[Chapter 10]
Cilla made her way down the cobble road. Many people where out sweeping up the birds and talking about the strange event. Some seemed scared but no one was in terror which Cilla thought odd. Usually, this small town found itself in a tizzy over the smallest of occurrences. Surely seemingly hundreds of crows dropped dead on the streets was worth more reactions. But she began to realize she didn’t feel odd or upset about the event. Except when she closed her eyes and could only imagine the crows looking deep into hers. She shivered the thought out of her head as she went around the corner and found a large crowd by the mid-wife hut. Taken aback Cilla was worried about approaching but decided with so many she could at least blend in.
Agnetha sees Cilla pass though the crowd. Many of the townsfolk had come barging into her garden demanding answers for the crows. Agnetha didn’t have a clue what was happening and all the people trampling her rosemary bushes was not going to assist in investigating the situation. “Folks please stay on the path way. Hey, get off my carrot patch! WOULD YOU STOP INFRINGING ON MY GARDEN!?” The rumble of the towns people voices lowered to a reserved level; Agnetha could finally be heard over. Agnetha stepped up on her bench and addressed the growing crowd. “I understand you are all befuddled at today’s events. I am as well but I cannot possibly answer your questions with such chaos. I will address the town crier to spread news once there is news to spread. Please make your way back to your homes and off my tomato nursery!” As everyone was focused on Agnetha’s words Cilla slipped through to the back of the house and in through the patio door. She had only been inside Agnetha’s cottage on a few occasions. The back patio entered into one large room with stairs to the bedroom on the right.
The kitchen was a library, an apothecary, the dining room and surgical suite mashed into one. The hearth centered to the left always had a fire.
Cilla remembers when she was eight assisting father in carrying Otto to Agnetha’s home one winters night. He had gotten a metal sliver in his hand that had turned a grisly yellow and smelled of sulfur. Agnetha had Magnus lay the boy on her table after she cleared off the piles of books and bowl of stale porridge. She treated the fever, cleaned the wound, got the sliver out and closed him up. Within hours the boy had awoken from the mixture she had given him and a day later the fever had settled. Otto still has the scar. This was the day Cilla decided she wanted to be like Agnetha.
Agnetha had calmed the remainder of the town’s folk and one by one they walked the path up the hill towards the town. Homes used to be built closer but for some unknown reason continued to burn down year after year, so they decided to leave the field there unused. Nothing grew of great significance to the peoples untrained eyes, but Agnetha would gather the goldenrod, dandelions, mallow, feverfew and jewelweed that grew in abundance among the debris. Besides she preferred having space between them and her. She knew of the way they spoke of her in whispered tones and the accusations against her for the many deaths of the women. She had tried to assist with a concoction that allowed the ill to clear their lungs and therefore get better, but many ignored her advances. Instead, they turned to the most recent Doctor that had strolled through their town at the time, selling farmers discarded milk mixed with ground cocoa as a cure all.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Agnetha pulled Cilla in for a hug. Cilla allowed herself to be engulfed in the arms of the mid-wife. Scents of juniper, mint, and frankincense filled her nose. Agnetha let go of the young girl and noticed the herbs loosely wrapped in cotton placed by Cilla on her table among the many items. “Oh, you’re a carrier now? Delivering goods to all the fine people.” Agnetha chuckled as she unwrapped the hemp string holding the cotton in place. “I guess you could say that.” Cilla answered peering over at the herbs being removed in an attempt to recognize some from the books she had read. “I’ve actually been sent here to get your help.”
Agnetha looked up from her hands. “Oh, yes the birds, what a phenomenon!”
“Well, actually I’m not here because of those. Although I’m puzzled on the matter as well. Ivor’s father, the baker, is ill. He has the cough.” Cilla looked up at Agnetha’s face as she spoke. Hoping to catch a glimpse of emotion to the words. “Oh, poor thing has a cough. Yes, yes, I can help with that.” Agnetha replies only half paying attention to Cilla. She began wrapping the ends of the fresh herbs with the hemp rope and looking for an empty place among the very busy support beams to hang the bundles for drying.
“No. I don’t think you understand.” Cilla spoke a little firmer. “He has THE cough. Like before, with the deaths…” Cilla trailed on not sure how else to explain herself without bringing up memories of her own mothers passing. Cilla still struggles to not get overwrought when thinking of it all.
Agnetha stopped what she was doing and stepped down from her stool. Placing the rest of the herb bundles on the counter she wiped at her apron and stared out the window. “Anyone else?” Cilla shrugged. “Not that I know of. Ivor just brought it to my attention this morning. Right after the birds.” Agnetha turned to look at Cilla for a moment then walked to the wall furthest from them. She opened a large wooden pantry and pulled out a bottle. “I don’t have much left.” For a moment Cilla thinks she remembers this particular green vial with a small, stained paper label. Words scribbled on it, that Cilla could not make out. She vaguely remembers before her mother getting sick coming to Agnethas for iced tea in the garden. Agnetha had made a very sweet lavender and lemon drink Cilla drank a lot of. Mother took a sip but wouldn’t drink more as it was far too sweet for her taste. Plus, the milk she had had from the doctor earlier that morning was upsetting her stomach.
“Much of what?” Cilla inquired. Agnetha brushed off the question and began moving through the house collecting bottles and envelopes. Books and herbs. Placing each one on the ever-growing mountain of items along the table. Cilla stood by the hearth heating her hands feeling very in the way but not wanting to just leave without an answer. Ivor would be furious to not have the information he needs, and rightfully so. “Anything I can do?” She inquired.
Agnetha did not take notice of her as she rummaged through the books she had brought to the table. Setting them onto the bench as she was done with it. “Why didn’t I mark it. I should have known.” Agnetha mumbled under her breath, seaming more and more defeated as she went.
“Child, grab that red book. To your left. No right.” Agnetha ordered without even making a glance in Cilla’s direction. Cilla didn’t much like being called child, after all she was fifteen going on sixteen in the coming year. But none the less she found the book requested and held it out towards Agnetha. Although Agnetha didn’t take it. She didn’t even acknowledge the action. One, two, three books where riffled through and placed to the side as Cilla stood there, arm stretched out. “Well? Did you find it?” Agnetha asked suddenly. Taken aback Cilla brought the book to her chest and tilted her head at Agnetha. “Yes, the book is right here.” Holding it out once again. “No, no, no…. Look.” Agnetha stammered as she picked up one of the books in the discarded pile to look through again. Cilla turned around in her place, looking at the hearth behind her and counter to her left. “Is this not it?” Cilla questioned. Agnetha snapped the book in her hand shut and took a deep breath. “LOOK. Look in the book. Do you see it?” Agnetha said in a troubled tone. Cilla had not realized she too was to be looking through the books opened it to a random page. Not knowing why, she was looking, since she truly didn’t know what she was looking for. Came upon what seemed like a recipe for a drink that sounded bitter and downright horrific. “You’d need a lot of sugar to make this taste good.” She thought out loud to herself. “Sugar!? Give me!” Agnetha snapped the book from Cilla’s hands before she could even react. “YES! Good job my love. You did it!” Agnetha exclaimed as she hurried back to the pantry. “Why don’t you clear the table. I am going to need some space.”
