The Plague Tales

by Ann Benson

  As she took their cloaks, the servant took on a grave expression and said, “It is not too late, but I fear that she will not be long in this life. There have been few words from her since she awoke this morning, mostly just moans and grunts and the like. She complains of the chills, so I cover her, then before a blink she’s thrown off the spread again. She mutters like a lunatic, then clamps her jaw tightly shut. It can’t be long now.”

  Adele rephrased this communication so Alejandro could understand, for she knew he would have difficulty with the servant’s rather common dialect of English, then she advised the servingwoman that the gentleman was a medicus who had been sent to protect the young girl.

  The servant gave him a sneering look of disapproval, followed by some harsh and cynical words. “We’ve had all the doctors here with their fancy educations and their potions and such since the lady took ill, but the lot of them couldn’t cure a pimple, by my soul! The midwife is the only one that’s brought relief to this poor woman. Better than all them physics, if you’re asking me.”

  At this, Alejandro paid strict attention, for never had he heard, except from the inflated de Chauliac, a report of any success in treating this dreadful scourge. After a few animated words with Adele he turned to the woman and asked, in shabby but understandable English, “Where is this midwife, that I may ask about her methods? I am anxious to hear of any new treatments.”

  The servant replied, “She’ll be calling here on the morrow, if you care to come back. But she’s a strange one, our Sarah. I’ll wager she won’t like your looking over her shoulder.”

  Alejandro wanted to question her further, but Kate was growing more impatient with every minute of delay. She tugged on Alejandro’s sleeve, and asked through her mask to be brought to her mother. The servant said, “Follow me, then, but step quietly, mind you! I’ll not have you upsetting her.” Then she turned and led them down a dark hall.

  As they groped their way through the dark passage toward the bedchamber, the servant explained, “We keep the windows covered, to keep out the evil influences. My lady is already ill enough without inviting in more pestilence.”

  So successful had she been in this endeavor that the battened house was dank, stuffy, and airless. As they neared the lady’s sickroom, the familiar odor of plague humor invaded Alejandro’s nostrils and sickened him; it had been a long time since his last proximitous encounter with the disease, and the memory of its horrible effects had dimmed. Now he was instantly reminded of all of its miseries.

  He stopped and held out a hand behind him, bringing Kate and Adele to a stop themselves. He removed his mask and sniffed the air lightly, then wrinkled his brow in concentration as he tried to identify the odor. “This is more than the smell of disease,” he said. “There is something more here. Something I have smelled before.” He sniffed again. “I know!” he said. “It is the smell of eggs gone bad!”

  The servant explained, “Mother Sarah has left some small pots of a secret substance burning in the bedchamber. She uses this and many other means to keep the pest at bay. She has managed to keep the lady from the grasp of death now for more than a fortnight, God be praised.”

  “A fortnight!” he exclaimed excitedly. “I must meet this woman, this Sarah, to question her immediately!”

  Adele added, “Has she a surname, that we may more easily find her?”

  The servant furrowed her brow, and gave the question some obvious thought. She finally answered, “Never a one’s been told to me. I have known her since I was a wee one, and she has always been called Mother Sarah. Even by my own mother, God rest her soul.”

  “But where can she be found?”

  Again the servant gave much strenuous consideration to their question, after which she directed them over the river to a nearby plain. “It’s a goodly ride,” she said. “You must cross the open meadow, and you’ll find a pair of oaks with twisted gnarled trunks. Pass between them, where you’ll find another path, this one narrower, leading to a clearing in the woods. At the edge of the clearing stands a small stone cottage, next to a yellow steaming spring, which the local people say has magical qualities. It is rumored that the Mother draws some of her power from those hot waters.”

  Upon hearing the reference to magic Adele covered the child’s ears with her hands and exclaimed, “Blasphemy and heresy! God protect us from all magic and witches!”

  Alejandro turned to her quickly and said, “Witch or not, if the woman has even the smallest power over this plague, we shall visit her immediately, for I shall not leave any possibility of curative treatment uninvestigated.”

  A surprisingly headstrong and defiant Adele, no longer silken, demanded, “And what of the child? I insist that she remain out of the evil influence of witchcraft!”

  “Adele, we do not even know if this woman practices the black art, for the servingwoman says she is a midwife! It may be that the tales of her success have so impressed the ignorant local people that they speak of her in terms of their own suspicions. She sounds to be more nearly a medicus than a witch, if her cures are so good.”

  The child was caught up in the argument over her care, and followed the animated conversation as it continued going back and forth between her two companions. Finally she asked, “Can I not remain here, in my mother’s house?”

  Their dispute interrupted, Adele and Alejandro exchanged looks, each awaiting the other’s opinion. The serving girl said, “The child is welcome to stay here as long as she doesn’t disturb my lady’s rest.”

  “That she will not do,” Alejandro said, “for she has been strictly instructed not to touch her mother or even approach her too closely. Our good horses will bring us there in easy time, and we shall return before sunset to gather up the child. By then she shall have had a private visit of fitting duration, and we will begin our return journey to Windsor thereafter. What say you, Adele?”

  Adele looked suspiciously at the servant, wondering if she could be trusted to properly supervise Kate’s time in her mother’s house. She was certain that this girl had until very recently been no more than a scullery maid, elevated to household maid only because of her employer’s dire need for close service.

  But if they were to find the mysterious Mother Sarah, they had no choice but to leave the child behind. Adele opened her small purse and extracted a gold coin and handed it to the servant. “See that she stays a good distance from the sick woman, and there will be another of the same for you when we return to find her safe.”

  The servant’s eyes widened, for she had never had so much money at one time, and she knew that she stood to see it doubled! “I will, lady; be sure of it. No child could be safer,” she assured them.

  Nevertheless, Adele was full of doubt. She embraced Kate and said, “We shall return for you before sunset.” After taking their riding cloaks from the ragged servant, they watched as she and the child walked down the dark hallway to the bedchamber. Alejandro whispered a silent prayer that no harm would come to the little girl, then they quickly let themselves out of the house, and headed west on the road.

  The plain came in sight at the top of a hill not long after they had crossed the river. Alejandro turned his horse onto the open meadow and Adele follow closely. As expected, they soon came upon the noble old oaks in their motionless embrace. Alejandro had the sense that he was intruding on the privacy of the venerable trees as he slipped between them onto the path.

  Immediately after their passage into the dense woods, they knew that everything had changed. The very air was different from that which they had breathed in the meadow; it was warm and sweet, though they were in what should be the cool of a thicket. There was no sound other than the thud of the horses’ hooves on the dirt path, no insects buzzing, no frogs chirping, and no human voices calling out.

  Alejandro looked around in wonder and said to Adele, “I begin to understand why you thought it best to leave the child behind. I feel almost enchanted by this place … truly there is some unnatural presence here
.”

  They broke through the forest so suddenly that they had to shield their eyes from the glare of the sunlight. Alejandro could not remember any details of the path beyond the oaken gate, but he knew that he had traveled its entire length. He had no idea how long it had taken; was it moments ago that they had passed between the oaks? He couldn’t remember … he was too charmed by the mystery of the place.

  But Adele was not nearly so taken with the place as her companion. Though she wanted desperately to cry out to Alejandro that they must turn back and leave, her speech had completely deserted her. While on the forest path, she had felt as if some beckoning hand literally pulled her horse through the trees to the bright clearing. She had wanted to protest, but she suddenly found herself unaccountably mute and powerless to make even the feeblest utterance.

  Spellbound, the victims of some glamour, they stared at each other in wonder. With slow and heavy movements they dismounted and began to walk toward the stone cottage. Soon the two found themselves standing on a stone walk that started at the door of the house and led directly to the warm yellow spring; they saw the waves of heat rising from the tepid waters, and were mesmerized by the golden glint of sunlight dancing on the smooth surface. A moist intoxicating smell permeated the warm air, and Alejandro felt compelled to inhale it in great gulps, again and again. The more he breathed of the fertile perfume, the more he wanted. It was sweet and heavy, and smelled of living things, of dying things rotting, of moisture and dampness and life.

  When he finally regained his voice, he said to Adele, “If this is evil, then may it smite me forever. I am spellbound by this place.”

  Then a dreamy voice broke through the silent haze. “I welcome you to my home, honored physician and gentle lady.”

  Seemingly out of nowhere there appeared before them an old woman whom neither one would imagine to be the possessor of such an enchanting voice. She spoke again, her words like those a mother uses to soothe her child. “I have been expecting you to come,” she said, “but I knew not when.”

  Alejandro’s logical mind, fighting to retain superiority, told him that in the real world, such foreknowledge was not possible. But the peaceful stillness, the rich fecund smells, the strangely calming presence of the old woman, all together gave him a sense of inner serenity and abandon that had not been his since the safety of his childhood in Spain, and he gave himself over to it. In this tranquil place butterflies floated so slowly through the air that it seemed to him they should fall to the ground, despite their lightness. He saw no sun, yet there was brightness all around, but no shadows. Nothing was brown and withered; everything was fresh and perfect, except the woman herself, who bore the mark of time as if it were more a grace than a burden. Here he could remember how it felt before the curse of contagion had been visited on the world. Outside this place, beyond the twisted oaks, there was no such magical serenity, only chaos.

  “You have come to learn of a cure,” she said.

  He nodded his head eagerly, his eyes wide in hopeful anticipation.

  “Very well, you shall have it.” She handed him a sack of finely embroidered linen. He turned it over in his hands, examining it carefully, his face full of childlike wonder.

  “I did not expect to have it placed in my hands,” he said. “What is this gift you give me? Is the cure contained herein?”

  Her laugh was deep and ancient, almost musical in its enchanting effect on him. She said to him, “You must be eternally prepared for that which you do not expect, Physician. If you would know the cure, open it and satisfy your curiosity.”

  He did so, eagerly. He showed the sack to Adele, who regarded it with a look of mistrust, but joined him in examination of its contents nevertheless. He removed each item carefully and with great reverence, and Adele followed his example. Inside there were several small pouches, each one filled with a supply of rare herbs, among them ones like those de Chauliac had given him at the outset of his journey in Avignon, which were now depleted. There was a larger pouch, filled with a foul-smelling grayish powder. He took some of it between his fingers and let it drift like sand back into the pouch. There was a small flask, filled with yellowish liquid, stopped with a cork. There were red ribbons, and a walnut shell and a few other odd items, none of which he knew to have any medical use. He clutched the precious package tightly, feeling it in his hands to be sure that it actually existed and that he could really touch it, beyond his mind’s perception.

  He looked back at the woman, wanting to thank her for the gift. “Woman, I know not even how to address you, to offer my thanks. We came here seeking one called Mother Sarah.…”

  “And it is she who you have found.”

  His suspicions about her identity confirmed, Alejandro could hardly contain his excitement. “It is you, then!” He turned to Adele and said, “It is she!” He turned back to the old woman. “In my wonder of this place I almost forgot the true purpose for our coming. We have seen the lady you attend, and have heard of her fortnight’s progress! Speak to me of your cures, for they are great knowledge! I thirst in my very soul to learn your methods.”

  “Physician,” she replied, “you must be patient. All will be revealed in time. You will know the answer you seek when it is necessary for you to know it.”

  For the first time in this dreamlike place Alejandro did not feel completely calm. “I fear it will pass me by, and I will not recognize that which I am intended to see.”

  “You must trust that you will” was all she said. “You hold the cure in your hands, and soon you will hold it in your heart. Go now, and quickly see to the well-being of the little girl, for her soul is in grave danger. I cannot see the outcome of its journey, but she will have a difficult trial in the days to come. Above all things, remember to have faith, and believe that all will end well.”

  Alejandro would have liked to ask her a thousand questions, but he could see that Adele was very agitated and concerned.

  “She speaks of a child,” she said. “She can only mean Kate. We must return to her!”

  It did not occur to him to ask the old woman how she knew about Kate; it simply seemed natural to him that she should. They found their horses just where they had left them, happily grazing in the sweet dark green grass. Alejandro carefully stowed the beautiful purse of healing herbs in his saddlebag, then they mounted and started back through the dense forest again, heading for the oaken doorway back to the rest of the world.

  They stopped their horses just before the gnarled gateway. Alejandro could feel the chilly wind on his face, blowing in from the world they were about to enter, and the warm sunlight on his back, painfully reminding him of the world they were about to leave.

  He said, “I fear that when we cross this gate, we shall not remember what transpired on the other side of it.” He looked out pleadingly at Adele and said, “I fear that when we pass through it will all be forgotten, and there will be no cure strapped behind my saddle.”

  With wisdom beyond her age Adele cast away her own doubts and consoled him. “It cannot be so. We held it in our hands. It cannot disappear. Remember what the woman said, that there would come a time when you would use it.…”

  Still, he remained stationary. He looked back into the forest at the streams of brilliant sunlight pouring down through the tall straight trees, coming to final rest upon the soft pine needles on the forest floor. Then he turned again, and looked toward the meadow, where the thin gray light of the cool afternoon made no such enchanting image. He felt the wind whip through the oaken gate, scattering dried leaves around the horse’s ankles, and he was loath to ever move again. He stayed there, paralyzed by his fear of losing what he had gained.

  “Alejandro,” Adele said urgently, “we must go! Remember what she said of Kate! We must return to her now!”

  She turned toward the meadow and kicked the sides of her horse, and the big gentle mare plunged forward at her bidding. She cried out, not in pain, but in the shock of feeling the cold raw air that filled her lu
ngs in her first breath beyond the gate. She stopped her horse, which was similarly gasping, and coughed in loud objection to the assault on her breathing.

  Seeing her distress, Alejandro forgot all his fears and spurred his own horse forward. He, too, felt the attack of the cold wind upon his unprepared body, and struggled for breath briefly. But his discomfort soon passed, and he found himself astride his mount at the edge of the meadow, Adele at his side. Neither one moved. Alejandro looked into the sky for the sun’s position, and saw that it had barely moved from the place it occupied in the heavens when they had first passed through the oaks. He saw the soft shadows, hardly changed, and he knew that very little time had passed. It was as if they had hardly moved from the spot.

  But to his overwhelming joy, he remembered. He remembered the warmth of the sweet air, and he could envision the old woman in his mind. He turned to Adele and said anxiously, “Beloved! Please say that you remember what has transpired!”

  “Aye, my love, it stays with me as if I were still there.”

  Overjoyed, he jumped down from his horse, and opened the tethers on the saddlebag. Reaching his hand inside, he found the item he sought. He grabbed the fabric sack that he had placed there while still in the glade, and extracted it eagerly.

  But this sack was not of fine embroidered linen, only rough combed flax, coarsely woven, brown and worn, near to breaking. What is this trickery? he thought. Has this woman deceived me? He looked at Adele in dismay, then loosened the drawstring. Inside were the same precious herbs, only now in rougher pouches. The exotic contents of the tattered treasure bag were blessedly intact, and had survived the transition.

  He replaced the sack in his saddlebag, then jumped energetically into the saddle, and they set off at a fast gallop across the wide meadow. The horses neighed and snorted in loud protest at their fast pace in the cold air, and Alejandro wondered if they, too, would have liked to remain.