“This all is so tidy.” Gracia gazed at the articles before her. “Different colored and shaped jars. Metal and wooden containers. All labeled, it seems.”
Dumping a pinch of a pale green powder into a mortar with the measured amount of the other herb, the nun began to grind and mix. “Sister Anne did not want us to accidentally use the wrong ingredient. A few items can be dangerous if used incorrectly, and many look the same to the untrained eye. Although she makes the majority of the remedies, she had trained a few of us to prepare the most common cures.”
“So she would let you mix a cure for an uneasy stomach?”
The nun stopped grinding and gave the maid a sharp look.
“I do not suggest that you or anyone else here mixed the wrong things together for Father Etienne’s clerk, Sister!” Gracia decided to trust the nun. After all, Sister Anne did, having found the young woman reliable and worthy of more advanced training. “I ask so I can better comprehend what might have happened and thus find a way to prove our sub-infirmarian’s innocence.”
Sister Oliva nodded, bent toward the maid, and whispered, “Do you know what Sister Anne believed to be the cause of the clerk’s illness?”
Gracia glanced around. She and the nun were alone. “A surfeit of ale,” she murmured.
With a grin, Sister Oliva gestured to the maid. “Come and I will show you.”
Gracia followed her to the other side of the hut.
“The remedy would consist of one of two preparations,” Sister Oliva said. “A drink of chamomile with ginger is often used to ease the symptoms as well as one of mixed yarrow and elderflower to balance the humors.” She pointed to a basket. “Here is the container of elderflowers, for instance.” She dropped her hand to a lower shelf and put a finger on a basket. “Here is the one filled with yarrow leaves.” Stepping back she gestured at the entire wall of shelving. “If one cannot read, one can learn the jar shape, color, and size. As for baskets, Sister Anne attached a colored cloth in the lid of each.”
Gracia studied the items. “It would be easy to memorize the position of each ingredient as well?”
“Yes, and she insisted that every item be put back immediately after use and in the space allotted for it. For those who could read, Sister Anne preferred to keep everything in alphabetic order. Other than the most needed remedies, and the simplest to make, only she and I made the cures. And lest you fear that a truly lethal item might be used accidentally, let me assure you that this was not possible. The toxic roots, seeds, leaves, and flowers are kept over here, well out of the way.”
The nun led Gracia to a large covered chest and raised the lid.
Gracia peered in. There was a strange smell coming from the chest. It made her uneasy. She drew back.
“You can see that a poison could not be sent by accident, even by one of us. We were not allowed to touch the dangerous ingredients, not even I, although Sister Anne had promised to train me in those skills.” Sister Oliva flushed with pride. In an older woman, this might be called a sin. In one of the nun’s youth, it was an innocent display of joy.
Gracia clapped her hands with pleasure. “How wonderful to be chosen by Sister Anne to learn from her!”
The nun bowed her head. “I am humbled by her confidence,” she said, “and have atoned for my conceit.”
“Surely it is no sin to be grateful that God gave you the ability to learn this astonishing craft, Sister. Since I have taken no vows, I shall be proud for you!”
Laughing, the nun kissed the girl on the cheek. “You are good to say so,” she said.
As the pair went back to the place where the nun had been working, Gracia considered what she should ask next. “Poor Sister Anne,” she said, “but surely her tale that someone was sent by the priest can be proven.”
Sister Oliva shook her head as she picked up the pestle and ground away at the toothache treatment. “None of us saw anyone. We have discussed it. It grieves us all that we cannot offer proof that she told the truth.”
Gracia gestured to the hospital. “None of the healthier patients witnessed a hooded man near the hut?”
“Most look only to God, my child. One pilgrim with a sprained ankle was questioned. He sleeps on a mat near the chapel. After he asked many questions to aid his memory, he still denied seeing anyone.”
“I was there when Sister Anne told Father Etienne that she would send the remedy with a lay brother who could give instructions. After we had left, she told Brother Thomas that the cure was a simple thing.” Gracia blinked with a suggestion of confusion.
“It is. And I was here soon after she was arrested. Nothing had been mislaid. Everything was put back on the shelf. All looks as it should.”
“I have heard a rumor that what killed the clerk was autumn crocus.” She pointed to the large chest. “I assume it would be in that?”
“It is a noxious thing. Most certainly it would be there.”
“Was it often used?”
The nun ran her finger through the mixture she had been grinding to check the consistency. “Rarely. Sister Anne was using it to treat our sub-prioress’ gout. A few courtiers come here with the complaint, and she has used it on some, but not all.” She laughed. “Courtiers do not always wish to remain out of the king’s sight long enough for that cure to work, and it is too dangerous for them to use without close observation.”
“Will you show it to me?” Gracia’s eyes sparkled with interest. “I am curious to see this extraordinary thing.”
They went back to the chest. Lifting the lid, the nun reached in, then hesitated. With a puzzled expression, she bent to look deeper into the chest. After a moment, she straightened with a frown. “It isn’t here.”
Gracia walked to her side and stared inside at the stored jars and boxes. “There are not many in there. It cannot have fallen into some hidden place.”
Now the nun’s face was pale. “It could not.” She rushed back and carefully looked at every item on the shelves. “I cannot find it!” Her voice rose in panic.
Looking around, Gracia knew that the room was too small for something to be easily hidden. All looked neat. It would be hard to lose a container, and the nun had checked to see if it had been placed in the wrong spot.
“Has anyone come here asking for autumn crocus?” Gracia asked.
“Sister Christina,” Sister Oliva said, her voice hoarse. “But all know she is close to God. She would never harm that clerk!”
“Why did she ask for it?”
“Sister Anne had given her a few, carefully measured packets for our sub-prioress. Sister Christina was the only one who could get her to take it. After Sister Anne was arrested, the infirmarian ran out of her supply and came back for more. I could not give her any because I am not trained in this treatment, nor could anyone else.” The nun glanced back at the chest. “And because there was nothing we could do to help our infirmarian without Sister Anne’s help, I did not even look for the item in the chest.”
Gracia had been in the priory long enough to know that Sister Christina was too saintly to bring harm to anyone. Sub-Prioress Ruth, although known for her dislike of Prioress Eleanor, might own a murderous tongue, but she would never poison someone. “Fear not,” she said to the nun. “You are not to blame for this missing item. It will be found. I am confident of it.”
Indeed, it had been found, or at least some of it, in the dead clerk’s room, but this was not information Gracia believed she had any right to divulge. She asked no more questions, and let Sister Oliva finish the preparation for the anchoress.
Taking the packet she had allegedly come for, she thanked the still-troubled nun, hurried out of the apothecary, and found the anchoress’ servant praying alone in the chapel.
As they left the hospital, Gracia tried to think how she could question Sub-Prioress Ruth about her supplies of the gout remedy without offending her. Perhaps Prioress Eleanor would think it was wiser for another to do that. If need be, Gracia knew she could talk to Sister Christina.