The Apothecary’s Apprentice 07
The Apothecary's Apprentice
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She allowed herself to be escorted along the path, their footsteps stirring the sharp reek of leaf-mould and loam.
Close by, a blackbird fluted a liquid phrase of notes.
Beneath the twiggy blackthorn the first primroses were budding.
Jennet gave a little cry.
“Primmyroses! Grandmother uses them in a syrup. Tes a powerful tonic.
“Lady Honoria might benefit from some once she is over the cowpox. How does she?”
“Better by the day,” Anthony replied. “Still gripes over the itching and feeling out of sorts, but the rash is no worse. She wants you to visit again.”
“That will be up to my master, sir.” Jennet nodded.
“Enough of the ‘sir’. It makes me feel like one of my papa’s business associates! When we are alone together, you shall call me Anthony.”
She giggled.
“Anthony, then. Does Lady Honoria know you are here?”
“No, this is our secret. My sister has little interest in anything that does not have four legs and yaps or whinnies.
“She has a new mount. She is pining to try it out with a gallop on the heath.”
“Then she must be feeling more herself,” Jennet remarked.
They came out of the trees and took the path that wound through the open grassland, which was dotted with clumps of gorse, stretches of ling and dells of mixed herbage that went into cures, flavourings and scented oils.
To their left the townsfolk’s animals grazed – milch cows, goats, small flocks of sheep and gaggles of squabbling geese.
Jennet indicated a distant spinney.
“The herb gatherers pitch camp there. I hope they come soon. I want to tell Thomas about my apprenticeship.”
“He is your sweetheart?” Anthony asked.
She laughed.
“Oh, no! Thomas is a friend.”
“It’s a strange life they lead, always on the move,” Anthony commented. “No proper roof to shelter them.
“We hear them merrymaking on summer nights. I was passing there once and there was a dancer.
“She reminded me of the Romany maidens that come hawking their wares.”
“That would be Agnetta Tewke,” Jennet replied.
“Her folks head the company. Tes understood that Agnetta and Thomas will wed.”
Jennet paused and Anthony gave her a searching look.
“Methinks I detect a note of disquiet there,” he remarked in his lazy, good-natured voice.
She shrugged.
“Tes not for me to say. They abide by their own laws and customs, but I am not sure that Agnetta is right for Thomas.
“Wedlock is for life. I would not see him unhappily bound.”
A skylark broke suddenly from a clump of furze and soared, piping loudly, into the pearly sky.
“Look!” Jennet cried, distracted. “She will have a nest close by. She is warning us off.”
Anthony chuckled.
“Singing birds and healing plants. What a curious little mommet you are, Jennet Parry!”
He knew instantly that he had said the wrong thing.
She wrenched her arm from his and rounded on him indignantly.
“You would belittle me, Anthony Venables? Female I might be, but fool I am not!
“To my mind, if more people took notice of what was around them, the world would be a better place!”
“Happen you are right. Forgive me, mistress. It was not my intention to offend.”
He offered his arm again.
“Shall we turn back? I promised Honoria I would read to her for an hour. It relieves the tedium of lying abed.”
He was gratified when Jennet took his arm and accompanied him back to the elm copse where, he now observed, buds were fat on the bough.
It was as if the small figure beside him had opened his eyes to what had been taken for granted before.
To be continued…
