Medice Ceres

Chapter 2

The sunlight that streamed through the open window penetrated his closed eyelids. Waithe blinked himself awake and turned away from the offending light. It was well past sunrise. A painful twinge as he stretched reminded him of his chest wounds and a pounding headache of his excessive drinking. He flopped back down on the bed as he groaned and tried to recall yesterday's events. That a Lady of the Order chose him as protector over many others younger and better qualified still confused him.

"Ah, you awaken. Slept well, I hope." Her kind smile warmed him. A simple green tunic dress modestly covered her willowy figure, a dress more for comfort and function rather than to display social standing.

"Best sleep in a long time, my Lady. What was in that tea you gave me last night?"

"Just chamomile tea, wonderful to help one relax. But I used Life Magic to enhance its properties. So how do you feel?"

Waithe grunted as he propped himself up on the soft bed, pulling the blanket down off his shoulders. His eyes surveyed the room, which included another bed, a wooden table with two chairs, and an exquisitely carved wood cabinet that held a pottery wash basin. Paintings adorned the walls. This was a luxurious inn room normally beyond his budget. He answered, "Like I lost a drunken bar fight last night."

"I believe you did. Why is it that men get drunk and fight in taverns?"

"Be there any other way, my lady?"

Ceres tilted her head. "Hmm, perhaps men should consider not getting drunk and not getting into fights?"

Waithe grinned. "That be far too simple, my Lady Ceres, it would never work."

Ceres returned his grin. "I suppose not. Oh, Waithe, since we will be working together, let us dispense with titles except in official functions. I am not much on formalities. Just call me by my name."

"Umm, very good. So what now... Ceres?"

"We need to get you well. Right now you could hardly protect a freshly baked pie from a little child."

"Well, my dear Ceres, a freshly baked pie would need protection from me."

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. "Speaking of food, the innkeeper's wife makes a splendid breakfast. That must be it now."

A short gray-haired woman wearing a big apron and a bigger smile, placed a tray on the small table. With a gracious bow, she retreated. The breakfast featured an assortment of local fruits, breads, and flapjacks. 

After eating their fill, Ceres pulled several woven pouches from a large leather saddle bag, inspecting each as she did. Portions from each were ground with a stone mortar and pestle and then wrapped in a piece of coarse weave cloth. She poured hot water into a pottery cup and dropped in the wadded cloth. Waithe watched the process intently.

He asked, "What kind of concoction do you prepare?"

"A special blend of medicinal herbs, just for you. It should help keep the Taint at bay for now. And I also added some willow bark to lessen your pain."

She pushed the cup across the small wooden table to him. He grasped it and took a sniff at the faint wisps of steam that rose above it.

Waithe wrinkled his nose. "The smell be horrid!"

"It tastes even worse. Try to keep it down."

A tentative sip brought a grimace. "By the Spirits, this tastes like shit!" He sighed and took a deep breath, then chugged the rest, all the while fighting back the urge to heave.

She grinned. "So how is it you know what shit tastes like?"

"Just an expression, my fair healer. Nobody really knows what shit tastes like, but likely something like that. Why can't a pint of ale be made medicinal?"