Brimstone

by Skinner, Alan

  When she finished, the doctor looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Masterwort was a good choice. Not many know how to find it. And you carry poppy juice? Decocted or extracted?’

  Jenny hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. I ... I don’t know what those words mean.’

  ‘Did you just boil the plant, or drain its milk before it bloomed?’

  ‘We slice the bud and take the milk,’ Jenny said. ‘Mother claims that the stock from boiling is much weaker, though good for headaches and hysteria.’

  Styche appeared impressed. ‘Extracted. And you know how to do that?’

  Jenny nodded.

  ‘You’ve been taught well,’ said the doctor. ‘Now, what shall we do about the patient? Would you change the bandages this morning?’

  Jenny shook her head. ‘No. Never within two days, preferably three, unless the bleeding won’t stop. The less the wound is disturbed, the better. Just another pad over the blood that’s come through.’

  ‘I agree. Too many physicians fuss their patients to death. You’d make a good healer, Jenny.’

  ‘You’re too late, Styche,’ said Antrobus (still rhyming the name with itch). ‘She’s my apprentice. And she’ll be much more than a healer. Now, you come here without my asking, you do nothing, and you take advice from a mere girl – and you’ll have the audacity to charge me for it. If you really do have any other patients – though I doubt it – you’d best attend them and leave me to get out of bed. I have a busy day ahead.’

  Styche shook his head. ‘This young lady will look after you as well as I. Better, if she can get you to stay in bed.’ He put his hand on Jenny’s shoulder and spoke to her softly. ‘I didn’t know your father well, and never knew your mother at all. He must love her a great deal, and she must be a good woman and good healer. Forgive me for my words. They were the rantings of an irritable old man with poor opinions.’ He walked to the door, where he stopped briefly and looked back at Antrobus. ‘And you can be sure that I will send my bill. Two groats at least!’ And he left to a cry of ‘Robber quack!’ from the patient.

  ‘Now, cover my bandages so I don’t stain my clothes, then leave me to get dressed,’ said Antrobus when the doctor was gone. ‘There’s a lot to be done today. You are to meet the chancellor and then I have to get you settled in your quarters.’

  ‘I won’t be living here with you?’ said Jenny in surprise.

  ‘It wouldn’t be fitting. There’ll be talk enough, you just being my apprentice, without you being under the same roof,’ said Antrobus. ‘Arrangements have been made for you to lodge not far from here.’

  Jenny didn’t comment. She didn’t care one way or the other whether she lived in Antrobus’s house or with the apprentices. Neither place was where she wanted to be.

  Jenny cut new pads of linen, and as she put them over the bandages, she told Antrobus about the previous night’s intruder. She found it curious that he showed neither alarm nor surprise.

  ‘And you didn’t see his face, Jenny? And you can’t be certain that he was only in the star room?’

  ‘You mean the room at the top?’ asked Jenny. Antrobus nodded. ‘I don’t think so. I was ... downstairs when I first heard him. I think he went straight up there.’ Jenny felt ashamed that she had been in his study and she let Antrobus assume she had been in the kitchen or the front room.

  ‘Probably just a chance thief. We don’t get many in Vale,’ said Antrobus. ‘For your own safety, Jenny, you would have been better to run to the square warden. A man called Pitch. He lives –’

  ‘Next to the stables at the end of the square.’ Jenny noticed the question in Antrobus’s eyes. ‘I met him last night. He carried you here when you fainted.’

  ‘I wondered how you got me to my bed,’ said Antrobus. ‘I must thank Pitch for his help. Now, we have many things to do. Go. Let me dress. I can hear Mistress Grimpledge downstairs – ask her to set some breakfast for us and then we’ll start the day’s business.’

  Jenny left Antrobus to wash and dress. By the time he joined them in the kitchen, Jenny had already eaten one bowl of Annie’s porridge, sweetened with honey, and had a second helping while Antrobus sat down to eat his first. When they had finished, Jenny picked up her bag and followed Antrobus from the house.

  Once again the alchemist led the way through the labyrinth of Vale. They walked beneath archways and down narrow alleys that ran along the backs of houses like a spine; they walked through magnificent squares lined with elegant, imposing mansions, and they hurried through small, mean squares with ramshackle houses and ragged children in the street; they pushed through the crowds of the marketplaces and nodded politely to robed men and women in the professional quarters. And in each place, Jenny was aware of the stares and whispers as she passed by. And once again, she noticed the look of despair in some of the faces.

  At last they came to the palace. Whereas the city was a maze of alleys, lanes, thoroughfares and squares, the palace was a warren of corridors, closets, offices and halls. The bustle of trade was replaced by the hustle of politics. The only difference was the noise. The city was alive with noise; the loudest sound in the palace was the clacking of shoes on the stone floors.

  ‘Do all these people live in the palace?’ asked Jenny.

  ‘Most of them live in one of the squares close by,’ Antrobus said. ‘Only the senior palace administrators, some palace staff and those who attend the Duke live here.’

  It was a strange, bewildering world to Jenny, full of officials, courtiers, professionals and servants. The officials scurried, their faces masks of worry. The courtiers strolled, feigning indifference and confidence, but their eyes were constantly seeking signs of who was doing what, or who was in favour and who was out of it. The professionals walked purposefully, solemn and grave but always aware of who deserved a polite nod and whom they could afford to disdain. Of all the people she saw, Jenny noticed it was the servants who showed the most differences in their behaviour. Some walked purposefully but kept their heads low, barely looking anyone in the eye; some strutted, ignoring everyone; and others seemed never to walk faster than the most important-looking person in front of them.

  But all of them cast glances at Jenny, even those who had the skill of seeing while looking at the floor. Some of the glances were curious, some were full of disapproval, some were surprised and one or two were fearful. None were kind.

  Antrobus knew his way around the palace. Many of the professionals bowed their head in greeting and some even ventured a passing ‘Hello’ or muttered a friendly ‘Antrobus’ as they nodded. Those courtiers who greeted him generally did so with a wave of a hand. Jenny felt as if she followed in the wake of a ship under full sail in an ocean of sea monsters. Despite the resentment she still felt, she hurried after Antrobus in case she was cast adrift in such strange waters.

  Antrobus stopped abruptly at a large polished door. He straightened his cap and turned to Jenny and mimed straightening her clothes. Jenny smoothed her shift and pushed a wisp of hair behind her ear. Antrobus nodded his approval. Then he knocked on the door. It opened, swinging wide into the room. A servant in blue and gold livery stood just inside and bowed to Antrobus. Taking this as his cue to enter, the alchemist walked in. Jenny hesitated, then followed.

  A man in a light grey robe sat behind a desk, scribbling. He was clean-shaven and had a high forehead, slightly exaggerated by his retreating hair. His eyes, sharp and intelligent, raised from his work. His face creased in a broad, open smile and he rose from his chair and approached Antrobus with his hand outstretched.

  ‘Richard, how good to see you,’ said the man, shaking Antrobus’s hand. ‘Are you sure you should be out of bed so soon? You’re looking very pale. Please, have a seat.’

  The man ushered Antrobus to a chair.

  ‘I am well enough, Hugh. I see you are as well informed as usual. I suspect the arrow was scarcely out of my shoulder when you knew the colour of its feathers,’ said Antrobus.

  The chancellor gave a modest smile.
‘It pays to know what happens in Vale, especially to our most important citizens,’ he said. He turned his sharp eyes on Jenny. ‘And this is the young lady?’ He beckoned for Jenny to approach.

  ‘Yes, this is she,’ said Antrobus. ‘May I present Jenny Swift, of Queerwood? Jenny, this is Chancellor Hugh Montebray.’

  The chancellor smiled at Jenny and gave a slight bow of his head. She was aware that he was looking at her with considerable interest, his intense eyes trying to take her measure. Whether he was satisfied with what he saw, she couldn’t be sure, for he said nothing. He simply turned and went back to his desk, waving an arm in the direction of an empty seat next to Antrobus. She took this as a sign to sit.

  ‘Well,’ began Montebray, ‘she’s her mother’s daughter, right enough. She’ll set the tongues wagging and the eyes popping. The people of Vale don’t see many brown faces and almond eyes – a light shade of brown, admittedly, but brown nonetheless.’ The chancellor looked hard at Antrobus. ‘Are you sure about this, Richard? There has never been a woman alchemist in Vale. Nor in any city in the world, as far as I know. And to be an outsider, as well –’

  ‘She’s not an outsider,’ Antrobus snapped. ‘She belongs to Vale as much as any.’

  ‘Yes, yes, Richard, I know,’ said the chancellor soothingly. ‘Don’t forget that Ewan Swift worked for me once.’

  ‘Forgive my temper,’ said Antrobus. ‘My shoulder makes me irritable. But we have discussed this, Hugh. We cannot lose this chance.’

  ‘You’re right, of course,’ said Montebray. He looked at his hands for a moment, then asked, ‘How much does she know?’

  ‘I’ve said nothing, nor have her parents, as we agreed. She was simply told that when the time came, she was to be apprenticed to me.’

  The chancellor nodded, then looked at Jenny. She had listened to the exchange between her new master and the chancellor. None of it made sense. What was she supposed to know? What had her parents kept from her?

  ‘We’re talking as if she wasn’t here, which is very rude of us,’ the chancellor said. He sat back in his chair, locking his fingers together and resting them on his stomach. He looked at his hands again, as if they held all the answers. Then, without moving his head, he raised his eyes and fixed them on the young girl.

  ‘Antrobus seems to think you have a special gift, a talent he has never seen in anyone. In fact, if I were to press him on the matter, I’m sure he would say that it’s a talent so special he wouldn’t have thought it possible for a person to have such a gift.’

  He saw the doubt and puzzlement in Jenny’s eyes.

  ‘I’m sure you don’t understand, or don’t believe that there is anything special about you. Well, I find it hard to believe myself. It’s only my regard for Richard that makes me take seriously what he’s said. When he first told me of his plan to make you his apprentice, several years ago, I did my best to talk him out of it. True, there are some female apprentices, but only a few and in appropriate professions. Legally, of course, young girls can be apprenticed to any master, but in some things custom is more persuasive than law.’

  Then let custom send me back to my home, Jenny pleaded silently.

  The chancellor continued. ‘The idea of a young woman as an alchemist is disturbing to many people. Most believe that women do not have the capacity for science. And that a young girl should be the apprentice of a great alchemist like Antrobus, for whom politics and power are as much a part of his life as crucibles and brimstone, frightens them. Despite the fact that our Duke was for many years wisely guided by his aunt Bernice, common wisdom says that women are ill-suited to the rough and tumble of politics, and are too unpredictable to wield power. Yet, I was persuaded. Not just by him, but by you.’

  ‘Me?’ exclaimed Jenny. ‘But I have never met you before! I never wanted this!’

  The chancellor smiled at her kindly. ‘It wasn’t anything you said, Jenny. It was what you did. Perhaps Master Antrobus should explain.’

  Through the tall arched window Antrobus could see a bird building its nest in a tree in the palace garden. He watched it for a few seconds. It moved with the energy and liveliness of spring, though that season was still a nearly a fortnight away. He thought of a small cottage deep in Queerwood and sighed inwardly. Aloud he said, ‘You seem to have always been curious and independent. Your parents encouraged it, and let you roam Queerwood and discover its mysteries and wonders. On one such exploration, when you were five, you found a man lying in the road in the forest. He was very sick, for he had been poisoned. I’m not sure whether you knew that there was no time to fetch your mother, or you knew it wasn’t necessary, but you gathered what you needed, prepared a potion and made him drink it. Once you knew he would live, you fetched your father and mother. They brought him back to their cottage to care for him, but it was you who insisted on tending him until he was well enough to leave.’

  ‘I remember that man,’ said Jenny, her voice soft with a happy memory. ‘I liked him. He talked a lot to me. But how did you know about this?’

  ‘That man you saved was William, my brother,’ said Antrobus. His voice, too, softened but Jenny could hear both happiness and sadness in it. ‘He had been away a long time. He was on his first visit back to Vale in more than a dozen years when you found him, Jenny. When he was well, he made it to Vale and he told me of a child who knew things she could not possibly have learned, as if she had been born with the knowledge inside her.

  ‘William was not a man easily impressed. Did I say he was an alchemist, too? Well, he was. So, when he told me, I took an interest in the strange forest child who knew things she hadn’t been taught. At first I was just curious, then I saw that William had been right. You knew things outside healing, things no one could possibly have taught you, things for which there is no explanation.

  ‘Once, you had your revenge on some forest village children who were bullying you, by making their tongues, hands and feet turn green. You told them you wouldn’t undo it until they swore to leave you alone. You really must tell me how you did that, one day.

  ‘There were other things too, and I knew that, when the time came, there would be only one I would choose as my apprentice.’

  Antrobus looked Jenny full in the face. He waited for her to speak but she didn’t know what to say. She had never questioned why she knew what she did; she just knew them, like she knew that water quenched her thirst, or that when she was little, she had to stand on a stool to reach the top shelf of the larder. It was all just a natural part of her.

  It was the chancellor who spoke.

  ‘I didn’t believe it, Jenny. Then Antrobus reminded me of a young Vale boy who could compose whole songs by the time he was four, and who had taught himself to play almost any instrument by the time he was eight. From time to time, someone is born who has something special inside them.’

  Jenny nodded as if she understood. She wasn’t sure she did, and she knew she’d need time to think about what she was being told. Her question surprised the others.

  ‘Why did William go away for so long? Did he go travelling again?’

  Antrobus took a moment to answer.

  ‘William believed that much of the knowledge we seek had already been learned; that alchemists and sages of other lands, other tongues and other times, discovered much of what we seek to understand now. But no one had collected it in one place so we could share it. He set out to do just that.’

  Antrobus stared out the window again. He could see the half-built nest but its architect was gone, off somewhere gathering more twigs and leaves for its home. He kept his gaze on the nest as he answered her second question.

  ‘William never left Vale again. Less than a month after you healed him, he died,’ he said. Then, in a voice so low that Jenny barely heard him, he added, ‘They poisoned him again; the second time there was no one to save him.’

  Jenny felt a hole open inside her, a dark blemish of sadness in her heart. For years, she had not thought of the man she ha
d tended and the memory was vague. But knowing his name gave the memory form and seeing Antrobus’s silent grief gave it clarity. And for a reason she couldn’t explain, she felt guilty that she hadn’t been there the second time.

  Montebray cleared his throat.

  ‘Now you understand why you were chosen. Your parents didn’t like it but they knew there was nothing they could do. They also knew, I think, that it was best for you, though sometimes parents can’t believe that anything can be better for their children than the love they give them.’

  The chancellor looked at Antrobus, who was still staring out of the window. The bird had returned and was weaving a long blade of grass into the twigs. He watched as it poked the grass in one side, then tugged it through to the other with its beak. Again and again it hopped from one side to the other, until the long sliver of grass was firmly woven into its little home.

  Who taught the bird to do that? he wondered.

  He sensed the chancellor’s eyes on him, or felt the silence, for he turned away from the window. He looked at Montebray, saw the question in his face and nodded.

  ‘There is another thing, Jenny. Something you may speak about only to Antrobus,’ said the chancellor.

  Now he truly looked like a chancellor to Jenny. He was solemn and serious and grave. She wondered uncomfortably what he was about to tell her.

  ‘Vale faces a serious threat. Famine. Last year, a lot of our crops died before they were ready to reap. They sprouted in spring as they should, and as summer began we knew we would have a fine harvest. Then, suddenly, they began to wither and die. It wasn’t a plague of insects, nor the weather. It was if the plants just got sick and died. Many families lost their whole crop, and with nothing to sell and no food for the winter, they were forced to leave their farms and holdings. Most came into the city, looking for work and food. Too many for us to provide for.’