by Smith, Skye
"My mother is busy with Captain Blake,” Teller pouted, and then saw an opportunity to change the subject. "She's your wife. Doesn't it bother you that she is in bed warming another man?"
"Not at all. Robert Blake is a good friend to me and to the clan. I am thankful that she is nursing him,” Daniel replied. "Er, um, just don't say anything about it to your grandparents in Cambridge."
Teller nodded and then looked down at the schaats. "Can I have a go?"
"Was it only yesterday you were fished out of a peat pool?” Cleff confirmed. "Now you want to risk falling in again. You shouldn't even be out of bed yet, never mind out in this cold, or out on the ice."
"Those boys are out there,” Teller complained, pointing.
"Stop arguing,” Daniel told him, though he hated to say it. He had been trying his best to get Teller to like him. A canny look crossed his face. "I order you to go back to bed. You're cold again. Go and ask one of the women to warm you up again."
"Really, no jesting, you order me to be with a woman,” Teller said, "and I can tell her this from you?” The schaats were now totally forgotten as he grinned from ear to ear and then turned and skipped back towards the cottages.
"May sons always follow their father's orders with such eagerness,” Cleff told Daniel.
"It's not just the lad. She is enjoying it as much as he is. She's always had great..."
"Tits,” Cleff finished.
"Appetites,” Daniel finished. They both laughed. They were both correct. "I suppose I should go and see how Rob is doing."
"Aye, and I should go and see how the crew of the Alice are doing.” They parted going different directions. Cleff to the longhouse directly behind them, and Daniel towards the far end of the village where Teesa's cottage was.
The duek windbreak at Teesa's house was stretched over the northeast end, the wind end, of the thatch roof, and then wrapped the wall beneath it and created a blind in front of the door. The doors of all Fens houses faced south towards the sun, and for the same reason, if there were any windows, they were on either side of the door. Teesa had two windows and they were glassed in.
Teesa had her own personal wealth dating back to her short stay with the Rich family in London, back when she had been the Earl of Warwick's hunting, dancing, and prancing companion before the war. Some of her wealth had gone to making improvements to this cottage, which had at one time been her Aunt Sarah's cottage. For instance she had glass not just on the outside of this window, but also on the inside as well. What the other women took to be left over city vanity, she explained as doing a better job of keeping the house warm. He shielded his eyes from the daylight and peered in through the double panes.
No one seemed to be moving inside, so he did not knock and he opened the door a crack as quietly as he could. Just enough to allow him through with as little of the freezing air as possible. The door pivot was greased, and silent, so he closed the door quickly behind him, but without slamming it against the jam. He did not need to wait for his eyes to grow accustomed to the gloom because the two windows let in a lot of light. It was warmer inside the house than out, but that did not mean it was warm. He crossed to the low hearth in the center of the floor, stirred the last of the ashes of a spent peat brick under a cauldron, and then put a fresh brick under it.
After finding a cloth to protect his hand, he lifted the lid of the cauldron, hoping to find soup, but it was just hot water. There was a rustling sound from the bed over by the southwest wall, and Teesa's face turned to watch him. Behind her in the bed was Rob, and on the other side of Rob was Sarah. They had all been sleeping Teesa put a finger to her lips to shush him, and then she reached down under the covers and dragged out her night gown.
The wriggling necessary to put the gown on while still warm under the comforter may have woken Rob, so instead she put her slippers on and stood up in the cold air of the room before wriggling into it. She noticed that her step-father pretended not to watch. Good. There was nothing like the appreciative stare of a handsome man to make a girl feel pretty. Once in her nightgown she reached for her winter cloak. As another sign of her own wealth, or perhaps her hunting ability, it had rabbit fur trim around the hood, neck, and closing. Only once it was closed did she venture near him.
"Don't wake Sarah. She was up all night watching him.” She reached out and pushed his hood off his head so she could see his face. "There is fish soup in the other pot, the last of the fish,” she said in a whisper directly into his ear. "Venka says that soup is all anyone will get in this village until this big freeze is over. It will keep everyone warm but will be sparing on our food stocks."
"Cleff says that we can fish through the ice,” he whispered back while he removed the lid from the soup pot and gave it a sniff. The good thing about the Wellenhay's hearths was that they were in the center of the one room so that the smoke could drift up through the hatch in the highest part of the roof. That meant that you could walk all around them or sit all around them, and that nowhere in the room was very far from the heat. He sat on a low stool and pushed some of the glowing peat under the soup pot, and then left his hands there to warm them near the same peat.
She pulled up another stool and sat close to him so they could share the space, the warmth, and the whispers. "Wait a bit before you send anyone out on the ice to fish. Perhaps in two or three days. The thicker the ice gets the safer they will be chopping through it."
"Why, you only need a small hole to jig through?"
"You won't catch enough that way. You need a hole big enough for a fish trap to be lowered down, and then raised up again once it is full, so that means you need thick ice."
"Where did you learn all of this?” he asked her. "What are you now, twenty? Twenty and never been to school."
"I've spent my life at Venka's knee, and now Oudje's. Oudje is so old that she knows things that you cannot even imagine. She knew how to ice fish, even though she had never seen it done.” She reached over the hearth for a bowl and a ladle. "She is so old that I fear I will not learn all that she knows before her mind fails her. I want to write it all down so it will not be lost, but she forbids it. She distrusts the written word because she distrusts churchmen. I suppose I can't fault her in that, for she grew up back when Queen Mary's inquisitors were torturing and burning all the wise women as witches."
"How is Rob doing?"
"He has a fever."
"In his wounded leg?” he asked. A hot wound would mean opening it up again.
"In his head, neck and chest, and sometimes he has the chills. Worse, I can hear a slight rattle in his throat when he breathes."
"Bugger damn,” he cursed. This was bad news. Fever, chills, the rattle of bubbles popping in the lungs all pointed to the soldier's friend The sickness of the lungs that saved wounded soldiers from a long and painful death from lockjaw. "Do you think his leg is healing now?"
"Yes, I think so. The red around the stitches is getting smaller, it has stopped weeping, and isn't hot to the touch."
"Bugger! Damn! So I have saved the leg and lost the man. I was a fool to delay the amputation,” but then a thought came to him. "Hold on. Oudje treats lung problems all the time. They are common in the damp of the Fens and so the treatment is common. You should have been expecting it and have been treating Rob as soon as he arrived with that wound.” His voice had been rising, and she shushed him.
"Don't tell me what I already know,” she whispered. "I should have been giving him oregano as soon as I saw the wound. Oregano oil on the wound, oregano infusions whenever he drank, and oregano vapours to ease his breathing. The trouble is,” her words were interrupted by his.
"Then why didn't you?” he hissed venomously. She slapped his face, not hard, but enough to stop his blaming words.
"We don't have any,” she told him. "It doesn't grow here. It needs dry heat to grow properly and produce its oil. All of our oregano comes from the southern kingdoms by way of Holland. Anso was to bring us some more but this storm will
have the Swift holed up in Holland."
"What of Oudje's stocks. She must have some left."
"Oudje no longer keeps any stock for she is too old to go harvesting. I have them all."
"Then your stocks,” he stretched his neck and his eyes to peer around the room for where the herbs and spices would be kept.
"Don't waste your time looking,” she told him. "Most of my herbs and tinctures are in Freiston and Fishtoft. We took them there this fall after their women were ravaged by the king's gentlemen, and after their men returned sick from being pressed into the king's service. What little oregano I had left here was used up over the Yule. Our village doubled in size for the festival and there were a lot of coughs and sniffy noses. We were so short of oregano that I refused it to the women who were roasting beasts."
In a much nicer tone, Daniel asked, "What did Oudje use before she had oregano?"
"Some of the local flowers,” Teesa replied. "Coltsfoot, or elfdock, or lobelia, or horehound, any of them mixed into an infusion of peppermint. Oregano is better and faster, but they will do."
"So what are you waiting for?"
"I told you, my stock is in Freiston. And how do you suggest I replace my stock of flowers, leaves, and roots when they are frozen under a foot of ice and snow? Eh? Eh?” Tears of frustration were forming in the corners of her eyes, and she angrily brushed them away on her sleeve
He put his arm around her and whispered, "Think Teesa, there must be something else. The Fens are filled with medicine just waiting to be plucked."
"There is the berries of sea-buckthorn, but that is not a Fen's bush. They grow on sunny beaches along the coast of Norfolk. Same problem. We can't get to them in this freeze. The only other thing I can think of is garlic, but I doubt there will be any left in any house after such a feast as we had over Yule.” She closed her eyes to think, to bring up the wealth of knowledge she had been trying to soak up from the aged crone. "Of course, oak lungwort. That is a plant that lives on tree bark. Up on the trunk, therefore not on the ground, and so not buried in snow."
"Oaks don't like the marshes, so it means hiking a distance to find them. Perhaps all the way to Ely. If we have to go out and find any of these herbs,” Daniel said thoughtfully, "then we may as well go after the best, so that brings us back to the oregano. This is so frustrating. Over the years we have brought tons of oregano across from Holland to sell in the markets, and now we have none of our own. Hmmm. As spices go it is not expensive so we bring it in bulk. When was the last time you claimed some for Wellenhay's own use?"
"Late summer."
"Where did we sell the rest of it?"
"I don't know. Probably in Cambridge. The inns and alehouses all use it for cooking. Some even flavour their ale with it. The alewives swear that it keeps the ale fresh."
"Right then,” a plan was forming in his mind. "I'm off to Ely on foot. If I find oaks, I will look for ... what did you call it?"
"Oak lungwort. It's a lichen. When it grows it spreads out and sort of looks like a lung."
"I will look for the lungwort,” he told her. "Whether I find any or not, I will continue on into Ely to get warm before starting back."
"The inns or the bishop's house may have oregano."
"I'll ask, but I doubt it. Ely is not the grand town it once was.” In his mind his plan of action was evolving. "Ahhh, but we have our horses at Ely and a road from Ely to Cambridge. If they have no oregano in Ely, I will ride to Cambridge to find it."
"All that today. You'll not get back before dark. You'll have to overnight in Cambridge."
"If there is oregano in Ely then I'll be back in what? Four hours. Aye, but you're right about Cambridge. Overnight may be too late."
"I'll spread the word through the women that I need peppermint or garlic or oregano. It could be that someone still has some. I must find something to keep him breathing, something to curb his fever. I must. And you must take some of his crew with you, just in case. It's well below freezing out there. I wouldn't be surprised if the sea isn't icing up. That means it is cold enough to freeze a body."
He thought about it, and then said, "I'll have a better chance without them. They know nothing of the Fens. No, I'll go alone."
"You will not,” she hissed. "You know better to go out into the marshes without a just-in-case buddy. If not Rob's men then three clansmen. If you are four then if you do find some lungwort in Ely, you can send two men back with it."
Daniel wanted to laugh aloud. How many times over the years had he scolded Teesa for going out into the marshes alone. Alone to explore, alone to hunt, alone to harvest herbs. She was the worst offender in the whole clan. "All right, I will take three men with me,” he lied. "I'll just finish my soup and then go and arrange it.” She kissed him on the forehead and then kept him company while he slurped the fishy broth.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Pistoleer - Invasion by Skye Smith Copyright 2013-15
Chapter 17 - Oregano in Cambridge in January 1643
"What did she mean by, 'looks like a lung'. What the hell does a lung look like,” Daniel grumbled to himself as he stretched his neck to look up the trunks of the oaks in front of him. He could see the hulking abbey of Ely ahead through the grove of scrub oaks. On normal days he would have smelled the town by now, but not today. Though the air was more or less calm, the gentle breeze was still from the nor'east, so the smoke and smells were drifting the other way, along with the ice fog. "Lichen. Is that like moss or like ivy. Bloody hell. Oh please bring hell to me. At least my feet and hands could get warm."
He gave up and made his way back through the foot of snow to the old bridle path, which was also under a foot of snow. And why wouldn't it be. Who else but he would be out in this weather. He cursed his weakness. Rob's life depended on this errand. He must not fail in it. He was almost back to the bridle path when he saw it. A lumpy mass of light green and darker green on the north side of a trunk. "Why didn't she say kidney shaped.” He took out his long dagger and reached up to it. Out of reach. Not even by jumping could he reach it. He sized it up. On horseback he could reach it. The clan's horses were in Ely for the wet months. Wet, ha. Winters never seemed to be wet anymore, just icy.
He marked his place on the bridle path with a broken branch and then stomped his way through the snow towards Ely. Though he was cursing the snow and ice now, an hour ago he was praising it. Normally this old bridle path was impassible due to the sink holes and mud. Sink holes and mud were not a problem when they were frozen, other than the deep snow made them invisible so you could stumble. Even if you stumbled, you didn't end up being thrown into the quagmire to drown in mud. You just got your hands and knees cold.
Once in Ely, he forgot about the stable that boarded the clan's horses. Instead he searched out the inns. The inns may have oregano, which would negate the need for lungwort. Besides which, the inns would have a giant hearth with a roaring fire. There were three inns in Ely, one on each road into town on the edge of town, near each of the three bridges. He made for the closest one first, and when he reached it he burst through the door and slammed it shut behind him.
There was no roaring fire in the hearth. There was no one in the tap room where the hearth was. He called out, and a call came back. "We're in the ladies room.” Of course they would be. The ladies retirement room had comfy couches and its own hearth. The room was small and easy to heat and had doors to keep the heat in. He walked into the room and immediately closed the door behind him. There were a dozen people sacked out on the furniture and on thick floor mats. He ignored them and made for the fire in the hearth.
"Oye, don't block my heat,” a woman in widows garb complained.
"Sorry mam,” he told her and moved along the hearth a bit, "and for your loss."
"My loss?” she replied. "Oh, you mean my clothes. The women of Ely have decided to wear widow's garbs out of respect for everyone's losses this year. Here, let me pour you some hot mulled ale to warm you.” Sh
e was generous in her measure. "What brings you out on such a day?"
Daniel unwrapped his scarf so he could throw back the hood of his cloak so the folk in the room would recognize him. Two other women immediately jumped up, one to get him some food, and the other to help him off with his boots. The Wellenhay clan brought a lot of business their way, and Daniel was one of the elders. "I have a friend struck down by bubble lung, and Wellenhay has used up all of their oregano. Do you have any?"
The woman dishing out the poacher's stew shook her head. "Nay, not since before Yule. The folks hereabouts have a taste for it with their lamb. They even prefer it to mint sauce."
"What about the other inns?” he asked hopefully.
"Same problem,” she replied.
"What about he bishop's palace?"
"Nothing left there, mate,” a man spoke up. The son of the innkeep. "The bishop is with the king, so his house has been looted.” He was pushing out his stomach to flaunt a silver belt buckle. "Though we didn't call it lootin'. Not here in Ely. Nay. The bishop left some unpaid bills, so we went and collected."
"He's right,” the woman added. "The last of our spices were from the bishop's larder."
It was bad and good news. The bad news was there was no oregano left in Ely. The good news was he didn't have to search out and ask anywhere else. Now that his bare feet were on a stool facing the fire, and now that he was spooning hot poachers stew into his mouth while warming his hands on the warm bowl, he was feeling better, more confident. His next foray out into the weather would be to the stable to claim one of the clan's horses for the ride to Cambridge. He opened his cloak to allow the reflection of the fire to heat his inside woolens.
"Ya staying the night, Danny?” the first woman asked. She had been primping and pumping herself and she had licked her lips to make them glossy. Once when he was but a lad she had seduced him, and then pinched his coppers for the pleasure, so she had a reason to ask.
