It was said that even then he pictured the further fate of that place quite distinctly, that, even at that remote time, he allegedly knew that in 1495 a cemetery church would be constructed on the site of his log house. The church was built in gratitude for the favorable conclusion of the year 1492, the seven thousandth year since the Creation of the world. The anticipated end of the world did not come to pass that year, but Christofer’s namesake did discover America (though nobody paid any attention to this at the time), unexpectedly for himself and others.
The church is destroyed by the Poles in 1609. The cemetery falls into neglect and a pine forest grows in its place. Apparitions chat up mushroom pickers from time to time. In 1817, the merchant Kozlov acquires the forest to produce lumber. Two years later, a charity hospital is built on the cleared site. Exactly one hundred years later, the district secret police move into the hospital building. In keeping with the property’s initial purpose, that institution organizes mass burials there. In 1942, the German pilot Heinrich von Einsiedel wipes the building off the face of the earth with a well-aimed hit. In 1947, the plot of land is retooled as a military proving ground and transferred to the Seventh Tank Brigade of the Order of the Red Banner, named for Kliment Voroshilov. The land has belonged to the “White Nights” gardening association since 1991. The group’s members unearth large quantities of bones and missile shells along with potatoes, but they are in no rush to complain to the local authorities. They know nobody would grant them other land anyway.
It fell to us to live on land like this, they say.
This detailed vision indicated to Christofer that the land would stay untouched in his lifetime and his chosen home would remain intact for fifty-four years. Christofer understood that fifty-four years was considerable for a country with a turbulent history.
It was a five-wall house: in addition to the four outer walls, its log framework had a fifth, interior, wall. Partitioning the framework formed two rooms, one warm (with a stove), the other cold.
When he took up residence in the house, Christofer checked for cracks between the logs and replaced the bull’s-bladder that was stretched over the windows. He took oily beans and juniper berries and mixed them with juniper chips and frankincense. He added oak leaves and leaves of rue, ground it finely, placed it upon coals, and worked to fill the house with smoke all day long.
Christofer did not consider this precaution excessive, despite knowing the pestilence left houses on its own, over time. He was afraid for the relatives who might visit him. He was also afraid for those he treated, because they were constantly in his house. Christofer was a herbalist and all sorts of people came to see him.
People came with torturous coughs. He gave them ground wheat with barley flour that he mixed with honey. Sometimes some boiled farro, too, because farro draws moisture from the lungs. Depending on the type of cough, he might give pea soup or water from boiled turnips. Christofer differentiated coughs by sound. If the cough was indistinct and didn’t lend itself to definition, Christofer pressed his ear to the patient’s chest and listened to his breathing for a long time.
People came for wart removal. Christofer ordered them to apply ground onion with salt to the warts. Or rub them with sparrow droppings mashed with saliva. He thought ground cornflower seeds, which were to be sprinkled on the warts, was the best method for treatment, though. The cornflower seeds drew the root from the warts so they would never grow on that place again.
Christofer also helped with bedroom matters. He immediately identified visitors with these concerns based on how they entered and hesitated at the door. Their tragic and guilty gaze amused Christofer but he did not let that show. Without ceremony, he called upon them to remove their pants, and the guests silently complied. Sometimes he sent them to wash in the next room, recommending they pay particular attention to the foreskin. He was convinced the rules of personal hygiene should be upheld, even in the Middle Ages. He listened, irritated, to the unsteady flow of water from the dipper into the wooden tub.
What wilt thou saye of this, then, he wrote on a piece of birch bark in a fit of temper. And how can it be that women let men like this near them? What a nightmare!
If the secretive member had no obvious damage, Christofer inquired about the problem in detail. They knew he was discrete so were not afraid to tell him. If there was no erection, Christofer suggested supplementing meals with expensive anise and almond or an inexpensive mint syrup; all increase the seed and promote bedroom thoughts. The same effect was attributed to the plant with the unusual name of livelong, as well as to simple wheat. Finally, there was also hare’s ear, which had two roots, white and black. An erection would arise from using white but vanish with black. The drawback to this method was that the white root had to be held in the mouth at the crucial moment. Not everyone was willing to do that.
If all that did not increase the seed and promote bedroom thoughts, the herbalist moved from the plant world to the animal world. Those who had lost their potency were advised to eat cockerel kidneys or duck. In critical situations, Christofer gave orders to obtain fox balls, grind them in a mortar, and drink them with wine. For those not up to that task, he proposed eating ordinary hen’s eggs while alternately taking bites of onion and turnip.
Christofer did not exactly believe in herbs; more likely he believed God’s help would come, through any herb, for a specific matter. Just as that help comes through people. Both are but instruments. He did not ponder why each of the herbs he knew was associated with strictly defined qualities; he considered that question frivolous. Christofer understood Who had established that association, and that was all he needed to know.
Christofer’s help to his fellow man was not limited to medicine. He was convinced the mysterious effects of herbs spread through all aspects of human life. It was known to Christofer that the plant sow thistle, its roots as light as wax, brought success. He gave it to commercial traders so they would be received with honor and rise to great glory wherever they might go.
Only be not proude beyond means, Christofer warned them. For pryde is the root of all sinne.
He gave sow thistle only to those of whom he was absolutely certain.
More than anything, Christofer loved a red plant, known as the tsar’s eyes or round-leaved sundew, that was about the height of a needle. He always had it with him. He knew it was good to have some on his person when beginning any matter. Bring it to court, for example, so as not to be convicted. Or sit at a banquet with it and fear not the heretic lying in wait for anyone who lets his guard down.
Christofer did not like heretics. He recognized them using Adam’s head, also known as mandrake. When gathering this plant near marshes, he blessed himself with the sign of the cross and the words: have mercye upon me, O God. After that, Christofer gave the plant to a priest for sanctification, asking that it be laid on the altar and kept there for forty days. When he carried it after the forty days had elapsed, he was able to guess, unfailingly, who was a heretic or a demon, even in a crowd.
For jealous spouses, Christofer recommended duckweed, though not the duckweed that covers marshes but the dark blue plant that spreads on land. It should be placed at the head of the bed by the wife: when she falls asleep, she will tell everything about herself on her own. The good and the bad. There was another method, too, for compelling her to start talking: owl heart. It was supposed to be applied to a sleeping woman’s heart. Few people took that step, though: it was frightening.