by C. M. Harald
'So no contagions, no miasmas, no unusual illnesses. What could have unbalanced your Humours? Food?'
'Now you mention it, maybe it was something to do with my food last night.' She thought back, something had struck her as odd at the time, but nothing that had really stood out, 'It didn't taste quite right. I put it down to me not eating that much meat, so not being used to it. Anyhow, I had a bit as a treat last night, bit o'rabbit. Thought I had boiled it up good and proper, but now I think about it, it was a bit off. It didn't look odd when I bought it, but wasn't quite as good when I took it out to cook.'
'Hmmm, could be the cause. You can usually get away with a bit of rot, especially on things like rabbit. I've come across the odd case in the past when people have been ill in this way after rotten food or when they've eaten their meat a little too rare. But then I don't often deal with this type of illness. If you can't cut it off, it doesn't usually come my way. Maybe an apothecary could confirm what's happened to you?'
'Won't waste my time with those thieves and as for that butcher who sold me the tainted meat, I'll be giving him a piece of my mind. You mark my words; he'll think twice before he crosses a wise woman again.'
Alvin nodded his head. He had no doubt that Col Butcher would get an earful, something that would undoubtedly strike fear into the minds of everyone within earshot. You simply did not cross Anna.
Anna had missed her chance to get her revenge on Col Butcher in the tavern that evening, or the subsequent evenings. It had taken her the best part of a week to rebuild enough strength to follow Col across the city to his preferred tavern. By the end of the trek she was physically exhausted, but the anger, fuelled by days of dwelling on the certainty that the butcher had disrespected her, was boiling over. She knew she would pay for pushing herself so hard, but the anger forced her body to follow her will. Tomorrow could look after itself.
There was now no doubt in her mind now that the butcher had deliberately cheated her. As she thought back to the incident at his shop she was convinced that she had seen him swap the good piece of rabbit that she had agreed to buy. He had swapped it with something rank and already wrapped. Anna was sure she had seen him switch it under the counter, at least she was certain she had seen the movement of his hands during this trick. Or maybe it had been when the butcher had hidden in his shop to avoid the duty of the hue and cry? That would have been a perfect opportunity to swap over the meat. Every time she thought about it, her fury at the disrespect fermented, growing uglier and more demanding of vengeance. He had dared to show his contempt for her, a wise woman, a woman his wife would need to help with childbirth, a woman who had the power to hex him and let all in the city know that he was under her curse. Never mind that she was trusted by the local priests, in fact trained by them, to baptise dying new-borns to ensure their journey to the afterlife would head in a heavenly direction. Hex him she would and she would damn all the priest to hell if they admonished her. After all, did the Church not threaten damnation to sinners, excommunication in the most extreme cases.
The butcher left the tavern early and there were too many people around for her to risk interfering with her planned confrontation. She wanted an audience, if possible, but not too big an audience, one that may intervene. Not only that, he was clearly sober, or as near as. The drink would make him more malleable, and he clearly had not had enough. She was also wanting to wait for full dark, certain that the chill and otherworldliness of the night would lend an otherworldly fear to her intended threats. Having followed him home Anna settled down in a disused doorway, across the marketplace, to consider her plans. The morning would be a good time to challenge him, not as good as during the night, but if she caught him first thing, when he opened the shop, his tiredness may work in her favour. She settled further into the doorway, tiredness overcoming her discomfort, and began to doze. She did not even register the ripe smells around her.
'Wake up! Wake up!' the man was shaking her shoulder. Anna was briefly confused, wondering why a man was waking her up. The ache in her legs brought back the memory of bedding down in the shop doorway.
'What you want?' Anna put a menacing note into the question, communicating her displeasure at being woken.
'The baby's coming. Come quick! I've been looking everywhere for you.'
Anna opened a tired eye to the darkness, intent on glaring at the excitable man. Recognising him she quickly remembered that his wife was due to give birth. With a groan she eased herself to her feet, many aches firing across her body.
'Have you sent someone to get my birthing chair? Has she confessed her sins?' She eased herself into her role as midwife, forgetting Col Butcher in the life and death trial that was childbirth.
The labour had been quick and pleasingly uncomplicated. The delivery had occurred late, well into the night. Safety was never something that could be guaranteed and the complicated and dangerous births that Anna had been present for were beyond count. For once, this baby had just popped straight out, the mother was well and Anna was certain the baby would survive the week and probably had as good as a fifty-fifty chance of surviving her first year. The parents had been more relived that joyful. It was not the first child this mother had birthed, but certainly the easiest, and barring unexpected infections, she would recover quickly.
After tidying up and once again checking on mother and child, Anna had carried off, for disposal, the bucket of bloody water and the placenta. The family had few spare rags and those they had provided, they would wash and bleach in the sun until they were usable again. Anna would do the same with the few rags she had brought. There was no point carrying the full bucket far, so Anna headed for Shitebrook. It was not too far out of her way and there really was not anywhere else she could leave the waste. Well, she thought to herself, she could leave it in the middle of the street for those lazy muckrakers to clear up, but she knew they would merely take the waste outside the city walls and dispose of it in Shitebrook instead of taking it well away from the city. She could do that for herself. Half measures were what she was used to from those well-paid street cleaners, besides, she could not see how leaving waste in a street, waiting for the muckrakers to get around to it, was going to be good for anyone. At the very least it would lead to more injurious miasmas floating around for people to breath in. At worst, vermin would be encouraged, especially the pigs that some people kept inside the city walls despite the mayor trying to get the animals banned from within the city.
As she poured out the waste bucket into the ditch, she was surprised to see Col Butcher walking, or was it staggering, towards her. She quickly deduced that what had started out as a dismal evening was beginning to turn into a very productive night. Time to make the sod pay with a lesson he would never forget. He had clearly gone back to the tavern for some late night drinking while she was busy delivering the child.
'Oh butcher?' she said in her most enticing voice, 'Would you care to come over her and help me?'
He emitted a grunt and staggered towards her. Typical man, she thought, a few drinks and they all fall for the damsel in need of help.
'What is it love?' So he's not so far gone that he can talk, she thought. Excellent, she would teach him a lesson he would never forget.
'I need some help with my bucket.' She pretended to strain at the imagined weight of the now empty bucket.
'I thinnnnk, I think, I think I can help you with that.' Definitely drunk, she thought, even slurring.
Anna let the butcher take the handle of the bucket, noting the lack of control he had over his hand. How much had he drunk? As he straightened up she stepped closer, raising her knee quickly between his legs. He yelped in pain and Anna hastily stepped back as his spare hand reach forward to steady himself on her. Before she knew it, he was falling forward, the hand that had held the bucket handle, now holding the tender place between his legs. He lay squirming on the follow for a while.
'Why?' He gasped as soon as he could muster enough energy, 'What was that for?'
'Argh!' the sharp pain shot through him, overwhelming the dull throb from elsewhere.
'Does that help your memory? Do you need more help?'
'Stop!' He shouted as his assailant moved around him to kick the other ankle, 'I've done something wrong to you?' He looked at the face of his assailant for any clues, 'I've cheated you. You're not like the others who have assailed me tonight, they did not touch me.'
'You're right, you've cheated me all right.' Anna did not pick up on the comment about 'others', 'You sold me dodgy meat when I was distracted. I get knocked down by a thief and while you hide from the hue and cry, then you go and swap a good piece of meat for something rotten and still charge me the same price.'
'I can't remember. Honestly, I can't. I would only have done it to make some more money. I didn't mean to be visited by your spirits all night.'
'What do you mean, spirits?'
'You sent spirits to torment me, to show me my wrongs. You're a witch like they said you are. I've been seeing them all night. Please take them away.' He pleaded.
Anna could tell that the butcher was desperate. If he were not in so much pain, she would not have been surprised to see him prostrated before her. What was the man on about with these spirits? She had sent no such thing, nor did she think she really could. While she might threaten all sorts of things to keep people in line, she was still fearful of the divine judgement she would experience for herself. Mind, there was no harm in going along with this, perhaps he would mend his ways?
'Did you listen to the spirits?'
'How could I not? They kept accusing me of all the wrong things I've done. There's one there now.' He started to look over her shoulder, and began to address the vision, 'No I didn't. It wasn't like that.' He pleaded, 'I never meant no harm. Go away!' With the shout, the butcher drew himself to his feet, all semblance of pain going, 'I'm warning you, keep back!'
Anna had not moved towards him, nor could she see the apparition that was clearly bothering him. Before she could get scared the butcher rushed towards her, hatred on his face. She raised her hand and hit with all her might, striking a solid blow on his temple. The impact threw her off-balance and she fell to the ground, the man crumpling beside her. Spirits? Why had he rushed her? He had seemed distracted. Was it the spirits he was seeing? Anna could not work out quite what had happened, but was a little scared by the whole idea of actual spirits taking an interest in her life. She would not rule out spirits as he had certainly acted as if he had seen something. Mind, it was probably the alcohol, he had certainly seemed drunk enough, stupid sod.
She checked on him when he did not start to get up. He was breathing fine but was out cold. She collected herself and got up. The knuckles on her hand were sore, she must have really belted him. As she brushed herself off, she considered whether he had learnt his lesson. He certainly knew he had cheated her and he would think twice before cheating her again. Whether he had actually been tormented by spirits or not, she would have complete power over him should she ever have need to exercise it. She considered rolling him completely into the filthy ditch, he was half in as it was, but she decided against it as he was out cold and might drown. He had learnt enough from her.
Chapter 5 - The Carniter
The flesh stank, the surface glittered in the half light that penetrated the cover, and Perry knew that when he took it out into daylight, the meat would be discoloured and covered in slim. Liquids were dripping from a corner and he knew this would be the fat decomposing, rather than the blood that would drain from fresher meat. The meat in the barrels would probably be worse as purification would most likely have begun. Furthermore, the barrels were not under a cover, instead sat in the blazing sun on the back of the cart. Still, the smell did not disturb him as he had plenty of experience with foods that were past their best, and this find was exactly what he had been looking for. At last he had caught one of the gang that he knew to be moving rotten and putrefied meat into the city.
Perry jumped down from the back of the cart, having spent a few minutes confirming the contents of the barrels. Someone passing by on the road gagged at the smell that followed Perry down. Meanwhile the buzzing of the flies began to rise. The small black creatures had accompanied the cart ever since the start of the journey. He was pleased that all the time he had spent sitting around in taverns, listening in on conversations, had paid off yet again. He had overheard that this cart was coming in today. All he had to do now was find out exactly where the destination was, making sure he was present to catch all the parties handling the foul goods. Afterwards, he could track the goods back to their source and deal with those individuals. Unfortunately, his espionage had not uncovered the full details as his sources had simply discussed town gossip. Even when he had tried to ply them with drink, to loosen their tongues, they had clammed up tight rather than cooperate with an officer of the court. The cart driver would at least have some idea of the source and destination of these vile foods.
As a carniter, it was John Perry's job to check the quality of foodstuffs on behalf of the sheriff. Adulteration of food was increasingly an issue, with some unscrupulous sellers even trying to pass off poor quality items to the monasteries and even the households of the rich and powerful. As a member of the court leet, Perry was able to exercise legal powers to search and arrest those he suspected of guilt. The court leet would require reasonable evidence or reliable witnesses, such as himself, but they would convict anyone he proved guilty. For less serious crimes, he could just use the local courts, although Perry increasingly took advantage of the new justices of the peace, who could deal with cases far more quickly, especially useful as the court leet only met a few times a year.
'You! Come here.' Perry addressed the oxen driver, who was busy tending to the pair of oxen while trying to look unimportant.
'What you want then?' The driver got straight to the point, angry at having been stopped and searched.
'You've been moving unfit meat to market.'
'What? That stuff in the back? That's perfectly fine stuff. Would feed it to my own blessed mother.'
Perry climbed up onto the cart, tipping one of the barrels to the ground. He was not prepared to play games and often found that overwhelming evidence would speed up the process. As he expected, the barrel did not smash. Jumping down and turning the barrel upright, he forced the lid off. The protesting of the oxen driver was ignored throughout this show. Prepared for a worsening of the odour that surrounded the cart, Perry held his breath as the lid came away. The driver, however was not, and backed away gagging at the vile smell.
'Perfectly normal is it? Feed it to your dear old mother would you?' Perry did not expect an answer, instead grabbing the driver by the back of the neck and forcing him forward, his face turned toward the open barrel, 'Of course, we could put you in the stocks and pile up the meat underneath your nose? How normal would you find this rubbish then?' Perry let go of the driver who started to vomit, falling to his knees with a rapidly growing puddle in front of him. Some people passing by on the road walked quickly by, intimidated by both Perry's aggressiveness and the smell. Eventually the driver rolled over and stopped, having emptied his stomach.
'So, what have you got to say for all this?' Perry asked.
'I know nothing. It's not my stuff, I'm only paid to move things around.' The driver slowly got up, careful to move upwind of both the open barrel and the mess he had created. 'Tis my cart and my trade, I'm not owned by no-one.'
'What's your name?'
'Wilf Tomson.'
'How long you been doing this then Wilf?' Perry started to take a gentler approach, he had made his point and he expected a fair degree of cooperation now.
'Driving oxen since I was a lad.' The driver shrugged his shoulders, 'Er, my dad did it before me when he got made a freeman.'
'No, mov
ing rotten meat around the countryside. How long have you been doing that?' The tone was firmer. Perry was not a particularly patient man and had no intention of dealing with any more evasiveness.
'Best part of five years if you mean working for the people who gave me this stuff.'
'So you know everyone who's involved then?'
'Of course not, and even if I did you won't get me standing up in front of no court. Everyone in the countryside is at it, but those city blokes, they'd 'ave me if I spoke against them in court.' Tomson was clearly more scared of the gang than he was of the carniter. Perry would have to do something about that.
'Here's what we're going to do Wilf.' Perry stepped toward Tomson, in what he hoped was a menacing fashion, 'I can't put everyone in the countryside on trial.' His tone made it clear that if Tomson helped him, then the oxen driver would not end up on trial, 'I need to go after the people who make the money and sell foul meat to the victims of this trade. You are going to deliver this muck and then I'm going to catch the people who are selling it. Shouldn't be too hard as there are only a couple of butchers in the city.' He put his hand up to silence an interruption from Tomson, 'Yes, I know who's involved in the city, but I've got to catch them in possession of the rotten meat before I can do anything. Putting you up as a witness at the court would not be enough, they'd wiggle out of it somehow, whereas arresting them as they receive the meat, well that would be perfect.'
'They'd bloody kill me either way.' Wilf was worried.
'They'll not even know you were involved. Just you and me will know that, if you get what I mean.'
'No, what do you mean?' Tomson knew exactly what Perry meant.
