The Rose of Provence

by Susanna Lehner

  “No matter how great the power Princess de Poitiers has gained, this could never happen,” Amrita swayed her head.

  “Don’t underestimate her influence. She has been Henri’s lover almost as long as I’m his wife. She knew very well that although our marriage was bound by higher interest, and not out of love, we took a fancy to each other with Henri during the first year of our wedlock. But as I was a fourteen-fifteen-year-old virgin, I had no chance to give my husband, who has just been searching for his masculinity, with that which he had already experienced; a thirtyish woman was able to chain him to herself. She didn’t have an opponent in bodily love, so the only thing she had to do is to cool down Henri’s rising emotions he felt towards me. I’m afraid that by now, she managed to do this perfectly,” Catherine was gazing at her own reflection with a glassy look.

  “If Henri has ever loved you, the embers should still flicker. If this is the case, then it can burst into flames again anytime,” she consoled her.

  “Maybe you’re right, but soon, even this won’t matter either. I haven’t gotten pregnant during our ten years of marriage, and I haven’t given birth to a descendant to the future king. I’m a faulty product, don’t beautify it.”

  “But you are just twenty-four; you could still have even ten children!”

  “Oh, come on! If I didn’t conceive in my most fertile years, what could possibly change now? After the age of twenty-five, I’ll start growing older! If I’m not in a delicate condition by that time, they will send me home and find Henri a new wife. Of course, preferably someone whom Diane has control over from the very beginning,” she broke out and after a short pause, she added: “It’s obvious that it is my fault, because Henri has already had at least two children from his concubines. The best doctors treated me; I also tried charlatans in my despair but all in vain.”

  “Remember, the king has always protected you, until now,” Amrita pointed to the non-negligible circumstance.

  “True, my father-in-law likes me, but nowadays he is not in his best mood either; failures happened overseas. He gathered money in vain for the new expedition and sent his faithful man, Jacques Cartier with five ships to New France. The settlers’ supplies ran out by now, and they cannot prevent the aborigines’ attacks any longer either. The colony at the Ottawa River had to be liquidated, and they had to leave the land for good. On the other hand, though, Francois reigns for almost thirty years, but who knows for how long he will…”

  Amrita’s brisk fingers rested on the princess’ curls, and she looked in the mirror pensively. The daughter of the Florentine ruler, Lorenzo de Medici, the wife of the French crown prince, now looked like a frightened child. The shame of infertility, and the panic that she has to divorce her husband shaded her face simultaneously. No doubt, despite all the humiliation and neglect, she loved the prince.

  “Perhaps there is a chance…,” said Amrita, languidly.

  “What chance?” The princess eagerly snatched at the words.

  Amrita furrowed her eyebrows. She was wondering how she should inform her mistress and sound convincing without disclosing too much.

  “It’s true that I came to the court from the Belgrands from Limoges, but I lived in Provence before that. I worked as a governess, and the family’s housekeeper, Marie, was not only the master of roasts and desserts, but was skilled with medicinal plants as well. She taught me which herb is good for what and how I can prepare a brew from them to make a really effective potion. She also told me that a type of rose lives there, which cannot be found anywhere else in the world. It’s called Rosa Gallica. It has a stupefying fragrance, and its color is redder than blood; one can almost get dizzy under its climbing rose arbors. You have to collect the most beautiful petals of this rose, and have to prepare a brew from them according to the secret recipe. If you drink nothing else, but this juice for twenty-one days, you will get pregnant for sure. Of course, it is necessary to be with the prince on the night of the twenty-first day,” Amrita added with a smile.

  “Oh, the quacks have already given me all kinds of herb tea; they put sage under my pillow, which was picked at full moon, then prophesized when the future heir is going to be born. The dates are all gone and there were no results,” Catherine waved resignedly.

  “There are many charlatans, but believe me, what I recommend is truly effective. Or you know what? Don’t believe in it, just try it! You have nothing to lose,” Amrita rolled up the last curl and pinned on the top of the princess’ head.

  Catherine swept away some naughty tufts on her forehead, and then she started to speak after a short pause:

  “Well then, let’s give it a try! If your potion is successful, I will erect a statue for you with Master Cellini! However, he is planning to travel back to Florence, but he will certainly stay for my sake until the work is done.”

  “Oh come on, there’s no need for that,” laughing, she protested, then added: “With your permission, I'll set out tomorrow and be back in a few days with the rose nectar.”

  “Why don’t you bring the flowers with you, and prepare the potion here instead? I would love to see how you do it.”

  “It’s impossible. The petals have to be used within an hour.”

  “I see. Then, I resign it to you, do it at your discretion!”

  Amrita nodded. She was happy that she finally did not have to lie; she just didn’t disclose everything. For the princess, it’s needless to know that Marie was not a simple housekeeper who was, by the way, adept with medicinal plants. She also remained silent about the fact that not anyone can prepare the secret recipe, only a person who has certain abilities; like her.

  She put the unnecessary hairpins aside in their place, and was just about the leave the room when the mistress started to speak to her:

  “Do you know Earl de la Roux?”

  Amrita recoiled.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, unfortunately, I don’t really know him because he has only recently appeared once or twice in the court. The only thing I know about him is that he is unmarried and lives in an ancient castle along the Loire River in Langeais. He is deliriously handsome, don’t you think?” She winked at Amrita conspiratorially.

  “Well, yes. He is said to be very attractive,” answered the girl carefully, and tried not to think about all the things she knew about Morgan.

  “Really attractive?” Catherine raised her eyebrow incredulously. “Have you ever looked into those blinding blue eyes? During the ball, all the noble ladies sitting around me were buzzing about him, but even my maids blush if his name is mentioned. I love my husband, but I’m afraid I couldn’t resist the earl, even for ten minutes.”

  Amrita cleared her throat.

  “If you don’t need me, I would leave you alone now.”

  “Of course, just leave,” waved the princess, and it was obvious that she was still thinking about the earl.

  Chapter 4

  Ruby of Provence

  Arles, Provence – 4-7 April 1543

  Amrita’s carriage departed before daybreak, at four o’clock in the morning, and after a complete day of travel, she arrived in Lyon when the night was just about to give way to the dawn. Although she was dozing off a bit during the jolting ride, the coachman and the horses needed to rest as well, so they stopped at the first inn. They still had a lengthy way to go, so they didn’t stay for long. They woke up the innkeeper, had something to eat, and then slept for a few hours. They continued their journey before sunrise, so they arrived in Arles at twilight.

  The carriage stopped in front of an ashlared house, the high stone wall of which was surrounded by lavender fields stretching into the distance. White rambler roses were climbing up to the wrought-iron gate, and on the windows, painted blue wooden panels were inviting the weary sunbeams.

  “Thank you, Charles! Now go, have a rest and come for me tomorrow at dawn,” Amrita told the coachman who nodded, slapped between the haggard horses, and drove away towards the town.

  Sh
e peeped in between the grids of the gate as much as the prolific leaves allowed, but she only saw a black cat lying lazily on the bench under the old lime tree. She pulled the chain of the tinkler. The little bell started tinkling, and the cat slowly opened its yellowish-green eyes. Then, the ding-dong died away, only the buzzing of the bees and the doves’ cooing could be heard. Long minutes passed before a slender woman appeared from behind the oleander bushes, in the depth of the garden.

  “I’m sorry darling for making you wait, but I’m just preparing jam from the yellow tea rose, and I had to stir it once again. You know how sensitive these flowers are! If you don’t treat them as they want it, you can whistle for the delicacies.”

  “No problem Marie, I can wait, but the tea roses really can’t,” she smiled sympathetically. “Illustrious, pampered crowd!”

  The woman opened the gate with a wide motion.

  “Jérome kept guard on the bench all day long today; he can see the entrance from there,” she waved towards the fair-sized tomcat. “I was sure that a welcome guest would arrive.”

  She swept aside a silver-colored tuft on her forehead and accompanied Amrita to the bench. She also sat down, placed the black cat in her lap, and let her describe the reason for her visit.

  “We haven’t seen each other for ten years, since I moved to Limoges,” started Amrita as she took a deep breath from the floral fragranced air.

  “My heart still aches when I think about those years in Provence; I loved living here. But you know I couldn’t stay any longer because people would have found out that I don’t get older. How come you weren’t forced to leave?”

  “After I resigned at the La Fontaines, I didn’t go to work as a housekeeper again in town. Since then, I’ve been living here in privacy, I don’t mingle with people. Everything I need grows in my garden: the succulent tomatoes and potatoes, my goat provides milk, of which I make cheese. My bees supply me with honey, and I haven’t even mentioned these wonderful roses. I make jams, syrup, wine and cakes from them, and then I sell these, so I can buy flour and salt from the money. If my customers come, the flange of my hat casts a shadow on my face, and they see my peepy hair only,” she pointed to her hoary curls, smiling.

  “When I left, you had dark-brown hair. And just like me, you don’t age, so you cannot go grey either…”

  “No, I can’t! I prepare the brew from jasmine flower and ground oyster shell, and I stain my hair with that.”

  “It’s funny that the noble ladies are trying to hide their graying curls with lampblack and other things, and you do exactly the opposite!” Amrita laughed, then after a short pause, she continued: “But let me tell you the purpose of my arrival… I’ve been living in the royal court for a while; I’m the companion of Catherine, the spouse of the crown prince, and a serious problem oppresses my mistress. She has been the wife of the prince for ten years, but she can’t get pregnant, and if she is not going to conceive soon, she has to leave the castle and the country as well. I promised to help her, so I came here to prepare rose nectar.”

  “Yes, the nectar of the Rosa gallica is extremely effective in the case of such troubles. But you obviously know that the strongest potion can only be made at the time of the full moon, and it’s almost two weeks ahead.”

  “I know! That is also why I need your help. Because the more people cook the rose nectar, the more effective the potion will be the next time. I’ve made it roughly ten times only, but you have done it several hundred times! We substitute the power of the full moon with this.”

  “You’re right,” nodded Marie. “How long will you stay?”

  “I have to leave tomorrow at dawn.”

  “We cannot idle then! If we prepare the nectar by midnight and let it stand until the break of day among the bushes and in the fragrance of the living roses, then one phial will be enough for your mistress to give birth to a baby boy by the middle of winter.”

  She put Jérome in the girl’s hands, sprang up from the bench swiftly, and hurried into the house. After a short while, she returned with a book.

  “My recipes,” she held out the linen-covered volume towards Amrita.

  “What happened to the yellowed parchment bundle?”

  “It’s necessary to follow the latest trends! One of my customers is a binder, so I asked for an empty book of him, and then I copied the recipes from the parchment.”

  Amrita took the purple linen-covered book in her hand, and turned some pages.

  “Why is it so fragrant?” She sniffed the air with her eyes closed.

  “I soaked the linen in lavender water; it got the color from that too. Then, I covered the binder with it.”

  The girl glanced at the sheets; the book was left open exactly at the recipe of the rose nectar.

  “Even if I woke up in the middle of the night, I know it by heart,” she murmured, but it was good to absorb the words again.

  Fecundating Rose Nectar

  First of all, prepare rose honey for the rose nectar: make a thick syrup of the freshly picked petals from the noblest tea roses and sugar until the petals are completely cooked. The rose honey is particularly effective against women’s problems.

  When the honey is ready, collect two cups of Rosa gallica, but only from the blood-red type. Add four cups of boiled spring water and let it stand in a glass bowl. Stir often so the petals always stay under water. If the liquid is fragrant enough, strain it, then add the nectar of the tea rose and three pinches of dried verbena. Finally, pour the potion into a phial, which can be locked well.

  The person who drinks it every morning for twenty-one days, will conceive a boy, and who sips it in the evenings, will give birth to a baby girl.

  “Come, have something to eat!” Marie invited her before the girl could say anything else. “There’s baked fish left from lunch; it was caught in the Rhône River this morning. For dessert, I’ll give you some donuts with rose jam; I know it’s your favorite.”

  Amrita had a hearty dinner. The zander, which was crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, almost melted in her mouth. And the fresh donut, bathing in the sweet jam, was just as succulent as in her memories.

  After dinner, they started to cook: they prepared the honey, then the rose water and finally mixed the two into a balmy nectar. They locked it in a crystal phial and lay it among the rose bushes for the night.

  At dawn, when the rattling carriage arrived, Amrita was already waiting for it. She said good-bye to Marie and set out again on the two-day journey. As she left behind the light purple lavender fields, looming in the dim light of the dawn, and the golden vineyards, her heart was filled with pain. However, by the time she arrived in Paris in the evening on the following day, she had already buried the homesickness deep in her soul.

  She hurried to the princess’ suite to hand over the phial, which was filled to the brim with the ruby potion, but she didn’t find Catherine alone: her maid was rambling there as well.

  “Oh, I’m sorry for rushing in like this; I’ll come back later.” She excused herself, but the mistress waved her down.

  “No problem, moreover, it’s good you came. At least you can report to us what you found in the south where you visited your relatives,” she looked at Amrita, meaningfully.

  “Thank you for your question, everything is perfectly fine at home,” answered the girl carefully.

  “I'm interrogating you, because news arrived that the plague reared its head again in Marseille.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” responded the girl, flabbergasted. “It means that the contagion hasn’t reached Arles yet.”

  Catherine waved the maid to leave. After they were alone, Amrita pulled out the crystal phial from the hidden pocket of her skirt.

  “Here is the nectar, I promised.”

  The princess snatched the bottle out of her hands and tried to free the tiny cork, but Amrita stopped her.

  “Wait! Drink at this time, after sunset, only if you want to call the baby girl’s soul coming
from the empire of the Moon. If you would like to have a baby boy, just sip it when the Sun has already risen. If you do this for twenty-one mornings and sleep with your husband on the night of the twenty-first day, the desired successor is conceived.”

  “I believe it but also don’t know what you’re saying…,” Catherine looked at her trustingly.

  At this moment, there was a knock on the door, and Henri entered with another man behind him.

  “Let me introduce Doctor Nostradame, who has recently arrived home from Sicily, and he is paying his respects to our court,” said the prince, but he did not take his eyes off Amrita. “We’ll ask for his advice how we can avoid the spread of the epidemic. After all, he earned the name ‘plague doctor’ because of his undying merits during the great plagues of the 1520s.”

  “Welcome, Michel! I’ve heard so many good things about you,” the princess stepped up to the fortyish man with a strong angular jaw.

  The doctor politely returned the greeting, but when he caught sight of Amrita, he recoiled like someone who has seen a ghost. The prince thought that the girl’s flaming red hair and unearthly beauty mesmerized the guest as well, but there was something more than that. Michel de Nostradame recognized his juvenile love in the girl.

  Chapter 5

  The Plague Doctor

  Montpellier, Provence – 1528 summer

  Though the doctor stood riveted to the ground in the middle of the pompous room of the Louvre palace, his memories took him on their wings and sent him back to the summer of 1528, to the sunlit Provence.

  There was no doubt: the Creator blessed Michel de Nostradame with brilliant talent. By the time he was twenty-five, he had already left behind his philosophical, astronomical and astrological studies, and after he completed five years at the famous medical university of Montpellier, he received a lower-level doctoral degree and the certificate justifying the licentiate. However, he had to postpone the acquisition of the higher level doctoral degree because of the outbreak of the serious plague epidemic. He took the role of the plague doctor that demanded great courage and use of all his efforts to restrain the epidemic. The disease proved to be incurable, so the doctor’s primary task was to strengthen the patients’ immune system, give advice to the magistrates of the town, and maintain the observance of hygiene measures. He used balms, volatile oils, garlic leaves, rosemary and other herbs against the spreading of the infection, and he himself was dressed from head to toe, even in the greatest heat, wearing hood, broad-brimmed hat, gloves, mid-calf boots and a mask covering the eyes with glass to protect against the infection, walking among the patients. Despite the ceaseless heart and soul demanding job, the uncomfortable costume and the constant presence of danger, he did not fall ill thanks to his strong body and persistence, but it was rumored that perhaps the protection of the heavens also contributed to this. The people were grateful for his efforts, and with his efforts, he gained fame at a very young age. Many even called him a doctor prodigy.