The Apothecary’s Apprentice 13
The Apothecary's Apprentice
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- 1. The Apothecary’s Apprentice 13
A short while later, Agnetta Tewke took the same path with a deep basket of newly gathered watercress in each hand.
Spotting a swathe of colour, she put down her baskets and picked up what appeared to be a headdress of costly silk.
It was pin-tucked to a perfect fit and Agnetta had a strong suspicion of whose head it had adorned.
She folded the trophy into her waist-pouch and, retrieving the watercress, continued on her way.
On arriving at the pitch, Agnetta saw Thomas in conversation with Jennet. Their heads were close and they were laughing.
Jealousy boiled up within Agnetta. Thomas was hers!
Hers, to dangle on a line till she could face the ties of betrothal and wedlock.
Her life was sweet, with her dancing and captive audiences. The flirtations that could never be taken seriously boosted her morale considerably.
Changing it for anything less did not appeal at all.
She walked on to the Tewkes’s green-painted wagon, on the steps of which her mother was stripping the leaves from dried sprigs of wild thyme.
Noticing her daughter’s expression, Cecily tutted.
“Pouts and frowns? Mercy on us, child! You’s asking for wrinkles afore your time. What calls for such displeasure?”
Agnetta shrugged.
“Nothing. I’s got the cress for the market stall. Will I bunch it up for you?”
“In a moment.” Cecily looked at her daughter. “Tes Thomas, ent it?”
Agnetta gave another shrug.
“Jennet Parry be here again. Them’s mortal easy together. Thomas ent nivver that way with me.”
“You doan give him much to be easy about. A man doan like a sulky face.”
“An’ a maid doan like being always told what’s what!” Agnetta’s soft West Country voice broadened as her feelings grew. “Thomas treats me like a child. Nivver a sweetheart.”
“You mun be more tolerant, Agnetta. Thomas, him’s deep thinking and means well.
“Forget these gripes and prepare the cress.
“By the time you are done, Jennet will be gone and you will have Thomas to yourself.”
Agnetta recalled the silken headdress in her pouch and, finding a small smile, she set to work.
Task done, she came across Thomas packing pouches of rubbed leaves and spices into his satchel.
“Be them for market?” she asked him.
“No. Goodwife Parry. She sent word that she had urgent need of it. Why so?”
“Just curious. Me, I thought the deliveries had all been made to the apothecaries an’ such.”
“Most have,” Thomas replied patiently. “This is no standard order. Some of it is on the goodwife’s list and duly recorded in the company’s account book.
“The rest comprises lesser-known varieties that I come across myself.”
“And the spices?”
“Bought with my own pocket on the harbour side at Plymouth. They were just off the boat. Ginger, cinnamon, orris root –”
“Tha’s a fixative,” Agnetta cut in.
“Aye.” Thomas’s hands stilled over the packages. “Goodwife Parry’s work is wide and varied. It has long been my habit to bring her anything I believe might be of use to her.
“Does that satisfy your curiosity?” he added.
“Surely. What else did her have to say?”
“Jennet? Oh, not a great deal. She had to get back to make labels for Henry Gryce. Apparently his penning is not the best.”
Thomas shook his head.
“The things I hear about that shop are beyond the wildest imagining.”
Agnetta gave him a sideways look.
“Reckon I knows something she ent told you, nor nivver will.”
“Oh?”
“Her’s seeing the mine owner’s lad. Them’s meeting regular in the wood. I’s seen em.”
Thomas snorted.
“Never! Jennet has the sense not to risk her future by unsuitable trysting.”
Agnetta pulled out the sea-green headdress.
“Tes true. Him gives her fancies. Her wore this when them met early on. I found it on the path. Her must have dropped it.”
“’Tis but a scrap of cloth from market. Anyone could have purchased it.”
“Tes silk. Feel it, Thomas. Mortal fine, ent it? She were wearing it when she met her sweetheart.
“Ask her. See what her comes out with. Sure as nines it woan be the truth!”
Stuffing the headdress back into her pouch, Agnetta sauntered off, leaving Thomas contemplative, Goodwife Parry’s order forgotten.
To be continued…
