“Come and have a look,” he said. “Pick out something for yourselves and I’ll have the rest delivered to the others. Samantha walked up and started taking things out one by one. Together we pieced together outfits consisting of a basic chemise with a bodice that laced up the front and matching overskirts. The material felt rough and scratchy in my hands. Wool or linen, I guessed. The shoes were a bigger problem. The soft worn leather lace up boots fit neither of us . . . we were too tall and our feet were larger in comparison. There were a few loose pieces of fabric neither of us could figure out.
“Head wraps, or veils,” Dr. Thorpe explained, watching us. I took those out too and closed the trunk.
“You’ll have to wear your existing shoes until you start getting paid, then I’ll take you to the cobbler who can make you a pair of boots that will fit you before winter comes. You both are taller than the average female here, aside from the half-vampires.”
Samantha and I trudged up the stairs to don our new . . . or I should say old clothes. Even though they were worn, it felt nice to put something different on.
“What are you going to do with your hair?” she asked me as she braided her own into a single long plait that trailed down her back. She looked like she fit in more than I did with her long braid. She chose a tan overskirt and bodice to go with her chemise that was customary to wear underneath.
I took up the long rectangular scrap of fabric and folded it in half lengthwise. It was black so it would go with anything. I placed it around my forehead and hairline like a bandana down and around to the nape of my neck where I tied it into a knot and let the loose ends trail down my back. I had chosen a very faded worn red overskirt and a faded gray leather bodice to go over my chemise.
“You look like a gypsy . . . or a weird biker girl,” Samantha teased.
“Well, at least it should keep my hair out of the way,” I mused on my practicality.
Together we descended the stairs to meet Dr. Thorpe’s inspection. “Now the two of you actually look like you belong here. Let’s get started with your training.”
I tried my best to stay focused as Dr. Thorpe became engaged showing me and Samantha around the small one roomed clinic we now found ourselves in. I had to try to shut off the part of my brain that told me I should be spending my time trying to find a way back home rather than learning a new job and my place in this society.
“Evelyn, please pay attention,” the doctor said emphatically as I looked away from the collection of jars and containers he had laid out on the table. “I know you are going through a lot right now . . . but you need to stay focused to survive here. If there was a way to send you, your friends, and myself home, I would do it,” he said it softly as if he was reading my mind.
“I’m sorry, Doctor,” I mumbled as I stepped closer to see what he was trying to teach.
“Modern medicine does not exist here,” he elaborated. “Most of the treatments we have available come from herbs . . . herbs we grow, and herbs we harvest. I was out on the mountain collecting some of them and on my way back here when I found you. We often have to prepare them for use by drying them and grinding them up to be used in tonics, poultices, wraps, and in broths.” He stopped to pull out a thick, worn, hand-bound book to show us. “I have kept a record of what I have tried and had success with in here,” he said showing us the book. I have also cataloged where to find them and how to prepare them.”
“That should be very helpful,” I observed, actually feeling surprised that Dr. Thorpe was that organized. I figured him for a fly by the seat of his pants kind of person. “I also keep a small garden on the side of the building to grow not only summer vegetables but herbs as well. It will be important for us to tend to it and keep it watered on a daily basis.”
Samantha and I nodded when the door suddenly swung open and a young woman came rushing in with a crying child, perhaps four or five years old, in her arms. She eyed us warily before approaching Dr. Thorpe.
“Dr. Thorpe! Mary fell off the wagon in the field and her arm has been injured!”
“Put her over here,” the doctor instructed, moving towards one of the cots. The woman sat the child on the cot in her lap as the doctor approached to begin evaluating the child. Samantha and I quickly followed him and observed as he carefully took the child’s small arm in his hands to examine it while the mother stroked her head and tried to calm her.
The child kept wailing as the doctor gently felt the arm. I realized he was assessing to see if there was a break. The gravity of reality sank in as I remembered that there were no x-ray machines here. “I’m afraid that she has a small break,” he said after a moment, gently setting the child’s arm down on a pillow. “We will need to set it.”
Set it? However would we do that? I wondered.
“Evelyn, Samantha, you will need to assist me,” he said as he moved back over to the desk and supplies at the opposite end of the room. We went with him while the child’s mother stayed with her.
“What are you going to set it with?” I asked.
“Silk and plaster.”
“Plaster?”
“Yes, that’s all we have,” he replied simply. He pulled out some pre-cut strips of a rough looking fabric and laid them on the table. Next he took out a small bucket. “Samantha, go to the well and draw up some water,” he instructed. “It’s in the center of the village, just keep going straight out the door.”
“Okay,” she said glancing at me, looking a little nervous about going out there by herself before hurrying off.
“Evelyn, you are going to prepare the plaster.” He pulled out a large cracked urn filled with a rough, gray powdered substance. Next, I watched as he went over to his collection of jarred herbs and selected one called knitbone. “Here,” he said calling to me. “Take the book and look this up.”
I complied. There’s nothing like on the job training. The knitbone apparently needed to be mixed with oil to make a compress to help ease the pain and promote healing. It would need to be reapplied with each cast change. I took the measuring spoons he offered me and began making the child’s compress. After it was mixed we took it over to her and applied it gently to her arm. She wasn’t sobbing anymore, but it was still evident that she was in pain.
Samantha burst back in through the doors with the bucket of water. We all returned to the work table where I was instructed to mix small amounts of the powdered plaster little by little with the water until it resembled a thin paste.
“Now, bring this over there and we will set her arm.”
Dr. Thorpe held Mary’s arm into alignment as he told me how to dunk the silk strips in the mixture and ring them out before wrapping them around the child’s forearm. “Don’t make it too tight,” he said. “Remember that she’ll swell and we don’t want to cut off her circulation.” I nodded and continued until we had successfully set her arm. “Now, she needs to remain still for a few hours for this to dry. Bring her back tomorrow so we can check on her.”
“Yes, Doctor,” the mother replied.
After they left I asked, “that’s it? Aren’t they supposed to pay you?”
“No. Our services are complimentary to the villagers. They can’t afford it anyway. It’s all part of a program that I developed with Princess Emeley to provide care for the villagers. You see . . . we help to keep them healthy and functional, and in return they continue to be productive in their work in the fields, the mill, and so forth. Ultimately it benefits the whole society and the castle. We, however, are paid for our services by the crown.”
“That seems very generous of them,” I replied.
“I helped them to realize the benefits of keeping the villagers well. It has taken many years, but I believe that they now see the value in it. Without me, the village would have run rampant with illness and injury. There are more quacks than well trained doctors in this world. The royals know legitimate skills when they see them.”
The rest of the afternoon Dr. Thorpe showed us his collection of herb
s and described what they were used for. Here and there, patients came and went with various ailments like bee stings, cuts, and other miscellaneous issues. At the end of the day Samantha and I were exhausted.
“This is nothing compared to what it will be like when the soldiers return home,” Dr. Thorpe said as we closed the doors. “Come, let me show you the way to the cookhouse so that you can meet up with your other companions.” I noticed that as we walked, he coughed quite a bit. I tried not to think much about it as we went to supper.
Samantha and I trailed after him on the way to the East Wing Cookhouse. The realization of being stared at as we walked started to make me nervous again. Though I could hardly blame the people here. We were outsiders from another world; I doubt they would ever trust us. As we approached the famous cookhouse, I could see that it appeared to be a little more than a covered outdoor kitchen with tree stumps and crudely constructed wooden picnic tables scattered around it. It reminded me of an outdoor pavilion at the local park district with the only difference being that in addition to a rotisserie and grill, it was set up as a functioning kitchen. Several of the servants from the castle and some of the villagers began to flock to one of the tables stacked with wooden dishes, forming a line. Dr. Thorpe led us over to one of the guards standing by to introduce us to him and explain who we were and that we were allowed to come here and eat. I noticed that some of our other companions started to arrive as well. Dr. Thorpe explained that in these times most of the kitchens were outdoors for safety measures in order to prevent fires from breaking out from within the castle.
“How was your first day of work?” Sarah asked both me and Samantha as she arrived for supper; dressed in one of the garments we had not chosen when we first saw the trunk. She also wore a linen chemise like us but her overskirt and bodice can be described as an olive green color. As she awaited our reply she pulled off the head wrap that concealed her short dark blonde hair. The above shoulder length of it seemed out of place here next to all of the villagers and peasants who either wore head wraps or long braids like Samantha. I noticed some of the servants and guards present gave us all looks.
“Oh you know, broken bones, bee stings . . . the usual,” I said lightly trying to make it sound like it was no big deal. In actuality it was a big deal. The healthcare here in no way measured up to the technology and modern capabilities that I was accustomed to working with. I felt inadequate and also sorry for these people . . . that they never had the kind of care I grew up with. “You?” I asked in return.
“Well, the farmer and his wife seem friendly but I can tell that they are both terrified of me. I guess I should consider myself lucky that I get to sleep on a cot in the corner of the house under the same roof. You should have seen the look on their faces when I told them I had no idea how to milk a cow.” She laughed softly, but it was sad. We all were sad. Samantha inched in and gave her sister a hug.
Sarah looked up and practically ran to Sean, who had just arrived with Kennedy, Matthew, and Josh. Sean gave her a big hug and kiss on the mouth, which further seemed to shock the crowd of onlookers gaping at all of us. Dr. Thorpe monitored the situation from the kitchen itself, where it appeared he was enjoying his conversation with Ms. Bettina, the cook.
Sean, who was taller and more fit than the rest of us, and most of the villagers, was still wearing his jeans, but swapped his T-shirt for a linen tunic that was tarnished with soot here and there. “Nice outfit,” Sara teased.
He gave her a lopsided smile. “The pants didn’t fit,” he defended, “Not that I’m surprised, I mean look at these people,” he said scanning the villagers.
Sarah pulled his attention back to her. “How did you get along with the blacksmith?” she asked.
“Not at all, but as long as I keep my mouth shut, at least I won’t have to sleep in the street,” he shrugged.
It didn’t surprise me that he wouldn’t want to take instruction from a medieval villager that he probably towered over. I hoped that he would stay out of trouble until we could figure out a way to get back home.
I listened to the others tell me about their days. Kennedy complained about her arms being sore from kneading dough at the bakery, Matthew didn’t say much about working in the field with his farming family, and Josh seemed tired from hauling grain all day for the miller.
“Where’s Paul?” I asked as everyone looked around.
“He might not be joining us,” Dr. Thorpe said as he strode over to us. “He is on castle duty and takes his breaks in rotation. He may be eating with a different kitchen. I will inquire after him tomorrow to see how he is doing.”
“Thanks,” I said simply as we all sat down to eat our first real meal together in this strange new world. At least there haven’t been any more deaths yet, I thought fleetingly as I started to eat.
Chapter 5
Sunrise and the simultaneous ringing of the bells from the monastery are a far better alarm clock than I ever had at home. Unfortunately there is no such thing as a snooze button here. I yawned as Sam and I climbed out of bed to dress. In just a few days time we had fallen into a loose routine, rising and helping each other dress because of all of the laces and cinching needed in the bodices of the dresses we wore and also to figure out our hair. I considered myself fortunate to have Sarah’s sister with me; I felt as though I could trust her, not to mention she had been going to school to be a cosmetologist and knew how to style and braid hair . . . a talent that had always evaded me. Once we were ready, we descended the stairs to the main level and then took turns visiting the latrine and back.
“Good morning,” Dr. Thorpe greeted as he joined us downstairs before heading off into the clinic. We returned the greeting and followed by habit to see what tasks we were to be assigned to today.
“Evie, I want you to visit the candle maker in the marketplace. Here is enough to buy three large white candles like ones we have been using,” he extended his hand to me and dropped one golden crown and two silver half crowns in to my palm. “You remember the way there?”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied dutifully. I remembered the candlestick maker from our brief tour of the marketplace a few days ago. He was an older man both small and thin who eyed me and Sam as if we were a scourge as we passed by his booth.
“Sam,” he continued. She looked up at the doctor expectantly wondering what her task would be. “We need more finely spun silk for suturing as the soldiers will be returning home soon.” He held out a golden crown to her. “This should be enough for several yards.” Sam nodded and we set out together. How hard could it be to get three candles and some suturing silk? I wondered.
The two of us stepped out into the bright sunshine, strolling quietly but casually towards the center of the village where the marketplace assembled each day. Our sneakers kicked up dust in the unpaved dirt street as we walked. I kept my eyes moving to take in my surroundings, but tried not to gaze at anything too long to avoid collecting unnecessary attention. Sam kept pace with me as we passed several other shops and dwellings. I crinkled my nose a bit as we passed some establishments that used the street to dispose of their garbage and other waste. I tried not to think of it as I watched my steps. A woman appeared out of a doorway in front of us off to the left carrying a basket of what I assumed was dirty laundry. She saw the two of us and stopped abruptly, turning on her heel, and marched back inside and shut the door. Sam and I glanced at each other without saying a word. I knew we were outsiders here, but were we really that scary? After that a hush seemed to fall over the street as we continued to walk on. We were nearly to the blacksmith when I heard footsteps behind us. I think we both sensed the danger as we slowed to a stop together and did an about face to see who was behind us.
I sensed the fear flowing off of Sam as we stood side by side and faced nearly fifteen or so villagers composed mostly of men, a few women, and even a child or two. They stood inspecting us as we looked them over. I let my eyes scan from face to face as it was ingrained in my nature as a nurse to
constantly assess things. I saw curiosity, fear, and confusion, as well as indifference, but mostly I saw hostility. I glanced briefly at Sam who had her hands clasped in front of her nervously. I thought of the crowns Dr. Thorpe had given me to buy candles, they were practically burning a hole in the pocket of my dress. I hoped they weren’t meaning to try to rob us. Movement had my eyes snapping back to the mob before us. A man in his late twenties dressed in a brown tunic and trousers stepped forward.
“Wayfarers, . . . you are not wanted here!” he said sternly in a strange accent that I could only describe as a mix of a few European countries.
I decided it would be best to respond with kindness instead of defensiveness. “Hello, . . . my name is Evelyn, and this is Samantha,” I started. Since he did not interrupt me, I tried to cut the tension by continuing. “I know that we may seem strange to you, but we are here to help Dr. Thorpe care for the village . . .”
He cut me off. “The lot of you are nothing but trouble. No one will trust you or welcome you here. We do not want you disturbing our peace with your radical ways.”
“We did not come here to cause trouble,” Sam interrupted nervously, with her voice shaking slightly.
“How dare you interrupt a man when he is speaking!” the man exploded in an incredulous tone taking a step towards us. “The two of you need to learn your place if you are to remain in our society!” he growled, clearly disgusted with our casual indifference to his threat. Fear started to rise up within me as I saw him reach for a blade sheathed at his waist. I was not used to being confronted so aggressively before and was not sure what to do other than run back to the clinic. I didn’t even have any pepper spray to help me if things got ugly. I had no idea who to call for help, or if help was even available. I had no way of defending myself.
The Twilight Star Page 5
