The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything

by Susan Skylark

  ~Nursery Rhyme~

  The Reason Why

  They called him The Dreadful Doctor in later years, but once men knew him as Doctor Fell, perhaps this unfortunate coincidence in naming contributed to the disquiet rumors concerning this now infamous man, whose name is now whispered in grim and insinuating tones. No one now living knows the truth, whether he is deserving of such infamy or not, but what does that matter as long as the story is interesting and becomes more so with each telling? For certainly sensation is more important than truth and the most horrid rumor must surely have a grain of veracity at its core?

  There was once a little village where flowers bloomed in spring and the leaves were the most fantastic shades of crimson and gold come autumn; it was quite a neat and pretty hamlet, the perfect setting for such a story as this. In this picturesque town there dwelt a physician, as trim and tidy as even the most persnickety of the townsfolk could demand. He was a gentleman in his fading years, not great of stature but with a midriff that one day might be quite remarkable if properly cultivated; he wore round spectacles and had a curious habit of cocking his head as he listened intently to his patient’s complaint, much like a bird studying the ground in search of a worm. His name was Fell, a strange moniker but certainly congenital and likely a result of heredity, as his father had borne the malady in his day, but despite this failing, he was an affable old gentleman and proficient in his trade. Besides his name, his only other flaw was the egregious habit of charging for his services, which none of his patients could quite understand, as he did a great service to his community and therefore his time and talents should be at their disposal and free of charge. It was quite monstrous that he would gouge his friends and neighbors solely to support his uncouth habit of eating and maintaining a quite unnecessary domicile.

  Despite his uncanny tendency to ask for remuneration for his services, the good doctor was not stingy or unfeeling in his dealings with those of lesser means, often charging little or nothing to those who could not afford his services. It was only those who could afford his services and felt disinclined to actually pay for them that saw him as an unprincipled and heartless miser and whispered their dissatisfaction upon this point far and wide. The son of one such discontent, a rather prosperous merchant, approached the estimable doctor one day and asked boldly of his venerable elder, “is it true sir, that you are such a heartless wretch as to demand payment up front, from even the poorest soul, else you will refuse to even listen to their pleas and are thus willing to let them die without succor?”

  The good doctor blinked once, looking strangely like a flummoxed sheep, made a noise that might have been either snort or laugh, adjusted his spectacles, and said in mild reproof, “who is it that has taught you to talk to your elders in such a fashion young man?”

  The impertinent whelp, his pride smarting sorely from this rather minor admonition, said scornfully, “avoiding the question are we? So it is true!” The old gentleman shook his head in wonder and bid the discourteous fellow good day before waddling sedately away, musing to himself on the rudeness of today’s youth. The boy ran to find his friends and immediately told the fabulous story which they carried home to their own families and soon many strange and preposterous tales were circulating around the village.

  Most of the goodhearted citizens held the doctor in high esteem and little heeded the mutterings of their less charitable neighbors, but the various visitors and travelers that passed through the village and some of the distant relations of the more gullible townsfolk soon heard the tales and eagerly passed them on. So it was that the unwitting doctor’s fame or rather infamy, grew as he calmly went about his rounds. Each telling became more fantastic than the last and eventually a truly hideous tale reached the very ears of the King, who dispatched a man to investigate the grim tales of a physician so foul that he refused to treat any but the richest of clients and fed the wasted remains of those unfortunates he refused to treat to his pigs.

  The man sent to investigate the veracity of this reprehensible tale was a young man of middling wealth and the second son of a minor noble, quite skilled in the use of both his sword and mind: a rare combination in any age. He garbed himself as the most wretched of beggars and entered the village in question at twilight. He coughed violently and seemed to shake with weakness. The pathetic creature drew disdainful looks from the few villagers yet abroad, thinking such a scoundrel had no place in their prim little hamlet. The faux wretch approached the inn but was soon driven from its confines by the distraught host who could not countenance such a guest, though he was obviously in desperate need of shelter from the coming night. As the bullyboy hustled the unfortunate from the establishment, the man choked out, “is there a doctor hereabouts?”

  The minion laughed heartlessly, “certainly, but he won’t be bothered by the likes of you, but if you must know, he lives just outside of town.” The beggar was tossed into the street and limped off in the direction of the infamous physician; the rough shook his head but smirked maliciously after the wretch before returning to the warm and cheerful common room.

  The noble youth stood outside the indicated house for some minutes, studying it in detail. At least the fiend in question did not seem to own any swine. He then approached the door and knocked feebly, trying to look the decrepit invalid huddling miserably within his tattered cloak against the chill of the night. A rotund sleepy man in his dressing gown, holding a candle, answered the summons and quickly took in the pathetic scene upon his doorstep and leapt into action, or as close to leaping as such a man ever came. He hastened the fellow into the house, fetched him hot tea and a bit of supper, wrapped him in whatever cloaks and blankets came easily to hand, and only after the man was comfortable did the sinister doctor ask if his visitor would like an examination and possible treatment of whatever ailed him. At this, the wretched creature magically acquired health and vitality and shed twenty years while donning a vastly amused smile. Doctor Fell watched this stunning transformation and was quickly apprised of the reason for this incongruous visit. They shared a hearty laugh and a night of wonderful conversation followed, so good in fact that they remained dear friends for the rest of their lives.

  The man returned to the King with his report of the infamous physician and shared in the King’s rightful mirth, but just because the King was satisfied did not mean that other tongues would cease their wagging, and soon the legend of Doctor Fell grew to such proportions that no one could now recognize the horrendous villain that was the unassuming country doctor of that pleasant little village and many wondered at the unfortunate coincidence of their sharing a now infamous name. So Doctor Fell continued to practice for many long years, perhaps silently amused by tales of the dreadful villain who purportedly shared his name and was no doubt asked quite often if they might not be related.