by L. M. Roth
Nolwenn had watched her father suffer with a cold that seemed rapidly getting worse and wished to help him. She had gone on her own accord to the wise woman who sold herbs and asked for a healing potion for Dag. The old woman, whose name was Yuna, gave her a potion that she told Nolwenn would cure Dag of his cold. The girl was then subjected to intense questioning.
No, she did not know what was in the potion; she did not ask. Yes, she came straight from Yuna’s small hut to give the potion to her father. No, wait, she did not; she had first stopped at Melisande’s to give her a packet of herbs that she had requested from Yuna to help with her sickness from carrying the child. Yuna told her that Melisande requested it but she did not have it available when she requested as it had not yet bloomed for the season, and as Nolwenn was going that direction anyway she could deliver it to her.
Dirk felt a surge of alarm as Nolwenn related this account and exchanged an uneasy glance with his mother. Judoc appeared to share his thought but said nothing in front of Nolwenn. She merely asked the distraught girl whether she had spent much time at Melisande’s, and what they talked of.
Nolwenn said she delivered the packet of herbs to Melisande, and when Melisande wished to take them at once, had volunteered to go and fetch water for her to take with them. She told Melisande that she could not stay and visit long because she had a healing potion for her father and she must give it to him as soon as possible.
Judoc’s eyes widened until they appeared to be blue pools in a quiet autumn wood, an impression enhanced by the coppery curls that gently framed her face and rested on her brow, and she gulped almost convulsively. She recovered herself and asked her daughter if she had mentioned the healing potion to Melisande before or after she went to fetch water for her.
Nolwenn scrunched up her nose as she pondered on her mother’s question. She fetched the water before she mentioned the potion, she said. But no, she exclaimed, she mentioned the potion first because she informed Melisande that she was delivering some herbs to her from Yuna that she gave her when she visited her to buy a healing potion for her father. Melisande thanked her and said she wished to take the herbs at once, but she had not filled her pitcher with water yet that morning so it would have to wait until she visited the spring. Nolwenn had volunteered to do this for her so that she could take the herbs at once.
Judoc and Dirk listened to this account and glanced furtively at one another.
Would Melisande have slipped something into the potion, Dirk wondered. Did she have such herbs in her cupboard, and manipulated Nolwenn into leaving the room so she could poison the healing potion? The thought made him shiver with horror.
He realized suddenly that he had never fully trusted his sister-in-law. It was true that she was quite pretty, and he could understand why Brenus had fallen for her so quickly. Her soft femininity and a certain foreign quality about her were very attractive. But as young as Dirk was he detected a sly quality in Melisande. He had been old enough to understand what was going on when Cort left home last autumn over the quarrel with Brenus, and he had kept his eyes open ever since.
He had been present the evening Judoc invited her to visit the family, and she had been informed of the departure of Cort with his wife and mother. Never had Dirk seen such an expression of pure rage ignite the face of anyone. Had smoke erupted from Melisande’s nostrils he would not have been surprised. For a moment she literally could not speak. When she recovered, the words spewed out like venom from the mouth of a cobra.
“What!” she erupted. “When did that happen? Why was I not told?”
She banged a fist down on the table, causing the plates and trenchers to jump in the violence of her action.
Maelys turned a look upon her sister-in-law that was every bit as venomous as Melisande’s.
“We did not wish to upset you, Melisande,” she uttered in a voice that was so modulated and even of tone that Dirk knew Maelys was attempting to control her own anger. “We all know how fond you are of Cort, and none of us wished to distress you. Especially when you are carrying the child of your dearly beloved husband.”
She said this last with a stifled snicker that tempted Dirk to laugh openly, but he knew that would only serve to heap coals on the flame of Melisande’s fury. Melisande glared at Maelys with eyes narrowed to slits, and she clenched her jaw so tightly that the veins in her neck stood out. Maelys merely smiled at her in open triumph at how neatly Cort had evaded the noose of his sister-in-law’s constant attempts to trap him into forced conversation with her.
Judoc cleared her throat in a silent warning to Maelys that Dirk knew was a rebuke for poor manners in baiting Melisande. His sympathy on this occasion, however, was for Maelys. Also for his sister-in-law Siv who had had to endure the barely concealed hostility of Melisande during her stay in Eirinia.
Maelys wisely took the hint, but could not resist one last taunt.
“Of course, we all miss Siv and Brit as well. I do not think Cort could have found in all the world a wife for him as perfect as Siv. Don’t you agree, Melisande?”
And she smiled at Melisande with the air of a gladiator who has just defeated his opponent in the arena, yet twists the sword in the fatal wound as if glorying in his pain.
The look Melisande shot at Maelys did not bode well for their future relationship, and Dirk suddenly sensed that trouble lay ahead in that direction. Melisande knew full well what Maelys referred to, and she would not let the younger girl’s insults go unpunished.
Be careful, Maelys, he wanted to warn his impulsive sister. You are teasing a snake when you bait Melisande.
But would she poison her own father-in-law? And if so, why would she? What possible reason could she have for wanting this good man dead?
Dirk decided to visit Yuna on his own and question her. He would use the pretext of wanting a healing ointment for his rough hands that frequently cracked open in cold dry weather and bled slightly, producing considerable discomfort. He would tell her that he thought if he started taking it now he would not suffer when the winter came.
That night he slipped out of the hut after the evening meal and told his mother he wished to take a walk and get some air. He thought a walk in the woods might soothe him: he would not be out too long.
Dirk started walking in the direction of the woods and slipped into them, heading through them to Yuna’s hut. Later he would confess to his mother, but he did not wish Melisande to see him visiting the old wise woman. Such an unusual action on his part would alert her to his suspicions of her, and he needed time to investigate the matter fully. He did not know what he would do should he confirm his suspicions regarding his sister-in-law.
Yuna’s hut was on the outskirt of the village near the woods. She liked this location so she could easily walk into them to gather the herbs and berries she needed. Dirk approached it from the back, and under the cover of darkness, slipped around to the front door.
He knocked quietly and waited. Yuna was slow in her walk, being well advanced in years, and it took her some time to make it to the door. He fretted and shifted his weight from one foot to the other with growing impatience, anxious lest Melisande should spy him from her hut and wonder at his visit.
At last the door slowly creaked open, and he beheld the wizened visage of the old woman. To say that she was old was to state the case mildly in his opinion. Dirk liked pretty girls and many maidens had caught his eye; the deep wrinkles of the woman who stood before him was like that of a garment whose appearance was spoiled by their manifestation. He longed to take her face in his hands and straighten it out as he did his own robes when they creased into wrinkles. As this was not possible, he merely asked if he could step inside.
Yuna stepped aside for him to enter and closed the door silently behind her. Dirk glanced around the room and saw a small brazier with a fire pit, a wooden table and two chairs, a door that led into her bedchamber, and some copper pots hanging on the wall. A strong aroma of herbs permeated the room; some fresh and revivin
g, others heavy and pungent. He noticed some wooden vessels with stoppers in them on a stand with shelves in one corner of the room, and determined this must be her supply of herbs.
Yuna cast a bright glance at him out of her small black eyes and asked him his business.
“Let me guess; you want a potion to make some fair lass fall for you, I’ll wager. Naught but that would bring you to my door, Dirk Adalbart,” she whimpered in a creaky voice that sounded like a door hinge in need of oiling.
“Nay, not at all,” he smiled engagingly at her.
“Tis my hands,” he stated as he held them out before her. “They get so dry in cold weather they crack open and bleed, a real discomfort for sure. I was wondering if you have any ointment in your fine store that will heal them. For I sure don’t want to spend another winter with bloody fingers, do I?”
“Tis only June, and you be wanting it already?” she queried.
Dirk merely shrugged his wide shoulders.
“Sure if I start taking it now my skin will most likely be healed before the cold comes.”
Yuna studied his face to examine his sincerity. She cocked her head to the side, and then hobbled her way to her store of herbs. She rummaged around on a shelf, and presently returned with a small bottle containing a lotion.
She opened the bottle and presented it to Dirk. He smelled some foul aroma that did not bode well for the application of the lotion upon his body, and hesitated. He wrinkled his nose and gagged slightly before he questioned Yuna.
“What is it?” he asked, dreading to hear what the answer might be.
Yuna’s ancient face creased into a smile filled with mirth, her eyes full of mischief.
“Tis the best lotion in the world for dry, bleeding skin,” she cackled.
“What is it?” Dirk repeated, certain now that he would not like the answer.
“Goat’s urine, the best lotion in the world. I keep my goats for just this purpose,” she informed him. “Hold out your hands now while I apply it.”
Dirk was strongly tempted to refuse her, but as this was his excuse for paying her a visit he could not do so. He took a deep breath, held it, and permitted the old woman to pour the disgusting lotion over his dry hands.
After he paid her he asked about her store of herbs. He had never seen so many pots and bottles in one place before. Did she gather everything herself, or did she have help from the village maidens?
Yuna bristled at his question. She gathered everything herself, she did. Was he implying that she was getting too old? She did not take to that kindly, she didn’t, and he had best watch his manners. She wasn’t one of the village maidens to be taken with his handsome looks, she wasn’t, and she would give him a good scolding with her tongue, she would. Yes, she would indeed!
Dirk pondered on the best way to calm the old woman down, and then hastened to apologize. He did not mean any offense, he said. He was merely impressed with her fine array and wondered if there were those who considered it an honor to serve her by gathering herbs and berries for her.
Such flattery soothed the old woman’s vanity and she looked to Dirk like a chicken whose ruffled feathers have just been smoothed, and is willing to sit on her nest of eggs again to hatch them for her owner. She called him a dear boy and proceeded to answer his question.
No, she did not employ any of the village maidens, she said. It would be a wonder if any of the lazy girls would even offer to help such an old woman, but then what can you expect of the young, she queried. All they wanted was to buy her herbs to make their hair and complexions smoother, all the better to ensnare the young men they wished to trap into matrimony.
But there was one, she said, who was different. That young widow of Brenus’, now she was an altogether different case. She was given to visiting Yuna on occasion and wishing instruction in the different herbs, she was. Nice girl, that one. And always so thoughtful; bringing her extra herbs whenever she went to the woods to gather her own to season her stews.
Chapter XXXII
Maiden, Mother, Crone
Nolwenn was bewildered. All she had wanted to do was help her father get better, but he had nearly died. And somehow Dirk felt she was to blame for his close call with death.
Had there been something in the potion that harmed him? But she trusted Yuna; she was so wise and skilled with herbs. Was it possible that she mixed up the herbs and because of the mistake Nolwenn’s father had nearly died before his time?
It was Dirk who suggested to Judoc that they invite Melisande to share the evening meal with them that night. He had no wish to alarm his mother, but he wanted to see with his own eyes the reaction of his sister-in-law when she saw her father-in-law alive and well.
Melisande entered the hut somewhat hesitantly, he noticed. Was that an affectation in her manner, or was she uncertain of what to expect? After the last family gathering when she and Maelys had crossed verbal swords did she wonder what treatment awaited her on this night?
The family was seated at the table, all but Dag who still lay in his sickbed. Dirk saw Melisande’s eyes dart around the table, and her brow puckered as if with a silent question. And then she looked at Nolwenn, and her eyes narrowed to slits and her mouth tightened until it was a thin red line in her angry face.
And he knew.
Melisande recovered herself and took a seat at the table. She smiled at Judoc and commented on Dag’s absence.
“And where is my father-in-law?” she inquired. “I heard he has been unwell this past week. Is he very bad?”
She affected concern with this last remark, but Dirk noticed that she riveted her gaze on Nolwenn and her eyes never blinked. And he noticed that Judoc saw it as well. She stared at Melisande, and then slowly shook her head.
“No, he is not bad at all,” she answered. “Tis true that this afternoon he gave us a fright, a very bad fright too! Dear Nolwenn brought him a potion to drink, and no sooner did he swallow it then he stopped breathing and nearly scared the life out of me. I was sure that he had departed this world, indeed I did! But we all prayed to Dominio and no sooner had the words left our mouths than Dag was breathing easier and seemed much better.
“A miracle it was, if you ask me,” Judoc finished with a casual air, yet casting a sidelong glance at her daughter-in-law.
Dirk looked Melisande full in the face and saw her face redden and then pale during Judoc’s recital. When her mother-in-law finished speaking she permitted herself to comment.
“Well, isn’t that just a marvel,” she said in a voice so hard it could have shattered stone.
It was then that Dirk noted how tightly she clenched her fists when she raised her glass of water to her lips, and how suddenly she slammed the glass down on the table when she had finished drinking, as if in frustration at the workings of fate.
Dirk told Maelys of his suspicions one evening when they strolled outdoors to catch a breeze in the warm June air. He had visited Yuna, he said, and her conversation was most enlightening indeed. Yuna told him that Melisande wished to be instructed in herbs and gathered her own to season her stews, always taking extra to Yuna.
Just suppose, he said, that Melisande had learned which herbs were poisonous from Yuna. Just suppose, he said, that she kept a small supply on hand. And just suppose, he said, that when Nolwenn left the hut to fetch water from the spring for her that Melisande slipped something lethal into the healing potion Nolwenn had bought from Yuna. Was that what nearly killed their father?
Maelys was sure of it. She had never trusted Melisande, and her dislike of her grew daily after the second departure of Cort, this time taking with him his mother who was such a good friend to Judoc, and Siv, whom she herself had grown to love like another sister. Maelys already had many grievances against Melisande, and if she would have killed her father…
Maelys in her sorrow at losing first Brenus and then Cort and Siv had turned to Dominio for comfort. She had no one to comfort her: her mother was too deep in despair at Cort’s departure with his
wife and mother following on the heels of losing Brenus, and her siblings too young. She it was who needed to comfort them. But she had nowhere else to turn except to Dominio.
When she did so she felt a warm and soothing presence envelop her, wrapping itself around her like a fur pelt on a cold winter night. Gradually she felt herself strengthened, and her faith became more real to her. Odd but until this time of testing with Melisande came her faith had just been something she had always known since she was a little girl. Now, however, she felt a strong hand taking hers and leading her through the valley of despair, and a childlike trust came forth in her that enabled her to commit herself fully to Alexandros and His Kingdom in a way she had not been capable of before.
She wished that she was able to locate Cort. How she wished she could share this incident of poisoning with him. Surely he would have known how to advise her and Dirk on what action was best to take against Melisande to ensure that she never attempted to harm Dag again.
Nolwenn slipped out of the hut early one morning before the household was awake. She knocked quietly on the door of Melisande’s hut, careful lest she had not yet risen. It was not long before the door opened and Melisande peered through the opening at her. A soft smile lit her face and she admitted the girl at once.
She drew Nolwenn into the living quarters and they sat in companionable silence, Melisande rocking softly in the chair that Brenus had made for her, and which was now so soothing when she grew weary from carrying the child. They had not long been seated when another knock came at the door, this one loud and firm. Melisande nodded her head at Nolwenn, and the girl sprang up to open the door.
Yuna stood there to the surprise of the girl; the old woman was not known for leaving her hut except to gather herbs, and was not in the habit of calling on the other villagers. She did not appear happy to see Melisande’s visitor. Nolwenn quietly admitted her and made her way to a stool at the corner of the room, leaving the more comfortable chair she had been sitting in for the old woman.
