The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

stallion's stiffy as we speak , Mr de Z., aye, as we speak , an' why?'
    Jacob stops. 'How can you possibly know about my mercury?'
    'Hearken to my Joyous Tidin's, eh? One o' the Shogun's numerous sons,' Grote lowers his voice, 'undertook the mercury cure, this spring. The treatment's been known here twenty years but weren't never trusted but this princeling's gherkin was so rotted it glowed green; one course o' Dutch pox-powder an' Praise the Lord, he's cured! The story spreads like wildfire; ev'ry apothecary in the land's howlin' f'the miraculous elixir, eh; an' here comes you with eight crates! Let me negotiate an' yer'll make enough to buy a thousand hats; do it yerself an' they'll skin yer an' make you into the hat, my friend.'
    'How,' Jacob finds himself walking again, 'do you know about my mercury?'
    'Rats,' Arie Grote whispers. 'Aye, rats. I feed the rats tidbits now an' then; an' the rats tell me what's what an' that's that. Voila , eh? Here's the Hospital; a journey shared's a journey halved, eh? So, we're agreed: I'll act as yer agent forthwith, eh? No need for contracts or such stuff: a gentleman'll not break his word. Until later . . .'
    Arie Grote is walking back down Long Street to the Crossroads.
    Jacob calls after him, 'But I never gave you my word!'

    The Hospital door opens into a narrow hall. Ahead, a ladder ascends to a trapdoor, propped open; to the right, a doorway gives into the Surgery, a large room ruled over by an age-mottled skeleton crucified on a T-frame. Jacob tries not to think of Ogawa finding his Psalter. An operating table is equipped with cords and apertures, and plastered with blood-stains. There are racks for the surgeon's saws, knives, scissors and chisels; mortars and pestles; a giant cabinet to house, Jacob assumes, materia medica ; bleeding bowls; and several benches and tables. The smell of fresh sawdust mingles with wax, herbs and a clayey whiff of liver. Through a doorway is the Sick Room, with three vacant beds. Jacob is tempted by an earthenware jar of water: he drinks with the ladle - it is cool and sweet.
    Why is nobody here , he wonders, to protect the place from thieves?
    A young servant or slave appears, swishing a broom: he is barefoot, handsome, and attired in a fine surplice and loose Indian trousers.
    Jacob feels a need to justify his presence. 'Dr Marinus's slave?'
    'The doctor employs me,' the youth's Dutch is good, 'as an assistant, sir.'
    'Is that so? I'm the new clerk, de Zoet: and your name is?'
    The man's bow is courteous, not servile. 'My name is Eelattu, sir.'
    'What part of the world do you hail from, Eelattu?'
    'I was born in Colombo on the island of Ceylon, sir.'
    Jacob is unsettled by his suavity. 'Where is your master now?'
    'At study, upstairs: do you desire that I fetch him?'
    'There's no need - I shall go up and introduce myself.'
    'Yes, sir: but the doctor prefers not to receive visitors--'
    'Oh, he'll not object when he learns what I bring him . . .'

    Through the trapdoor, Jacob peers into a long, well-furnished attic. Halfway down is Marinus's harpsichord, referred to weeks ago in Batavia by Jacob's friend Mr Zwaardecroone; it is allegedly the only harpsichord ever to travel to Japan. At the far end is a ruddy and ursine European of about fifty years, with tied-back, stony hair. He is sitting on the floor at a low table in a well of light, drawing a flame-orange orchid. Jacob knocks on the trapdoor. 'Good afternoon, Dr Marinus.'
    The doctor, his shirt unbuttoned, does not respond.
    'Dr Marinus? I am delighted to make your acquaintance, at last . . .'
    Still, the doctor gives no indication of having heard.
    The clerk raises his voice: 'Dr Marinus? I apologise for disturb--'
    'From what mouse-hole,' Marinus glares, 'did you spring?'
    'I just arrived a quarter hour ago, from the Shenandoah ? My name's--'
    'Did I ask for your name? No: I asked for your fons et origo .'
    'Domburg, sir: a coastal town on Walcheren Island, in Zeeland.'
    'Walcheren, is it? I