Page 54 of The Daughters of Avalon
“Thank you,” Malcom said, bowing. He started in the direction of the hatchery.
“Oh, but wait!” said the chaplain, waving after him. He sounded hard of breath now, after only a few steps. “If it may be of any help, and you mean to search the surrounding area as well, you will find the Rhiw Pyscod well enough traveled,” he said quickly, cutting his hand in a straight line, as though to forbid it. “I’d not bother with that route.”
“Thank you,” Malcom said, and continued on his way.
“Bless you, son!” exclaimed the chaplain, following part way down the trail, his pristine white silk robe dragging the black dirt behind him. He called out again. “Oh, and when you are done, please, please, be certain to thank His Grace for seeing to the needs of the humblest of his servants.”
A rueful smile turned one corner of Malcom’s lips. “Don’t worry; I shall,” he said, and with that, Malcom took off down the path, leaving Ersinius to peer after him.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Trying not to think about Malcom—or Rhiannon, for that matter—Elspeth spent the entire afternoon in the garden with Lady Dominique and Alyss.
Out here, with the sun shining so brightly, it was easier to ignore the dark aura looming overhead. And nevertheless, it wasn’t quite so easy to keep her mind off her sisters, since this was how she and her siblings had spent so much of their day—cultivating plants, harvesting, sharing knowledge and experimenting. Even when they had not dared to practice the Craft, they had reveled in their garden.
Alas, having been allotted so little space, Amdel’s garden was not so well stocked as their own. In this one thing, Ersinius had been generous—but of course, he’d benefited greatly from their toil. And nevertheless, Alyss appeared to be quite a skilled simpler.
Using herbs one at a time was the very best way to ascertain what a plant’s optimum use was, and it was only after learning the basics that one might consider how best to combine them. But apothecarymagikwas not to be practiced lightly. Betimes it could be confusing, and even risky. There were quite a few dangerous plants, including witch’s berry or deadly nightshade.But deadly nightshade was not at all the same as black nightshade, which was edible, so long as it wasn’t raised in certain soil conditions. Deadly nightshade, on the other hand, was so powerfully perilous that it could cause madness even by simply touching it. This was the primary reason to keep agrimoire,and theirs at the priory had been fashioned from scraps of undyed wool and bound with simple thread. Every time they’d added a new page, they’d anchored it to the previous page and eventually meant to bind it.
Of course, the minute Alyss learned that Elspeth knew her way about a garden, she entreated upon Elspeth to teach her everything she knew. Now, Elspeth poked around the soil, with Alyss hanging over her shoulder, and if perchance the maid seemed reticent before, she blossomed here, like a beautiful flower beguiled by the sun.
“See this,” Elspeth prompted, pointing to a bed of sprouts.
“Lady’s bedstraw?”
“Aye,” said Elspeth, nodding. “The roots will make a lovely dye—red, though not so rich as your scarlet. ’Tis much too small to pull right now, or I would show you the roots.” She looked up at Alyss. “It seems as though you’ve recently harvested these, so give them a chance to proliferate—and, then, when you harvest them next time, examine the roots. You will see they are quite dark. I have seen many tints made from these, including one very, very close to the color of a daylily.”
“Oh!” said Dominique. “Wemusttry that! We pulled them recently to fill the guest-room mattress, and I would say ’tis a very good thing, considering your glad occasion. Does the bed sleep well?” she asked, smiling, perhaps much as her own sisters might have done were they fishing for information.
But, of course, Elspeth had nothing to disclose.
She had no proper knowledge of the marriage bed—none at all. And even if she did have some inkling, it would not beappropriate to share with two young ladies. Over the course of their conversation, she’d learned both Alyss and Dominique were merely seventeen—a full seven years younger than Elspeth and two years younger than her sisters Arwyn and Rose. “The bed slept quite well,” she said, blushing. “The scent is lovely.” It was a cross between vanilla and freshly cut hay. But that was all she had to say, and she didn’t wish to linger on the topic, lest their conversation invite more inquiry.
“We were told that lady’s bedstraw repels fleas,” explained Dominique.
Elspeth pulled a few odd weeds that were in danger of strangling the sprouts. “It does,” she said, “and did you know… it was used by druids to line their graves near Glastonbury?”
Alyss giggled. “I wonder if they worried their dead would suffer fleas?”
“Perhaps,” said Elspeth, smiling, glad to hear the maid laughing. “And here’s another use: The milk helps to curdle cheese. We raised goats at—home—and often used it instead of rennet.”
“Truly?”
“What a marvelous herb,” said Dominique, clapping her hands. “We shall have to plant more.”
“Alas, be careful if you’re foraging,” advised Elspeth. “Do not mistake it for goosegrass, or you’ll never grow anything else in these beds. My sister used to use it to stop a blooded nose.” She made a face. “Don’t ask me how I know such a thing.”
“Goosegrass or Lady’s Bedstraw?”
Elspeth smiled. “Lady’s Bedstraw.”
Rhiannon had endured a phase as a toddler where she used to smack her head on door frames—not a happy memory for any of them. On top of her crossed eyes, she’d run about black and blue, looking like a walking bruise.
“And this,” she said, tugging on a sprig of meadowsweet.
“Mead wort?”
