As the Sparks Fly Upward (11 page)

As the pair walked farther, they saw a man beside the road filling a coarse sack with some type of weed.

“Hello, Egbert,” Teague said pleasantly. He knew the tall, thin man well, for he was a familiar figure in these parts. Egbert Thornton made a good living by collecting herbs and plants of all sorts and selling them to the pharmacists and physicians. “What have you been up to today?”

Egbert turned and grinned up at them, exposing a wide gap between his front teeth. The sun had freckled his face to the point where it looked as if he were speckled with orange paint. “Why, nothing unusual, Doctor.” He glanced at Colin and said, “Now, Mr. Winslow, you know a great many plants and herbs, I'll be bound you don't know these.”

Colin glanced at the weed and shrugged. “That is orach. Some people call it ‘stinking orach.' And stink it does, like old rotten fish. It grows on dunghills, and you will notice that it is a little bit early. It usually comes around in June or July. It's used as a universal medicine for any disease that ails a birthing mother; it cools the womb, for as you know the heat of the womb is one of the causes of hard labor. It can make barren women fruitful. And if you love health and ease, keep the juices made of this herb always by you.”

Teague laughed at the sour expression on the face of the herb collector as Colin rattled off the so-called healing properties of the herb. Phineas knew the information came right out of the bible of apothecaries,
Pharmacopoeia
. It never ceased to amaze the old man that Colin had practically memorized the massive volume. “There you are, Egbert. Let that be a lesson for you!”

Colin smiled. “It sounds impressive, but it's just a stinking weed, good for nothing, really.”

Egbert glared at Colin angrily, then wheeled and went back
to jerking the plants out of the ground and stuffing them in his leather bag.

Teague laughed at the man's anger and said, “Let's hurry on now, but I must give you a warning. You are going to get into trouble.”

“How is that, sir?”

“You must learn to be more careful of your words. Truth is wonderful, but it can be overused without discretion.”

Colin turned his eyes on Teague. “No, it can't. Truth is truth no matter how you say it.”

“Ha! Have you ever heard of Sir Thomas More? All he had to do was tell one little lie to Henry the Eighth, and he could have had not only his life but any title he wanted.”

“He was a great man, Dr. Teague.”

“And now he's a dead man! You want to know why? Because he told the truth and got his head lopped off as a reward.”

“Would you have lied?” Colin asked, puzzled.

“What a fool question, boy! Of course I would have lied! One little lie to save my life? More was a fool.”

“What would you have had him do?”

“I would have had him do what any logical man would do.”

“And what is that?”

“More could have lied to Henry, then gone into his room and shut the door. Then he could have confessed his sin to God.”

“That would not have been right!”

“It would have kept him alive. God would have forgiven him. Why, that's his business.”

Colin sighed, for he had become accustomed to Teague's philosophy. “Sometimes I think you're a scoundrel, Dr. Teague.”

“No, I do what I have to do to get by, and you need to learn to do the same.”

The two trudged on and when they reached the outskirts of London, Teague said abruptly, “You've made enemies, Colin. Some of them powerful men.”

“I've done nothing to hurt anyone.”

“You have done too well in your profession.”

Startled, Colin threw a quizzical glance at Teague. “How is that possible? A man should do the best he can at whatever he sets out to do.”

Teague did not answer, and his mind went back in time as he reviewed the swift progress Colin Winslow had made. He had fulfilled all the requirements to become an apothecary, and he had done it in little more than a year. Ordinarily an apprentice served his time under a licensed apothecary for six or seven years. Colin had simply waded through and memorized in one day what it usually took men a month to accomplish. He was, Teague thought, the ablest student he had ever encountered.
Once he sets his mind to do something, it's as if everything in the world ceases to exist.

Teague had attempted many times to warn Colin about success that comes too easily or too quickly, and now he tried again. “You don't understand human nature, Colin. Men don't like to be outdone by younger people. They like to be in what I call an
inner ring
.”

“An inner ring, sir?”

“Yes, once a man gets his qualifications as an apothecary, or even as a physician, he wants to make it more difficult for others to get to where he is. He doesn't want to share his triumph. That is the reason why there are so many barriers to overcome when becoming a physician or apothecary.” Teague saw the young man was deep in thought. “Don't you see, Colin? It's human nature for men to be jealous. I think your Bible says that, doesn't it?”

Colin shrugged. He knew the Bible well; in fact he had memorized much of it, but he was still only a nominal member of the church. He had often tried to defend his position, but Teague had apparently touched on a soft spot because Colin just grunted, “I don't know what you are talking about, Doctor.”

“Then I will make it so plain even an ignoramus can understand it! You are smarter than any of the apothecaries. Why, even now you know more than most of the physicians! It was easy for you. You did it too fast. Do you know how that makes them look?”

“No, I don't.”

“It makes them look stupid.”

“What would you have me do? Less than my best?”

“Learn how to look ignorant. I know your head is as stuffed full of facts as an egg is with meat, but that won't help you if you get cut off at the knees. Try to make them feel better, at least. I know that many are stupid, mean, and petty, but try to make them feel superior rather than inferior to you.”

“I will try, sir.”

The sun was low in the sky as the pair entered the city. Colin looked around and wrinkled his nose. “I don't see why a city has to stink. Why can't they take better care of it? This is awful.”

“Why, of course it is,” Teague said. “It is part of the curse.”

“The curse? What curse is that?” Colin was accustomed to Teague throwing out remarks like this. Many times they were connected with religion, although Teague professed to have none.

“Why, Adam and Eve had the only clean world, Colin. Didn't you know that?”

“Of course I do.”

“Well, they managed to get themselves thrown out of paradise and then started off fouling the earth in every way, and all their offspring did the same.”

“They certainly fouled up London,” Colin grunted. As always the street was full of garbage, for people threw it out the window, that and night soil as well. There had been some talk of creating a channel—a ditch, more or less—that would run through the center of the street and carry off the refuse. Hogs were rooting around, sniffing at the garbage.

“No wonder people are sick so often, living in all this filth,” Colin remarked.

“Well, if there had been a better way, I'm sure old Galen would have mentioned it.”

“Galen was wrong about many things.”

“Shush! Don't be saying such things, Colin! I have warned you before. You well know I have little respect for Galen, but the quickest way to get your head lopped off, professionally speaking, is to challenge the founders of medicine.”

“They were ignorant.”

“No matter; men today insist they are right because they were the first.”

Indeed this was the condition of medicine, and it irritated Colin greatly. Galen, the most prominent of physicians and one of the founders of medicine, had written a huge book. Colin had soaked himself in it, but he had not read far before he realized there were inconsistencies in Galen's work, as there were in the works of the other founders of medicine. But he quickly discovered that the writings of the founders were like the Bible to physicians. Their treatments were apparently handed down from heaven, because the ones who challenged the founders were called renegades and usually shunned.

They reached a large stone building, one of the three hospitals in London. When the two entered, Colin shook his head. “They don't even keep the hospital clean.”

Teague nodded but didn't comment. He shared Colin's opinion of some of the useless “cures” set forth by the early physicians.

They said nothing more as they made their way down the hallways. They often visited the hospital to do what they could for the patients. The great stone building was poorly lighted by high, dim windows. The hallway opened into long rooms with rows of beds. Colin noticed that two or three or more patients were put in the same bed with no regard for the diseases they
might have. Some of the patients did not have beds but lay on piles of straw—men, women, and even children. The place was indescribably dirty and overrun with vermin. Terrible odors of filth and disease destroyed any hope that patients might be cured.

They passed through an arched doorway, and Dr. Teague moved to stand beside a man lying on a wooden cot. “How are you today, Williams?”

The patient's eyes had been closed, but now they fluttered open. He was lying on a gray blanket, blood-soaked bandages around his legs. Colin did not need to touch the man's brow to see that he had a fever. Teague went through the motions, but it was obvious to both of them that the man was dying. His legs had been crushed when a large stone had fallen on him, and his will was the only thing that was keeping him alive. Phineas Teague said little, for the patient was only half-conscious.

After doing what little they could, Colin said bitterly, “This place itself is enough to make a well man sick!”

“It's all they have, though.”

Colin did not respond until they had turned the corner and headed down another corridor. “Someday I am going to have a hospital much better than this one.”

“You'd better hurry and get rich, then, because that would take a lot of money. Come now, and try to keep your mouth shut about such things.”

“Why should I?”

“Because this next patient is under the care of Doctor Regis Perry. He's one of the prominent physicians of London and more importantly, he's head of the Royal College of Physicians.” Teague spoke with a wry, sarcastic note in his voice. “You know the College of Physicians, don't you, boy? Ordained by God and manned by angels.”

Colin knew that Phineas Teague had carried on warfare with this organization for some time. He also was aware that in 1512,
just after the succession of Henry VIII, Parliament passed an act regulating the science and cunning of physics and surgery. Indeed, medicine had fallen to the depths, for most doctors were ignorant and illiterate. It was not until 1518 that Henry VIII himself overrode the act of Parliament and issued a charter that took power to regulate medicine in London, and gave it a new body, the Royal College of Physicians. This college could issue licenses to those who were considered learned and skilled enough to practice. They could impose fines on those who practiced without a license. The college was financed by these fines, and the word of the Royal College of Physicians was as unchangeable as the Ten Commandments.

As they stepped into the room, Colin's eyes went to Dr. Perry. He had seen him before, and for some reason the sight of the man disgusted him. Perry was short, stocky, and muscular. He had huge hands with thick fingers, and his head was perched on a short, stubby neck. He looked, in fact, like a butcher.

“Well, Teague, it's you,” Perry said with a thick, rasping voice. His hands were bloody, as was the apron he wore.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Teague said. “How is the patient?”

“I'm doing the best I can. She is not responding well.”

“What have you prescribed for her?”

“I have tried a cooling medicine, red lead. And along with yellow lead oxide, I have thrown in some carbonate, together with some zinc oxide.”

“Powerful medicine, indeed,” Teague said blandly and glanced at Colin with a warning look in his eyes. Colin said nothing, but he had to bite his tongue. He knew that doctors used such terrible so-called cures mixed with camphor, wax, and oil of roses. He watched as Dr. Perry rubbed the ointment into a cloth and placed it on the tumor on the woman's breast.
That won't help any more than a rotten apple.

Something in Colin's face must have shown his disgust and
disapproval, for Dr. Perry glared at him. “Do you have something to say, Winslow?”

“No, sir.” Colin managed to smooth his face and thought,
I'm becoming an excellent hypocrite! Might as well stab that poor woman in the heart with a dagger, for all the good he is doing.

“This is the treatment that Galen prescribed,” Perry snapped. “I've heard rumors that you do not believe in Galen, Mr. Winslow.”

Hating himself, Colin replied, “You are mistaken, sir. I believe that he was an innovator and the forerunner of all good physicians everywhere.”

“See that you hang on to that thought, Mr. Winslow!”

Teague seized Colin's arm and led him away. As soon as they were outside, Colin burst out, “What an idiot!”

“Of course he's an idiot! But he's president of the Royal College of Physicians! If you want to learn how to get ahead in your profession, you must learn to smile and to agree with people as needed.”

“I'm not sure I can do that, Dr. Teague.”

“You can do it, Colin. I've had my wars with them. But I still haven't been stripped of my license.”

“I am surprised at that also. How do you account for it?”

“Why, the Lord is looking after me.”