he was struck with mysterious boils. Some said these proved his charges, while others said they were God's punishment for his wicked lies."
My eyes grew wide with wonder. "Is she a witch?" I asked. "I have read about those who practice the black arts."
"She is powerful, but not in the service of evil. Yet I would not deceive or cross her," she said.
Mechtild's small house with its thatched roof huddled at the edge of the woods. In a clearing spread a vast garden teeming with familiar and exotic plants, the ingredients of all the vaned medicines and liniments favored at court. The wise woman came forth with slow steps to meet us. She looked more feeble than powerful, and hardly dangerous. At her side trotted a little black dog as wiry and wizened as she. I shrank from it until the little creature licked my hand in a friendly greeting, and I could not help but smile at it.
"Do not fear, he will not harm you," Mechtild said. Though bent almost double, she stared up at me with black eyes that seemed to know my past, while Elnora stated her business.
"The queen has been troubled with sleepless nights of late. She wakens and cannot return to sleep, and her pulse beats fast. The barley water with crushed poppy no longer brings her ease."
Mechtild nodded wisely and beckoned for us to follow her into the garden. Its lush wildness embraced us, and strange scents greeted my nose. A black-stalked plant towered over us, its dark green leaves, broader than a man's hand, sheltering purple bell-shaped flowers. Mechtild fingered these thoughtfully.
"Nightshade, perhaps. A few berries only. Leaves, moistened in wine, applied to the temple." The old woman murmured to herself, but my ears caught her words and fed them to my memory. "Not the mandrake, much too strong. Perhaps infused with a drop of henbane instead." Having made her decision, she plucked some leaves and berries.
"For you, my child," Mechtild said, turning her sharp eyes on me, "I recommend the water of distilled strawberry, for it not only smooths the skin, it guards against the passions of the heart."
"I am a green girl. I know nothing of love," I murmured, looking down at the dog.
"Ah, but you soon will. No one who is at court can remain innocent in the ways of love. See that you mind your passions," she said, holding up a bent forefinger to underscore her advice.
I thought of the knavish Edmund and his dark desires. I remembered how I quivered when Hamlet pulled me from the brook and gazed on me. As Mechtild seemed able to pierce my mind, I wished to change the topic.
"Have you something for Elnora?" I said. "Though she will not complain, I know that a pain in her side often troubles her, making her breathing difficult."
"Ophelia! That is not our purpose today," Elnora said sharply, but her rebuke was a mild one.
"Hmmm, a thoughtful girl. Cumin is what I advise. Rare and odorous. Not in your queen's herb bed, I am sure. A poultice applied to the side. I will prepare it now." She led us toward the cottage.
Inside the small house, a large cupboard dominated the single room. Curious, I watched while Mechtild unlocked the doors to reveal all the tools of an apothecary. She drew out a mortar and pestle and began to grind seeds while Elnora tested the scale.
Meanwhile my gaze was drawn to the topmost shelf of the cupboard. I stared at a row of dark vials, sealed in red wax, the labels bearing the symbol of a death's head. I drew in my breath with an audible gasp that made Mechtild look up from her work.
"Tincture of belladonna. Grams of opium. Henbane distilled. If ill-used, these bring death," she explained soberly.
"Tush, Ophelia, turn away your gaze lest you tempt evil," said Elnora, crossing herself and pushing me away.
Mechtild closed the cupboard door and turned the key. Removing it, she thrust it deep into her pocket, where the curve of her old body surely protected many secrets.
Chapter 5
Not long after our visit to Mechtild, I discovered a book that
My eyes grew wide with wonder. "Is she a witch?" I asked. "I have read about those who practice the black arts."
"She is powerful, but not in the service of evil. Yet I would not deceive or cross her," she said.
Mechtild's small house with its thatched roof huddled at the edge of the woods. In a clearing spread a vast garden teeming with familiar and exotic plants, the ingredients of all the vaned medicines and liniments favored at court. The wise woman came forth with slow steps to meet us. She looked more feeble than powerful, and hardly dangerous. At her side trotted a little black dog as wiry and wizened as she. I shrank from it until the little creature licked my hand in a friendly greeting, and I could not help but smile at it.
"Do not fear, he will not harm you," Mechtild said. Though bent almost double, she stared up at me with black eyes that seemed to know my past, while Elnora stated her business.
"The queen has been troubled with sleepless nights of late. She wakens and cannot return to sleep, and her pulse beats fast. The barley water with crushed poppy no longer brings her ease."
Mechtild nodded wisely and beckoned for us to follow her into the garden. Its lush wildness embraced us, and strange scents greeted my nose. A black-stalked plant towered over us, its dark green leaves, broader than a man's hand, sheltering purple bell-shaped flowers. Mechtild fingered these thoughtfully.
"Nightshade, perhaps. A few berries only. Leaves, moistened in wine, applied to the temple." The old woman murmured to herself, but my ears caught her words and fed them to my memory. "Not the mandrake, much too strong. Perhaps infused with a drop of henbane instead." Having made her decision, she plucked some leaves and berries.
"For you, my child," Mechtild said, turning her sharp eyes on me, "I recommend the water of distilled strawberry, for it not only smooths the skin, it guards against the passions of the heart."
"I am a green girl. I know nothing of love," I murmured, looking down at the dog.
"Ah, but you soon will. No one who is at court can remain innocent in the ways of love. See that you mind your passions," she said, holding up a bent forefinger to underscore her advice.
I thought of the knavish Edmund and his dark desires. I remembered how I quivered when Hamlet pulled me from the brook and gazed on me. As Mechtild seemed able to pierce my mind, I wished to change the topic.
"Have you something for Elnora?" I said. "Though she will not complain, I know that a pain in her side often troubles her, making her breathing difficult."
"Ophelia! That is not our purpose today," Elnora said sharply, but her rebuke was a mild one.
"Hmmm, a thoughtful girl. Cumin is what I advise. Rare and odorous. Not in your queen's herb bed, I am sure. A poultice applied to the side. I will prepare it now." She led us toward the cottage.
Inside the small house, a large cupboard dominated the single room. Curious, I watched while Mechtild unlocked the doors to reveal all the tools of an apothecary. She drew out a mortar and pestle and began to grind seeds while Elnora tested the scale.
Meanwhile my gaze was drawn to the topmost shelf of the cupboard. I stared at a row of dark vials, sealed in red wax, the labels bearing the symbol of a death's head. I drew in my breath with an audible gasp that made Mechtild look up from her work.
"Tincture of belladonna. Grams of opium. Henbane distilled. If ill-used, these bring death," she explained soberly.
"Tush, Ophelia, turn away your gaze lest you tempt evil," said Elnora, crossing herself and pushing me away.
Mechtild closed the cupboard door and turned the key. Removing it, she thrust it deep into her pocket, where the curve of her old body surely protected many secrets.
Chapter 5
Not long after our visit to Mechtild, I discovered a book that
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