Dorn sipped his beer and said, ‘Listen, Melchior, if you know anything about this collar now then say at once because Spanheim is full of holy rage. I have to tell the councilmen something about this collar.’
‘Tell them that you will, of course, apprehend the murderer and that the Order will get the collar back if it is in his possession,’ Melchior replied.
Dorn glared at the Apothecary for a moment and then shrugged. Melchior always had odd thoughts and spoke in a puzzling way. Nevertheless, the Magistrate was reassured by the fact that the Apothecary did not seem concerned about the golden collar.
‘A strange matter it is, but I suppose that’s just what I’ll say,’ the Magistrate sighed in the end. ‘And what happens now?’
‘Now? Now I should very much like to talk to Master Casendorpe, and there is no better way for me to do that than to visit his workshop on Kuninga Street, which is what I intend to do. For our magistrate, however, I cannot recommend a better course of action than for him to keep his eyes and ears open and to ask around as to whether anyone has seen any old Visby coins recently. I receive money from townspeople every day, but I certainly do not recall anyone having paid with that old Gotland coin.’
Melchior winked slyly. The Magistrate sighed again and left – but before doing so barked at the ‘swindling’ innkeeper that he should start counting up his veerings for payment of a fine.
15
MELCHIOR’S PHARMACY, RATASKAEVU STREET
17 MAY, AFTERNOON
MELCHIOR STOPPED BY the pharmacy to find out from Keterlyn how many ailing townspeople had been in and how business had been going. She was not permitted to sell prescribed medicines herself nor was she allowed to make up any of Melchior’s recipes, but she had picked up a great deal of pharmacy wisdom while working at her husband’s side, so if the person in need was a good friend who would not tell the Council or the town doctor she would be prepared to sell some simpler medicines. She was allowed to sell elixir – which was what the majority customers actually came to sample – aniseed sweets or spiced cakes; the Council had no say in such transactions.
Melchior should, by that time, have already taken on an apprentice or even a journey man, a boy to whom he could pass on his wisdom, but he had not. Melchior’s father had not taken one either, he had instructed his own son, just as Melchior’s grandfather had taken his firstborn son as an apprentice – all of whom, as tradition demanded in the Wakenstede clan, were given the name Melchior. As with all artisans, an apothecary could not call himself such until he had completed his years as apprentice and journeyman and before he had proved his competency by demonstrating his skills in front of the town doctor and a senior apothecary.
As his father’s apprentice Melchior the Younger had not had it any easier than would an apprentice from outside the family. His father demanded discipline and that he study hard. He had been strict, and if Melchior had did something poorly he was sent to the attic to kneel on dried peas and recite the apprentice’s virtues. Melchior’s father had been a harsh yet just man, and he had never raised his voice against his son without reason, and never in his life had the boy felt a rod on his back … never.
Melchior’s mother Rosamunde had died when Melchior was just four, and he barely remembered her. His father never remarried – a Wakenstede must always take the right wife – and Melchior the Elder never found another like Rosamunde, although not through want of trying.
Melchior had received his early schooling at Lübeck’s monastery school and later as his father’s apprentice in Tallinn. In Tallinn he also made his way up Long Hill to the Dome Church School for one winter, but the boy was beaten so harshly while there that his father went along make a few things clear to the Dome School teacher – although no good had come of it, of course. At twelve Melchior ceremoniously gave his father his journeyman’s vows, promising always to mix medicines exactly and quickly according to the recipes, never to deceive anyone in any way concerning these remedies, to place all money in the pharmacy coffer and not to sell poisonous medicines to anyone without the correct doctor’s order. He vowed to help anyone requiring something from the pharmacy no what time of day or night and to administer his skills faithfully and diligently with the grace of God. He vowed this in the manner of a true Christian and in the name of the saints. Melchior served for two years as his father’s journeyman until the time came for him to travel to learn his trade from others, taking with him an attestation issued by a master. Melchior’s father sent him to study with an acquaintance, a pharmacist in Riga, whom he trusted and who was aware of the Wakenstedes’ curse – Melchior the Elder did not dare send him further abroad to board with strangers. It was in Riga where, in a cold and unheated chamber, Melchior was first struck by his line’s eternal scourge. His father had warned him, and he was prepared. He had expected it. He believed he could learn to live with it.
Melchior walked up to the Short Hill gatepost and turned on to Niguliste Street at the corner of the sacristy, passed by the churchyard, the well and the town mint and then reached the corner of Seppade and Kuninga Streets. Master Casendorpe’s building could be seen from there, a two-storey limestone construction with the goldsmiths’ insignia – a small, gold-encrusted hammer – hanging above the doorway. Not all that many people were on the streets at this time, as the craft guilds were still working, the market had finished for the day and the evening church services had not yet begun. Because it was so quiet he noticed a young couple turning from Seppade Street on to Kuninga Street, recognizing them as Sire Freisinger and the Maiden Hedwig Casendorpe. Melchior quickened his pace to greet them. They stopped in front of the Casendorpe house. The Blackhead had escorted his future bride home, no doubt after the pair had been out for a leisurely stroll … However, as Melchior drew nearer, he realized that they weren’t discussing details of a wedding feast – no, they were arguing. Hedwig seemed to be pleading for something and was not satisfied with Freisinger’s explanations. The young woman then shouted shrilly and abruptly, shoving the Blackhead away from her.
‘You and your promises. The devil take them,’ the Maiden Hedwig shouted, bursting into tears. Freisinger tried to catch her hand and comfort the girl, but she pulled away too fast and dashed through the open doorway. Freisinger stood helplessly in front of the entrance until he noticed Melchior and nodded to him.
Melchior bowed lightly in return. Perhaps this might not be the best time to visit Master Casendorpe after all. There he would find a sobbing girl and her bewildered parents, who would probably not be in a position to discuss matters with a curious apothecary.
‘Sire Blackhead,’ Melchior greeted the merchant. ‘What a beautiful evening – although it sounded as if someone shouted of the devil, at least from what I heard.’
The Blackhead appeared out of sorts. ‘Oh no. That was merely the Maiden Hedwig.’
‘Ah, your future bride?’
Freisinger shrugged and mumbled in a cracked voice, ‘As for that, well, as they say, as the Lord giveth …’
‘You know what,’ Melchior said decisively, ‘perhaps the Sire Blackhead has enough time to make a short visit to the pharmacy so that he may take a strong, potent drop of elixir in return for the mighty generosity showed towards our town’s esteemed men yesterday; one that will clear the senses and raise his spirits?’
‘Heavenly grace, I am in a rush – however, I could never turn down such an offer,’ Freisinger said with a laugh, his dignified air restored.
‘Then it is settled,’ said Melchior. ‘Let us make for the pharmacy’, and in no time Melchior was already topping up a cup of his celebrated drink for Freisinger.
‘To the Sire Blackhead, in gratitude for yesterday’s lavish feast – and for beer that was not the poorest.’
‘You should thank our Brother Wunbaldus for the beer. I visited the monastery this morning, and he already has a new brew fermenting. As for the feast, as long as the Blackheads’ prosperity lasts so will they treat their honest friends, as is ri
ght and proper,’ Freisinger vowed.
The two men drank, coughed and ate cakes to wash the elixir down.
Melchior spoke first. ‘This is an old recipe that was passed to me by my father. He came from Lübeck, but it was taught to him by the squire of some Franconian knight and was popular even in the royal courts.’
‘One may imagine.’ Freisinger nodded then frowned. ‘Listen, Melchior, perhaps you would teach this recipe to the Blackheads as well?’
‘Aha,’ Melchior exclaimed. ‘Alas, I cannot. A trade secret. The Blackheads should understand this well indeed, as they are also men with secrets.’
‘Ah, come now. We are simple and merry merchants.’
‘However, you are the type of simple and merry merchants that claim their guild has been in this town since its very foundation – although no one can recall any particular details. As you said yourself yesterday, “The Brotherhood of Blackheads was already in this town when one still had to fight the pagans for every square foot of land. They helped to dedicate this town’s holy sanctuaries to the Lord Christ.”’
Freisinger took a sip of elixir and tried to deflect the comment. ‘Ah, well, we all tend to exaggerate somewhat when we have beer on our breaths. It is true, though, that the first in Tallinn to call himself a Blackhead was a Strasburg man who arrived during Danish rule – even so, the Blackheads have not gained as much respect here as the Canutes.’
‘Nevertheless, with your arrival, and especially after coaxing all of the unmarried sons of Great Guild merchants to join together … But I cannot remember now. Where did you come from?’
‘From Cologne, and our guild ordained me there as well. My father had been a member and his father before him. I tried my luck over the years trading goods in various places until I finally reached Tallinn by way of Rostock.’
Melchior had not known this before. The Apothecary knew a lot about many of the townsmen – where they were born and where they had been before – but it was increasingly hard to keep up, as the pace of new arrivals to the town accelerated. Clawes Freisinger may be the most fashionably dressed of Tallinn’s merchants and wear the finest clothes, but Melchior had not known much about his origins until now.
‘You must descend from an old and dignified line of merchants then, Sire Freisinger,’ said Melchior.
‘My great-grandfather was a master mason by trade. He built the cathedral in Cologne and was also likely a member of one of the first guilds in the town. Our guild is not titled the Brotherhood of Blackheads in every place, Melchior; it bears different names in different towns. His father had carried the cross fighting for Jerusalem in the Holy Land. I, on the other hand, have made my way here over time … This land pleases me.’
‘Then we have had similar fates,’ Melchior mused. ‘I, too, am from a long line in which the eldest sons have always been apothecaries, and now I have reached this place, which I enjoy greatly. Shall I pour you another cup?’
‘Bring it forth. But Livonia … why do I like it here?’ Freisinger was becoming more talkative. ‘It is a new land, a land just recently brought under the Holy Roman Empire. There may not be as much wealth here as in other places, yet there is a kind of freshness and vivacity. Things that already exist elsewhere are just being built and established here. We are at the edge of the Christian world, Melchior. After this it is just philistines and barbarians, and if the Lord blesses the weapons of the Order then we shall continue eastwards from here. That war has not yet been fought.’
‘If the Lord wills it … Although, He might first give the bishops and the Order a Christian mind for conciliation, as they fight amongst themselves more than with the Russians, or so it seems to me.’
‘Money, Melchior, it is always money that comes between wealthy men and stops them from behaving like true Christians. The Order wishes to become greater and richer, as do the bishops. In the end only the Russians will benefit as long so these wars between Christian peoples so exhaust us.’
‘You are absolutely right. The fact that we trade with them does not mean that they are proper Christians yet, and this we see each and every day.’
‘Exactly. We live at the edge of the world and so must defend our saints and the word of God that much more resiliently. The Blackheads and the Dominicans have been called here and tasked with bearing the Word of the Lord and holding high the flag of the Holy Cross.’
The pair spoke further of Order affairs and of politics involving lords of high status and then raised another cup, after which Freisinger announced he should take his leave, as he had business to conduct at the weighing-house and would then head off to the guild’s altar at the Dominican Monastery. He promised as he left that tomorrow’s festivities would be no less handsome than that of the previous day, as the Blackheads had selected some formidable beers.
As he left Freisinger bumped into Sire Tweffell’s servant Ludke, who had been lurking in front of the pharmacy door in his slightly asinine, boorish manner. Ludke stepped into the room guardedly after the Blackhead had gone.
‘And what bodily ailment is troubling you today, Ludke?’ Melchior exclaimed jovially, welcoming him in. Ludke was not exactly a regular visitor; Tweffell did not allow him to spend time away from the house to drink beer. Ludke was probably not much of a drinker anyway – in fact, Melchior had never seen him intoxicated, which was something the Apothecary could not say for the majority of the town’s lower classes. Ludke had the brute force of a bear, a hulking presence with fair hair and blue eyes. He was quiet and seemingly a touch simple yet was utterly devoted to the old merchant. No matter where Tweffell went he always took Ludke with him – it was rumoured that the boy even carried his master up the stairs at home. Ludke was a boy of very few words, but he was one of the townspeople who had visited Toompea the previous day – and had disappeared afterwards, Melchior now recalled.
‘Not one bodily ailment,’ the boy replied. ‘Not a thing troubles me. Sire Tweffell sent me.’
‘Of course, how foolish of me,’ Melchior boomed. ‘How could any bodily ailment ever trouble such a behemoth of a man? The Town Hall’s tower will collapse before you start to suffer from aching bones. So, what can I do for our merchant?’
‘He requested you send the very same salve as yesterday – and then another bottle to counter fatigue.’
‘I think I know which bottle he has in mind,’ Melchior laughed. ‘It is that one and only Melchior’s famous elixir that has been especially pleasing to the entire town of Tallinn this very morning following yesterday’s festivities at the Brotherhood of Blackheads.’
‘No doubt it is,’ Ludke said flatly and fell silent, waiting. Melchior already had the ingredients prepared, but he did not rush. He slowly poured ground herbs from a small sack into his mortar, pounded them together, added oil and spirits and then set to sorting out bottles. He needed to get the boy talking. Melchior enquired after Sire Tweffell’s health and cheerfully gossiped about events in the town. Ludke stood quietly and waited, clutching a couple of pennies between his fingers.
‘Always the very same. Melchior’s famous elixir. What else? I can sell it without the town doctor’s prescription. Yet I tell you this, Ludke, our Sire Merchant must continue to let blood with care at the barber’s; going without that won’t do, not at all. It would be even better for him to place leeches on his skin occasionally – but where can you find good leeches these days, eh?’
He finally finished the drink and went to hand it across the counter to Ludke, who had not said a word the entire time.
Melchior took the coins from the servant’s hand, stared at the boy for a few seconds and then asked, ‘So, tell me. How is Sire Tweffell’s health, really? Has it perhaps suddenly become much worse? You are strangely silent about this.’
‘Bone aches and backaches and sharp pains in his side. Sire says he no longer has much time,’ Ludke mumbled, as if grudgingly. He snatched the bottle and turned to leave.
‘Wait one moment, Ludke,’ Melchior said. ‘Tell me, did n
ot the trip to Toompea exhaust Sire Tweffell? I am now worried about him. You were there also, yes? Did, by chance, bad news tire the merchant out?’
‘I know nothing of these things,’ the boy said bluntly.
Still you must know something, thought Melchior. He scooped up a handful of cakes from a basket on the table and held them out towards Ludke. ‘In case I forget, these are samples for Mistress Gerdrud. If they are to her liking then she can always acquire more from Melchior’s pharmacy. And you may also try them, Ludke.’
‘My gratitude,’ the boy mumbled, stuffing them into his pocket.
‘Hearing unpleasant news at an age such as his may indeed make a person hurt all over. I’m thinking of that story of a ship that the Knight Clingenstain was said to have seized for himself in Gotland,’ Melchior pressed further.
‘Ask that of Sire Tweffell. Why do you ask me?’ the boy retorted gruffly.
‘Of course, of course … Perhaps I shall. Although, I would still ask you whether you happened to notice anyone strange lurking on Toompea the day before yesterday? You do know that I have promised to help the Magistrate find and seize the murderer?’
‘I saw no one there.’
‘So when you’ve been down to the harbour and chatted with the other attendants and servants … you haven’t heard any such talk?’
‘No. I do not speak to strangers, nor do I gossip. I wasn’t even in the town yesterday,’ said Ludke, his eyes boring a hole into the table.
‘Oh, come now, you are a serious man who says little. Oh yes, that’s right. You weren’t in town and Mistress Gerdrud had to come for the medicine herself. Of course.’
‘Yes. I wasn’t in the town at all yesterday,’ the boy affirmed in a monotone.
‘Right, yes. You were sent somewhere to handle affairs …’
‘I went to a village outside the town to call in a debt,’ the boy burst out suddenly, ‘and … and to bring back leeches as well. Just as Master ordered. I brought leeches for Sire Tweffell, and Mistress Gerdrud will place them on his back today when he bathes.’
Apothecary Melchior and the Mystery of St Olaf's Church Page 16
