to this unwelcome guest of honour. He, too, kissed the ring and made apologies for his wife, who was not feeling well. Konrad von Hochstaden knew this was a lie but ignored this small display of discourtesy. In two days’ time he would settle the score with the entire Landskron clan anyway.

  Since moving out of the medica’s house, Chassim had been living in an apartment in the castle. He was now standing next to his sister Ottgild in a window bay on the second floor of the palace. From their high vantage point they observed the archbishop’s arrival.

  Chassim leaned on his crutch. He managed well with his foot in the plaster cast, which had caused a general sensation. Initially he only limped a few steps, but after two weeks his strength had returned. Gradually he got used to the cumbersome plaster shell that enclosed his leg.

  In the meantime Anna had been put into a chamber on the first floor of the palace guarded by two soldiers. This was contrary to the archbishop’s wish but Chassim had insisted on it and had prevailed even when Gero von Hochstaden protested. Chassim told him curtly that if Konrad von Hochstaden still demanded that Anna wait for her trial in the dungeons, then the archbishop would have to inform him personally, whereupon he would give his grace a piece of his mind. Eventually young Hochstaden agreed and proceeded to complete all the preparations for the hearings as instructed.

  In return, Chassim had promised that he and the medica would move to Landskron Castle voluntarily without causing a stir. But the whereabouts of Brother Thomas were causing the young Hochstaden a considerable headache. Chassim claimed that the monk had not told anybody about his plan, but simply absconded in the dead of night when the guards outside the medica’s house must have been asleep. Gero von Hochstaden had been very annoyed, but there was nothing he could do about it.

  From the window Chassim and Ottgild continued to watch as, after the formal greetings, the archbishop moved towards his mercenaries, who were about to uncover the second wagon which was drawn by six horses. The siblings asked themselves what it might reveal.

  Gero von Hochstaden and Count Georg von Landskron were standing next to Abbot Sixtus and the archbishop as he was welcomed most obsequiously by the castle chaplain, who had arrived late. Konrad von Hochstaden appeared uninterested as he instructed his men to handle carefully the equipment they were unloading from the wagon.

  ‘You do have a forge in your castle, don’t you?’ he asked the count casually.

  ‘Yes, of course we do. Do you want to get the horses shod?’ the count replied with some surprise.

  ‘No, I don’t. But my nephew has informed me that you do not have a torture chamber. In a forge, one usually finds a furnace designed to make iron pokers glow red-hot and encourage intractable witches to confess. If you show my men to the forge, they can put the equipment there right now. I have brought it along in case it should be necessary to facilitate an awkward interrogation.’

  Now only a coffin-like object remained on the back of the wagon. It was firmly secured to the floor and sides of the vehicle by struts and ropes and protected by a waterproof covering.

  ‘Come with me, count, I would like to show you something,’ the archbishop said in a tone which brooked no dissent. Then, with the assistance of the castle chaplain, he ascended the ladder that was still attached to the wagon and waited for the Count of Landskron to climb up.

  ‘What is this – a truly special instrument of torture?’ the Count of Landskron asked with a contempt that could not be missed.

  ‘You’d think!’ the archbishop replied cheerfully. ‘The few items my men have carried to the forge are generally more than sufficient. Usually the mere sight of glowing iron is enough to extract a confession. No, here in this box is my gift to the good people of Oppenheim on the imminent consecration of St Catherine’s Church. Whose vicar, by the way, will be your castle chaplain.’

  The chaplain, who had climbed up after the count knelt down on hearing these words, kissed the archbishop’s ring and stammered: ‘Your grace, you are far too generous! I do not know how to thank you!’

  ‘Do not worry, when the moment comes, you will know what to do. Now stand up,’ the archbishop said in a most gracious tone.

  Then he gave a sign and two of the mercenaries loosened the ropes and freed the covering. With a theatrical gesture the archbishop pulled it away and what appeared was indeed a coffin fitted with small glass windows. Inside the coffin was a human skeleton with finger bones interlocked, laid out on a long red velvet cushion and dressed in a tunic sumptuously embroidered in gold. ‘Saint Catherine, a relic for her church in Oppenheim!’ the archbishop proclaimed so solemnly in such a thunderous voice that all the bystanders, including the men on the wagon, immediately uncovered their heads, knelt and made the sign of the cross.

  Chapter VII

  Anna knew that the archbishop with his entourage had arrived because one of the guards posted outside her door had informed her. Berbelin, who was with her, had collapsed into her chair at the soldier’s words and was praying quietly. Anna, to all appearances, remained impassive and relaxed but inside she was boiling. Where was Brother Thomas? If he didn’t get back in time with something really substantial against the archbishop she was lost.

  Since moving to the castle she had been permitted to be alone with Chassim only once. They had kissed and lain in each other’s arms, but it was Chassim who had regained his former dynamism since the plaster cast allowed him to move again unassisted. His youthful carefreeness, though, had yielded to a serious-minded confidence. Despite the counter measures they had taken, he insisted on hatching an escape plan with Anna which would come into force if all else failed, and Brother Thomas did not return in time or at all from his mission to Heisterbach monastery for whatever reason.

  ‘Maybe Brother Thomas has used the opportunity to disappear for ever,’ Chassim dared to suggest, but Anna vehemently contradicted him.

  ‘He would never do that. Brother Thomas would not betray me, I am absolutely sure of that. If he really doesn’t come back, he has either been apprehended or has had an accident.’

  Her reawakened trust in God meant that Anna still hoped for a fair trial. She had nothing to reproach herself for and Count Georg von Landskron personally guaranteed that she would be allowed to defend herself – which wasn’t always customary in such trials. In an extreme emergency Chassim would attempt to escape and somehow try to reach his father
’s estate, without telling his sister let alone his brother-in-law. He loved Anna and he would do everything to save her. He brushed aside their difference in social standing and didn’t care about the consequences. Anna knew that he meant what he said most seriously and honestly – she felt it. He was already making secret arrangements for an escape with his two grooms, even though she guessed that the archbishop would have posted guards everywhere in expectation of such an act of despair.

  At that moment the door was thrown open and a guard entered. ‘Get ready, the archbishop is coming to see you. Your maid is to leave. His grace wants to talk to you in private.’

  He led Berbelin out and Anna braced herself to face her arch enemy.

  Konrad von Hochstaden did not like surprises. Accompanied by the Count of Landskron, his nephew Gero, Abbot Sixtus and the castle chaplain, he was making a tour of the castle grounds to see for himself the places that would be significant in the coming days. He inspected the dungeons and the forge, and also the courtyard which would serve as the place of execution in the event of a guilty verdict.

  Lastly he sat in the reception hall on the seat intended for the chairman of the tribunal. Several rows of benches had been placed on both sides for the aldermen and guild masters, and opposite the judge’s bench there was standing room for the common people. In the middle of this square was the dock, the place for the accused. The archbishop had ordered that as many people as possible attend the trial. The crowd would be huge and the guards had been instructed to keep strict order.

  The archbishop looked around benignly and noted that the city mayor, a bald, heavy man of about forty, had arrived accompanied by a few opulently garbed gentlemen. When they were seated, he signalled to all present, stood up and addressed them.

  ‘Gentlemen. Tomorrow we will have to judge whether Anna from Ahrweiler, commonly known as the medica, is guilty or not guilty of the charge of being a depraved heretic who violates the purity of our faith with her sorcery, denies God and represents the devil. This is an onerous responsibility because in the event of a conviction, the honoured mayor who on the basis of his worldly authority is empowered to pronounce a death sentence, will order the accused to be burnt at the stake. By virtue of my office as archbishop conferred on me by Holy Mother Church and on the basis of the bull issued by Pope Lucius III in 1184, I hereby appoint myself inquisitor for the duration of the hearing. I will personally undertake the interrogation and, if necessary, order the use of torture in the search for truth. I appoint the honourable Abbot Sixtus, the honourable castle chaplain and the Count of Landskron as assessors and deputies. My nephew Gero von Hochstaden will be responsible for the conveyance of the witness and the smooth functioning of the proceedings.’