I Was Told There Was a Sister

Inside the apothecary’s house, the mismatched timber beams had been blackened by years of smoke. And, possibly, one or two explosions. The single shuttered window admitted only the faintest morning light, but kept the morning chill at bay. Competing scents of saffron, sage, crushed roses, angelica, powdered herbs filled the air, and a closed pot released the strong essence of vinegar when Agnes opened it to peek inside.

Still unnerved by the encounter with the plague doctor outside, the small nun turned her attention toward the uneven wooden shelves. Soon, the unlabeled jars, the stone mortars and pestles distracted her. Some of the vials had symbols or cramped scribbles in Latin. The glazed earthenware jars and leather pouches displayed drawings of serpents, a few recognizable flowers, and even spiders.

This is when she noticed one little jar containing a blue, sparkly liquid sealed with a cork stopper. It had been set aside, as if forgotten in a corner. Agnes lifted her veil to examine it. The label had a drawing of a star. Her little face again settled into an expression of displeasure. And indignation.

But soon, Alaric’s heavy footsteps made the stairs creak as he made his way down from his sleeping quarters. Agnes immediately lowered her veil to cover the top half of her face yet again when the wide-set man entered, mid-yawn.

”You again,” he half complained with sleepy eyes. “And even earlier than the last time.”

”Abbess Elinor’s orders.”

Alaric scratched the exposed portion of his hairy belly and yawned again.

“Show me.”

Agnes simply lifted the linen covering the basket so Alaric could examine its meticulously organized contents.

”More dried root…good. But what do we have here…? Ooh… fresh rosemary… And sorrel…at last!”

”There are violets and some young nettles,” Agnes pointed out. “More honey as well.”

”Good…good…”

The door opened aggressively.

”Ah, Lorenzo,” Alaric greeted. “Come in.”

It was …him.

A masculine rasp came through the leather, low and filtered.

”What do you have for me?”

”And a good morrow to you too!” Alaric said.

Agnes remained frozen.

“A most blessed delivery from the cloister. And you get first choice,” Alaric’s cheerfulness remained steadfast.

The enigmatic curved beak turned towards the tiny nun. He gave one simple nod.

“And what unfortunate hole did you crawl out of?” Alaric asked, clearing the counter from the leftover resins and crushed grains from last night’s work with his bare hand.

“I spent the night at the miller’s,” Lorenzo replied. “His wife.”

”Aye. Will she recover?”

The plague doctor said nothing. Alaric crossed himself.

”Anything fresh?” Lorenzo asked, surveying the basket without hesitation.

Agnes almost held her breath as she lifted the linen from the basket again.

“No,” he said. “Lay it out.”

Alaric nodded and the contents were laid on the weathered counter. Dust turned slowly in the single ray of light that entered through the shutters, yet kept the mysterious visitor discreetly shrouded. The black leather of his gloves creaked as he reached for the angelica first.

“I’ll take this, all your linens, and a third of everything else,” he said simply. “Leave the rest for the others. No. No rue. Three patients became weaker after taking it.”

He paused for a moment.

“I don’t see theriac here.”

”I may have some left on the back shelf,” Alaric nodded and then moved ten steps back to rummage through his poorly organized inventory.

For a few moments, no one spoke. Without discretion or manners, little Agnes gawked openly at the customer. His leather shifted uncomfortably. Then, she observed how his eyes turned into two dull mirrors where she caught her partly veiled face.

”And you can take that blue vial back to your abbess,” Lorenzo said then. “I have no use for it.”

Agnes remained fixated.

“And tell your sisters to never send me unknown concoctions. Especially ones that contain woad,” he instructed. “It’s been known to be toxic to infants.”

“Not in small doses,” Agnes retorted, without thinking.

Lorenzo gave her a look. She covered her mouth.

”Then it was you who added them?” he asked. “They could have killed someone.”

Agnes stopped covering her mouth and, instead, looked directly at him.

”The infant perished regardless,” Agnes said. “Did he not?”

Lorenzo paused. His head lowered briefly, as if he had been punched in the stomach. Alaric held on to the theriac he had found, and stayed quiet, as if almost bracing.

Lorenzo composed himself yet again. Then, he took a step forward until he was practically looming over Agnes.

”I was told there was a sister. A much older sister,” he said.

Agnes removed the veil that covered her face.

”Not I. I have no one, sir,” she said. “And now, after your intervention, neither does our poor Sister Beatrice.”

Alaric rushed from behind the counter to pat angry Agnes on the head.

“Please, Lorenzo. Don’t mind this… absurd little creature… We’re all short of hands these days, you see. Now that Paul is off to the campaigns and William left to care for his dear sick mum, I can no longer pick up supplies from the cloister cellars in person. Little Sister Agnes here appears to be blessedly unaffected by the pestilence, so she is making the deliveries for the time being.”

”Unaffected?” Lorenzo asked, but then the small table on the corner caught his eye. “Wait. I had set aside three blue vials to be returned. Where are the other two?”

”I…don’t know,” Alaric admitted. “I believe Cedric took one to old man John, the butcher, who’s showing signs. He gave the other one to Edgar.”

”Ugh, Cedric,” Lorenzo grumbled.

Since Lorenzo looked visibly vexed, both Agnes and Alaric remained quiet until the apothecary spoke.

“Can I fetch you anything else?”

Lorenzo looked straight ahead out the window as the sun shone through the shutters.

”I’ll… take some ale if you have it.”

Agnes looked up.

”I am…sorry, Lorenzo.”

The plague doctor let out another subtle sigh and straightened up.

”My gratitude to your abbess,” Lorenzo said. “Tell Sister Beatrice that I…”

But he walked away without another word.

Once again, Alaric and Agnes were left in silence facing the counter filled with materia medica.

“Add it all to my account,” Alaric said.

Agnes then extended her little white hand to Alaric, while her eyes still gazed after the black silhouette now vanishing in the street beyond those sealed apothecary shutters.

”No.”