Note: Of Herbs & Remedies is a short story based on the fairy tale ‘Patient Griselda’.
It was a bright day. A happy day. The worst of the winter was over and now the forest was preparing itself to welcome the flourish of spring and new life. On the forest outskirts, was a small town bustling with life, its inhabitants preparing for the new harvest. Young Mirja was also preparing for spring. Though, as the town’s herbalist, she was preparing many remedies and elixirs for any future injuries and illnesses that might occur. Hard at work, the young girl failed to hear the sounds of someone entering her shop, only looking up at the timid greeting that came from Mrs. Tailfor, the elderly widow that lived a few streets down.
‘Oh good morning Mrs. Talfer! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!’ Mirja began rushing to pull down several tiny paper packages that she had stored away, ‘I have your doses right here – a few for that nasty cold you have, which you need to take twice a day, and then I added a soothing balm to help with your arthritis.’ She methodically labeled each package and tied them together with twine, before handing them over to the elderly woman with a smile.
‘Thank you dear, this will be a big help over the coming months’, Mrs. Talfer gave her an indulging look, paid her fee and left the shop happy. Mirja nodded to herself, content to have helped another customer, especially one as nice as Mrs. Talfer. Turning, she began wiping down the work bench, becoming lost in her thoughts, before hearing the shop door open again.
‘Oh, did you forget something Mrs. Ta-’
She broke off as she took in the male figure standing in the entryway. It was a soldier, obvious by the military style uniform he wore, and when he removed the gold plated helmet, his plethora of scars indicated the man had seen much battle in his lifetime. Mirja was silent for a moment as she observed the soldier then smiled, wiping her hands on her apron, she made her way around her workbench, hands lingering on the wood.
‘Good morning Sir, is there anything I can help you with?’ The soldier turned his head to look at her as she addressed him, expression bored.
‘You, girl’, the soldier spoke with authority, ‘you’re the Herbalist that resides here aren’t you? Fetch me your guardian, quickly now.’ Mirja’s smile tightened.
‘What business do you have with them, Sir?’
‘That is none of your concern, this is a matter between the King and your guardian only. Go and do as I ask.’
‘He is busy gathering more ingredients in the forest, and won’t be back until later. If you have come with the message, then surely you are also involved in the matter, therefore there should be no harm in telling me also.’
‘You are quite outspoken for a simple shop girl, that might end badly for you in the near future.’
‘I merely speak my mind, Sir, especially against unjust-’
‘What seems to be the trouble here?’ Both girl and soldier turn to see an elderly man come into the room, having entered through the back of the shop. He was dressed professionally, wearing dark toned clothing that covered most of his limbs, so as to prevent any stings or cuts, and he wore thick hide boots. The man’s hands were littered with many scars, an occupational hazard to day to day life, and his skin had darkened from too many days in the sun. Presently, the man set a large covered basket onto the shop’s workbench, and turned his attention to the two in question. ‘Mirja? Are you giving this young soldier trouble? I apologise Sir, my Mirja here is a spirited child, don’t mind too much on what she says.’
‘You are her guardian then, I presume?’ The soldier straightened up, shooting Mirja an annoyed glance.
‘Aye, that I am. My name is Atar. Now what brings a servant of the Prince to my doorstep?’
Mirja watched as the soldier wordlessly handed Atar a bound scroll, her confusion only growing upon catching a glimpse of the Royal crest marked on the seal, before Atar broke it to read its contents; her caretakers tanned face grew pale and his gaze flicked to hers. After murmuring a few words that she could not make out, he dismissed the soldier and walked him to the door, remaining there even when the officer was long gone. The room was silent, only the muffled sounds of the bustling crowds outside indicating a sense of normality; people getting on with their own lives, unaware and blissfully ignorant of any troubles that could occur.
‘Atar?’ Mirja took a step forward, idly playing with the frayed ends of her apron that she’d forgotten to remove, ‘Atar, what did the Prince want? What does that notice say to make you this unsettled?’ She watched as Atar stood by the door, refusing to look at her, before sighing and running a hand through his greying hair. His other hand tightened into a fist, crumpling the Prince’s scroll, and he stared down at it for a long moment. The girl frowned, turning and making her way into the back of the shop, through the private door and into their kitchen to make some tea. Tea is always needed in times of stress. As she stood at the stove preparing the brew, she heard heavy footsteps echo in the hallway and into the room, still, Mirja didn’t glance away from her work until she was done. Setting the brew and two of their best cups on a wooden board, she carried it over to the kitchen table where Atar now sat. Taking a seat, she poured both of them a cup, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip of her own in silence.
Waiting patiently, she observed the way the steam from her cup swirled and made unique shapes in the air to pass the time, only looking up when she heard a clearing of a throat.
‘I’m sorry that my actions just now have confused you dear girl. I only needed to process the news.’ Atar scratched his cheek, expression unhappy, reluctantly taking out the scroll and placing it on the table in front of her, smoothing out the creased edges. Mirja slowly leaned forward, taking in the words on the page with growing unease.
“To Master Atar, Court Herbalist and Advisor to the King.
I wish to mark, by this personal message, my appreciation of the service you have rendered to your King. As you know, I am calling on you in regards to our arrangement sixteen years prior, upon where I tasked you with the duty and honour of caring for the child until she becomes of age. I have been lenient in these recent years, conceding to your council as my trusted advisor, however, now I must be firm. An escort consisting of my personal guard will be at your residence by morning to accompany the girl to the Royal Wedding procession. You may go with her if you wish, nevertheless, your service is no longer required. I expect you to return to your post as my Court Herbalist after the Wedding is done. Your work has been of great value to the Palace Court.”
‘Wedding?’ Mirja whispered in disbelief, ‘what does he mean Atar? What arrangement?’ Her head started to feel light, and she was glad to already be sitting down, if she was understanding what the letter was practically demanding, then…
‘You are to marry, young Marja’, the heaviness in the man’s voice was too serious to be fabricated, ‘the Prince has…requested it be so.’
Mirja’s anxiety gave way to anger, ‘How can he just demand me to marry him? I don’t even know him! Just because he is a Prince, he believes he can just order us around?’
‘He is King now young one, he can do as he pleases.’
‘He threatened you!’
‘Nonetheless, we must obey his orders.’
‘This isn’t fair!’ Mirja practically wailed. She wanted to grab the letter and rip it into tiny pieces, take Atar and escape to the forest. The forest was familiar, it was safe. She knew all about the land, the plants, the smells, how to navigate the stars. They could do it. She wanted to do it. Frustrated tears pricked at her eyes, and she startled when a large warm hand enveloped her own delicate one. She threw Atar an unruly glare, but didn’t move away.
‘Let me explain Marja, you need to understand why this is happening. Sixteen years ago, the King-he was the Prince back then, gave you to me on your birth, told me to take you away, keep you hidden. I agreed because that was my duty to do so.’
Tears spilled from her eyes at these words. To hear that she was merely a duty to someone that she’s loved all her life…It was an emotional blow. Atar gave her a panicked look, grasping her hand tighter.
‘Don’t misunderstand me! I may have taken you out of a sense of duty, but I kept you with me because I consider you mine. I might not have fathered you, but I think of you as my own daughter. I care for you deeply.’
Marja sniffled, using her free hand to wipe away the tears that had tracked down her cheeks, ‘is the Palace where I come from then? Is this why you never told me about my parents? Did they work there?’
Her caretaker hesitated, ‘you do come from the Palace, yes.’ He heaved a sigh, steepling his fingers together, elbows resting on the table, ‘And you do…belong to the King’, at her incensed look, Atair shook his head, ‘I apologise for the phrasing, but it is true. We cannot afford to be soft about this. I had hoped for more time but…’ He trailed off.
‘Is that what the King meant then?’ Marja asked, ‘he’s come to you before now?’
‘Yes, I was supposed to return you to him on your thirteenth birthday. I refused. You were still so young, and only just beginning your apprenticeship as an apothecary. I suppose I was also selfish.’
She flashed him a sad look, the seriousness of her situation finally beginning to dawn on her, ‘but not selfish enough to keep fighting?’ Atar gave a pained chuckle, again shaking his head.
‘I cannot continue going against the King, my dear. I cannot risk it. We cannot risk it.’ He gave her a meaningful look. Marja understood, she had always been a spirited girl, as wild as the forest she so loved to spend her time in. She may be young, but she was no fool. It would not do to fight against this. What would be the point? It was only the two of them, against the King and his armies. Atar had been an excellent teacher, allowing her to grow, giving her room to find herself and her calling- out there in the woods, with the plants and rivers. But when it all came down to it, she knew as well as he did, that you couldn’t fight against your station. She would always be who she was.
‘I understand, it is my duty’, Marja took a breath, forced herself to be calm, ‘will you follow me? When I go tomorrow?’
‘Always my dear,’ Atar patted her clasped hand, ‘I will watch over you in the Palace. I will be forever sorry, that I couldn’t do more to protect you and your freedom.’
They both retired to bed sorrowful that night, their conversation and situation weighing heavily on them, Marja most of all, despite all her brave words. Her escort, as promised by the King, arrived early the next morning, and the journey to the Palace was one spent in silence. Marja was lost in deep thought. What could possibly happen now to change her life? She could only hope Atar would be able to stay by her side.
***
Mirja was troubled, and she gave a despondent sigh as she gazed out of the tiny window of the castle that she resided in. They had arrived at the Palace mid morning with no trouble, however, Atar had been whisked away as soon as they had arrived, and she had not seen him since. It was late afternoon now.
The young girl turned away from the window to a knock at her chamber door, which opened to reveal an elderly chambermaid, in her hands was a silver tray ladened with a variety of food, the old lady smiled as she shuffled over to the small table where the girl sat. Huffing as she set down the silver tray, the old woman straightened and gave the younger a curious glance ‘So you’re the one who the young Prince has chosen for his Bride? Well I can imagine the honour and pride you feel to be given the opportunity!’ She laughed. At the young girls silence, the chambermaid became curious. ‘What is it, my dear? You know I am here if you wish to talk?’
‘Oh thank you, but I wouldn’t want to be a bother’, Mirja glanced down at her clasped hands.
‘Nonsense child, what kind of person would I be if I didn’t help a young lady in need? Now tell me what’s bothering you dear?’
The young girl shuffled in her chair, uncomfortable, before taking a breath and confiding in the old woman. Of how she had been brought here against her will, from her home with Atar. About the scroll the soldier delivered and the details of her birth. How the she has never met the King and yet he still wants to marry her.
‘What do you think I should do? What is it like to be married?’
The old woman thought for a few moments. She pitied the girl, who seemed to be so young and afraid, having been taken from her home the way she was with hardly any warning. There was nothing she, an elderly chambermaid, could do however, and so the elderly woman simply patted the young girls hand, and answered as best as she could.
‘Marriage is a complicated matter, my dear. But you are lucky in that you were chosen by a King- you will be looked after and cared for in a way no other man would have been able to back in your village. All that is required from you is your loyalty, obedience and care. And, in time, to bear the Prince many sons. You will not be required to work, and will spend the rest of your days in comfort and luxury.’
Mirja was silent, inwardly despairing, as she so loved to work and to feel useful to her village, however, she merely smiled, clasped the old woman’s hand and thanked her for her advice.
‘What is your name? It would be nice to have another friend in the castle, if I am to live here.’
‘Oh it everything will be alright dear, I will be here to help you. My name is Griselda.’