Introducing the Herbarium
Inspired by the foxglove (Digitalis purpurea), a plant which provides a wonderful cure for complaints of the heart when properly used. Used improperly, it’s usually fatal.
When Leonura stepped into the circle the forest shivered expectantly. The ragbag gathering of people around her shifted from foot to foot, looked over their shoulders, muttered. She had found them at the Hartstongue Inn, and chivvied them outside and off into a clearing. Healers and herbsters and hangers-on, thought Leonura. They all think they have something to gain. And so they have. She took off her gloves and clapped her hands.
‘Listen to me and you will learn something to your advantage. Not all of you know each other, so first we will have introductions. I am Leonura, wise-woman and herbalist.’
‘And witch,’ someone muttered. She glared at him.
‘Not a witch. Occasional spell-caster, as are some of you. Strictly benign. But let’s keep all that between ourselves, shall we?’ she said firmly. ‘Now then, the rest of you. Let’s begin here.’ She rapped smartly on the Toad Man’s upturned coracle. ‘Anybody in?’
The coracle tilted up and its owner emerged blinking into the light. ‘I am Alan of Rosworth,’ he said, adding resignedly, ‘but most of you know me as Toad Man. I sometimes deal in venoms.’ And with that he retreated back under the coracle.
‘Very well,’ said Leonura. ‘Toad Man. Sometimes deals in venoms. Next.’
Dr Buckler stepped forward, smiling.
‘Barabas Buckler, Doctor,’ he said, bowing. ‘I deal in cures, sure cures.’ Leonura glared at him and his smile slipped away. ‘I do no harm,’ he added defensively.
‘Splendid,’ said Leonura. ‘Dr Buckler.’ She sniffed. ‘Does no harm. Next.’
The Bearded Lady took her turn. ‘Ursula Borage,’ she said. ‘Or Bearded Lady, if you must. I deal in cures for winter ailments. Real cures,’ she added, looking pointedly at Dr Buckler, ‘not just coloured waters.’
‘Welcome, colleague,’ said Leonura with obvious respect. ‘Ursula Borage. Winter ailments. Next.’
The fork-tongued man edged forward. People stood aside uneasily.
‘They call me Adderth-tongue,’ he lisped. ‘Antidote for thnakebite. Of courth.’ He chuckled unpleasantly.
Leonura nodded. ‘Adders-tongue. Anti-venom. Next.’
In a ringing voice The Monk said, ‘I am Stephen of Epping. They call me The Monk because I have the reading and writing. But I am not clergy. I deal in contracts, letters and written spells and curses.’
‘Stephen of Epping. Literary services,’ said Leonura. ‘Next.’
The tall, pale woman in violet robes picked her way into the circle. ‘Honesty,’ she said. ‘I do not deal in bottles of coloured water. I foretell the future. Private consultations,’ she added hastily, eying the scruffy group around her, ‘expensive. I offer moon-healings to those who can afford it.’
‘Thank you,’ said Leonura. ‘Honesty. Seer. Moon-healings. Next’
A small nervous man tottered forward. ‘Knitbone,’ he said. ‘Broken bones are my speciality. Improvements guaranteed.’ He stepped back hastily.
‘Mr Knitbone,’ said Leonura, a little weary now. ‘Breakages fixed. Next’
‘Mercurio,’ said the silver-haired man, waving cheerfully. ‘You all know me.’ He winked. ‘Intimate ailments cured.’
‘Mercurio,’ said Leonura, waving him back again. ‘Unmentionables. Next’
A very ragged man stepped into the circle. ‘Timothy Burdock,’ he said. ‘Baldness cures.’
‘You won’t be getting any business from me, then,’ said the Bearded Lady, and laughter broke out.
Leonura clapped her hands for silence. ‘Mr Burdock. Baldness. Very well. Is that everyone?’
‘All except him,’ Said Ursula Borage, nodding towards Old Rustyback, lurking between the trees.
‘Come forward, you,’ said Leonura.
‘They call me Rustyback, on account o’ my cloak,’ he said. ‘I deal in cures, now and then.’
‘What he means,’ said Dr Buckler, ‘is that he buys them cheap from us and sells them on dearer, the rogue.’
Rustyback stepped away, shaking his head urgently. ‘No, sir, not me sir. You are mistaken…’
Leonura intervened. ‘Rustyback. Occasional dealer in cures.’
He nodded gratefully and sidled away.
‘Very well,’ said Leonura. ‘I’ll tell you why you’re all here, shall I?’
Sign of the Herbarium
Inspired by the hedge woundwort (Stachys sylvatica), a plant, that though a little smelly is generally considered good for treating wounds, just like the Herbarium themselves!
‘I have a proposition for you all. I’ll promise not to poison you, if you’ll undertake not to poison me. That’s fair, isn’t it?’
An uneasy silence followed, until the toad man came out of his shell again and said, ‘So we all agree not to poison each other? Not even if seriously provoked?’
‘That is the idea,’ said Leonura, patiently. ‘Support each other. Like the town guilds.’
It was an invigorating and unusual thought; a healers’ guild. Everyone present was clearly wondering if it could be made to work. They were all in competition with each other, to a degree. And poisoning competitors was a not uncommon means of dealing with the problem.
‘So,’ said the toad man, ‘we only poison people who aren’t in the guild, if they make a nuisance of themselves?’
Honesty stepped forward. ‘But I don’t go around poisoning people. I don’t deal in poisons. I deal in cures.’
‘Cures and poisons is one and the same,’ said Dr Buckler. ‘Just depends on the quantity, don’t it?’
Everyone sniggered. It was indeed just a matter of quantity. But they agreed anyway same that non-poisoners would be welcome in the new guild, and that the poisoning of those outside it would be an optional activity.
They began to chatter amongst themselves, so Leonura clapped her hands for silence. ‘We will call this healers’ guild The Herbarium. We will sit down this night and decide on its rules and conditions of membership.’ There was unhappy muttering. ‘I will provide food for all of you.’ The muttering ceased.
The toad man had not retreated under his coracle. ‘I suppose you propose yourself as head of this guild, do you?’ he asked Leonura.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I propose my grand-daughter, May.’ That girl? The shocked silence lasted a long while.
*
There were rumours in the village. Odd stories. Tam Ullage at the inn didn’t know what to make of them. And Tam, as landlord of the Round House, felt it his natural duty to know what was going on. He prowled the bar, gathering scraps of information as people dropped in. All those healers and quacks and whatnot had deserted his pub and gone to the Hartstongue Inn. That rat-trap! It was unthinkable. Not only that – they had gathered together in the forest afterwards, somebody said, formed a circle, talked gravely. A little later, that story had evolved, and the circle had transformed itself into a round table. They had all gathered, taken their place at a round table in the forest. Honest. Not a word of a lie! At each telling the tale was further embroidered: now each healer had appeared in rich clothing, carrying a pennant with a coat of arms.
Tam doubted this entirely. That bunch of raggedy-bags? Where would they obtain such things? But the reports continued. They had broadswords, and golden helmets with feathers – even the women. Some arrived on white horses with red and gold caparisons.
‘Oh, come along now,’ said Tam. ‘You can’t expect me to believe that. We’ll be having swords in stones in a minute!’
Look out for part 8 of The Herbarium, in which the first secrets are revealed.
We delve deeper into the story. Well done, Kathy. Love it!!
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