The Herb of Grace (2 page)

Since Emilia and Luka did not know the answer to this, they kept quiet. Martha sighed and turned stiffly to swing a half-empty pot of soup above the fire. ‘You, lads, make yourself useful and get me some wood and some water,' she said over her shoulder. ‘Out in the yard. Take the lantern so you can see your way.'

Glancing at each other ruefully, the two children did as they were told, coats draped back over their shoulders and caps pulled low over their
faces to keep out the rain. Rollo looked up as they went out, but did not get up, laying his head down on his paws again and sighing in contentment.

‘Dogs have it good,' Luka said. ‘I wish I was a dog.'

‘I wish I was at home in my own caravan, all nice and warm under the quilt, with Baba telling us a story,' Emilia said, a catch in her voice.

Luka twisted his mouth. He wanted to be home too. He missed his mother and father terribly. ‘It won't be long,' he said doggedly. ‘We'll soon have them out of there, don't you worry.'

Emilia nodded and ran out into the rain, looking for the woodpile. Luka followed more slowly, bowing his head against the cold slant of rain. Although he spoke bravely, there was a sharp pain under his ribs. Rescuing their families was an impossible task, like those given heroes in fairy stories. He and Emilia were not heroes. They were just normal everyday children. They should
not have to face the prospect of losing everyone they loved in the world, just because of some law that did not even make sense. Why shouldn't they sing if they wanted to? What did it matter if they wanted to travel the roads as they liked, seeing a new view from their window every time they woke? Who were they hurting?

Emilia drew great comfort from the old tale their Baba had told them, and was sure all they needed to do was restore the broken chain of charms, and all would be well again. Luka had no such faith. He believed only in the strength of his body and the quickness of his wits. Until recently, this had been enough. But now, when he was so cold and tired and heartsick, they seemed frail defences against a world that had grown suddenly cruel.

Wearily, squinting against the rain, Luka hauled up two buckets full of water from the well and turned back towards the house. Warm orange
light streamed from the half-open door. As he staggered in out of the wet night, Martha was there to take the buckets gratefully, clucking her tongue at how chilled his skin was, and drawing him close to the fire. The smell of hot soup filled his nostrils.

New courage rose in him. One step at a time, Luka told himself. At least tonight they had shelter from the rain and some hot food to fill their empty bellies. Tomorrow he and Emilia would set off on their journey again, seeking help wherever they could get it. Already they had two of the lucky charms, and a promise of help. They had not done so badly so far, and who knew what the morning would bring?

‘L
ook, you're shivering, you poor things!' Martha said. ‘Strip off your wet clothes, there's good lads, and wrap these blankets round you. I've warmed them by the fire for you.'

As Luka and Emilia gladly obeyed, Martha threw fuel on the fire and set a pot of water to boil. Then she turned and surveyed the muddy pile of clothing on the floor with both hands on her hips. Wrinkling up her nose with distaste, she picked them up with the end of her broomstick and flung them on the fire.

Luka and Emilia exclaimed in horror.

‘They were naught but rags anyway,' Martha said, ‘and full of lice.'

‘They were not,' Emilia protested. ‘That coat was practically new.'

‘Well it's obviously had a hard life,' Martha replied dryly.

Since Emilia had galloped through a forest, scrambled through hedges, climbed a tree, hidden out in a filthy, spider-infested old church, and plodded over muddy fields in the two days since she had got the coat, she thought there was perhaps some truth to this.

‘Don't worry, I'll get you some old clothes of my lord's,' Martha said. ‘I won't send you out into the world naked.'

As she spoke, she dragged out a big round tin bath and poured hot water in it, mingling it with cold until it was at a comfortable temperature. Emilia and Luka looked at it in surprise.

‘All right, who wants to go first?' she said. ‘I'm not tucking you up in a bed until you're clean.'

Emilia stared at her, then at the bath, in utter bemusement.

Martha had got out a long-handled scrubbing brush and a big hunk of brownish soap. ‘Come on, in you hop.'

‘You want me to get in there?'

‘Indeed I do. By the looks of you, you'll be crawling with lice, and probably fleas too.'

The Rom did not believe in bathing in still water. Only running water would wash away all the dirt, and leave their bodies clean and pure. Emilia had been brought up with very strict rules about where and when she could wash – never where food was to be prepared, or where animals were watered, or where the men of the family washed. So she stared at Martha in deep consternation, and shook her head vehemently.

Martha was adamant, however. ‘No bath, no soup.'

Emilia scowled, and hunched the blanket closer about her.

‘Suit yourself,' Martha said, and swung the soup pot off the fire.

Emilia was so hungry she felt quite sick. Still she hesitated, looking from the bath to Martha's stubborn old face, to the soup pot, steaming fragrantly into the air. At last her hunger won out.

With a warning glance at Luka to look away, Emilia waddled over to the bath and climbed in. As she began to reluctantly lower herself down, the end of the blanket slopped into the water.

‘No need to be shy around me, boy, I've nursed plenty of laddies in my time,' Martha said and whisked the blanket away. Emilia flushed crimson and sat down, plop, in the bath, her knees to her chin.

For the third time that night, Martha screeched
out loud. ‘Heavens above, you're a girl!' she cried. Then she pointed her ladle at Luka. ‘Cover your eyes, boy!'

‘But I can't see anything anyway,' Luka protested.

‘I don't care,' Martha said grimly. ‘Boys and girls should not be in the same room while bathing. I'd banish you out to the yard if it was not such a miserable night. So you keep your eyes covered, my boy, until I tell you otherwise.'

Grinning, Luka did as he was told. Zizi, who always copied everything her master did, also placed her paws over her eyes, though she peeked out cheekily between her fingers, watching as Martha proceeded to scrub Emilia until her skin was red and steaming. Bucket after bucket of soapy water was poured over her head, and Martha jerked a comb through her hair, dragging out handfuls of knots, leaves, twigs and any number of tiny wriggling bugs. All the time Emilia
squealed, shrieked, sobbed and begged for mercy, and Luka grinned behind his hands.

His grin faded, though, when Martha seized him by the ear and led him inexorably to the bath too. Luka utterly refused to bathe in the same water as Emilia, and would only submit once Martha, grumbling, emptied and refilled the bath. Even then he looked very sulky and cross. Only the sight of Emilia hungrily drinking down a bowl of soup persuaded him to climb into the bath.

Emilia, looking quite angelic in a long white nightgown, just laughed at him.

‘You keep your eyes on your bowl, girlie,' Martha ordered. ‘Else I'll send you out to wait in the corridor.'

‘Aye, ma'am,' Emilia said meekly and ate up her soup, being careful not to look towards the bath, where a lot of splashing and yelling was going on.

Martha was being as ruthless with Luka as she had been with Emilia, and the room rang with his
roars. Zizi was most distressed at the noise, and seized Martha's braid, yanking on it viciously as she jumped up and down, gibbering with rage.

‘Ow! Let me go, you evil imp!' Martha cried. ‘Boy! Call off your monkey.'

‘She's just protecting me,' Luka said. ‘She thinks you're hurting me on purpose.'

Martha shook her scrubbing brush. ‘I will hurt you on purpose if you don't call her off. Ow! She just pinched me!'

‘Ssssh, Zizi, no!' Luka said. ‘No hitting, no biting.'

‘She bites?' Martha shrank back.

‘Only if she thinks I'm being tortured,' Luka said. He put out a dripping-wet hand and petted Zizi, who leapt away, not wanting to get wet.

Martha yanked a comb through Luka's unruly curls. ‘Look at this,' the old woman muttered. ‘When was the last time you combed your hair, boy?'

He shrugged.

‘Somehow I'm not surprised,' she said. ‘So what are your names? I can't go on calling you “boy” and “girl”.'

‘I'm Luka,' he said, ‘and my cousin's Emilia.'

She frowned. ‘Not very godly names.'

The children hid grins. They thought
gorgio
names very boring, since just about every boy was called Henry or James or Thomas, and every girl Anne or Mary or Jane or Martha. Luka and Emilia liked their names. They had meaning. ‘Emilia' meant ‘charming or flattering one', an excellent name for a wheedler, while ‘Luka' meant ‘bringer of light and knowledge', which he thought most appropriate.

Zizi had scampered back to the bath, never liking to be far from Luka, and was now perched on the side, slapping at the water and sending suds cascading everywhere.

‘Will you get away, you varmint,' Martha muttered. ‘A monkey, in my kitchen!'

She bent and put the soap down in a dish on the floor, and Zizi caught it up and took a bite out of it, thinking it was some kind of strange fruit. At once she screeched in rage and dropped the soap, which slithered across the sudsy floor. The little monkey went leaping all round the room, spitting and spluttering and making rude noises.

Luka tried to get up to comfort her, but was firmly pushed back down into the bath by Martha, who had no intention of letting him escape her scrubbing brush until every single louse and flea was well and truly drowned. At last she let Luka out, and began emptying out the filthy water, bucket by bucket. Luka hurriedly dried himself, dragged on a nightgown over his damp, rumpled curls, and went to Zizi, crooning to her. She leapt down and snuggled into his arms, answering volubly.

Martha emptied out the last of the water into her bucket, sloshing some across the floor so it
splashed Rollo. The big dog got up, turned round and round, lay down again closer to the fire, and yawned widely, showing sharp teeth. As he laid his head on his paws again, Martha said tartly, ‘Don't get too comfortable, dog, you're next!'

For the next few minutes there was a great deal of splashing and whining and wriggling, but Martha held the big dog firm until the water in the bath was the colour of mud. Only then was Rollo allowed to leap out of the tub and shake himself vigorously, spraying water everywhere.

It was at that very moment that the door swung open, and the sallow-faced young woman came in, looking furious. ‘What on earth is all this commotion?' she demanded. ‘How am I meant to work with all this noise?'

Martha went to her at once. ‘I am sorry, Lady Anne, but the children were wet and cold and filthy, and teeming with lice as well. I couldn't put them to bed like that!'

‘They've been yelling the house down, it sounds like the Tower Zoo in here!' Lady Anne said crossly.

Luka surreptitiously dropped his napkin over Zizi who was curled up on his lap. She lifted the edge of the napkin and peeped out, but did not chatter or jump out, to his relief.

‘What is that dog doing in here?' Lady Anne went on. ‘It should be out in the yard. It'll spread fleas all through the house!'

‘I didn't want it to howl and disturb you,' Martha said. ‘Come, my lady. You should not be sitting up so late anyway. I've put a nice hot brick in your bed, why don't you go and try to get some rest?'

‘I might as well, I can't afford the cost of the candles anyway,' Lady Anne said ungraciously, and allowed Martha to usher her out.

Emilia and Luka busied themselves eating their soup, and by the time their bowls were wiped
clean with the last scraps of bread, Martha was back.

‘That was so good. Thank you!' Emilia said, pushing her bowl away.

Martha looked rather surprised. ‘You must've been hungry to find that dishwater palatable,' she said. ‘It's not much more than water and potatoes and a few herbs. Not even a chicken to make stock!'

‘We were very hungry,' Luka said.

‘But why? Where are your parents?' Martha asked.

The children hesitated, then Emilia said sadly, ‘Dead.'

‘Oh, you poor things. Have you no other relations to look after you?'

Luka said, ‘We're travelling to find them.' Which was more true than untrue.

‘Do you know where they are?' Martha said.

Again the children hesitated, then Luka answered, ‘We think so. We hope so, anyway.'

Martha shook her head. ‘Oh, these are dreadful times. Dreadful! Well, at least you're warm and dry now, with a roof over your heads tonight.' She looked at the sudsy floor and sighed. ‘Though it's wetter in here now than it is outside.'

‘But a lot warmer.' Emilia gave her a winning smile.

‘And what a mess! It'll take me half the night to clean it up.' She sounded weary and sad, and Emilia was sorry they had caused her so much trouble.

‘We can help,' she said.

‘Very well,' Martha said, smiling a little. ‘I must say, you're nice children, even if you have the worst table manners I've ever seen. Here, Luka, you mop up the floor for me, and then I'll wash it down with rue water, just in case any fleas survived.'

As Martha spoke she got down a jar of greenish liquid from the dresser, and unscrewed the lid. It smelt horrible.

‘What is it?' Emilia said, wrinkling her nose as she cleared their plates from the table. ‘Did you say rue?'

‘Aye, I did. Best remedy I know for fleas and lice. I would've bathed you in it if it wasn't for the smell.'

Emilia looked at the jar with intense curiosity. ‘I've never heard of rue before.'

‘Never heard of rue? Why, it's one of the most useful herbs in any garden. You can't plant it near the cooking herbs, it taints them, but throw a few seeds on a bit of old, rubbishy ground, and you'll have a nice bush of it growing soon. It's good for the hens to eat, and my father used to feed it to his cows as well.'

Luka had finished mopping up all the water, and so Martha poured a small amount of the rue water into her bucket and began to lower herself stiffly to the floor, a cloth in her hand.

‘Here, I'll do it,' Emilia cried, and got down on her hands and knees, wiping the rue water over the
floor. The smell was enough to make her eyes water.

‘Make sure you slosh it into all the corners,' Martha instructed, and pushed her fists into the small of her spine, arching backwards. ‘I don't want any fleas in here!'

‘All right. Tell me more about the rue. What else does it do?'

‘They used to sprinkle rue water before the High Mass on Sundays,' Martha said, ‘because it's meant to repel devils and witches. Popish nonsense! But they call it the herb of repentance because of that, or sometimes the herb of grace.'

‘Aye,' Emilia murmured, remembering her grandmother's words.

‘We always used to make up a bunch of rue for the judges when they came round for the assizes,' Martha went on, smiling a little at the memory. ‘No doubt it was useful for protecting them from
the gaol-fever, but my mother always thought it would help them be merciful.'

Emilia at once imagined herself picking a bunch of rue for the magistrates in Kingston-Upon-Thames, and said excitedly, ‘What does it look like? Is it pretty?'

‘Not really,' Martha said, taking up a dishcloth and wiping the dishes that Luka was washing. ‘It's a sort of grey-green colour, and gets tiny little yellow flowers in summer. It smells awful.'