Chapter Seven #2
“Who are ye, coming around and shouting like that?” she said angrily. “I’ll give ye nothing at all if ye do that again!”
The lack of Anaxandra’s social skills were on full display as she unslung the crossbow and pointed it right at the apothecary.
“I am from St. Margaret’s,” she said. “I’ll do anything I please to get what I need.
If you do not produce those items, I’ll simply take them, so it is your choice. Get them or die.”
“’Tis not that bad, love,” Estevan said soothingly, putting his hand on Anaxandra’s shoulder and pulling her back.
He had been so stunned at her aggressiveness that it had taken a moment for him to react.
When she looked at him, rage in her expression, he simply smiled at her and forced her to lower the crossbow.
“She’ll get them for us. Ye needn’t worry.
I know of yer concern for the ill, but the woman meant no harm. ”
He was trying to convey to the apothecary that Anaxandra acted as she had because she was very concerned for those who were with fever.
He hoped it would work, because the apothecary was a big woman, and loud, and he didn’t want to create a ruckus.
He simply wanted what he’d come for. His focus remained on Anaxandra as she finally began to lower the crossbow.
The apothecary also had her attention on Anaxandra, evidently in surprise, as she realized who the young woman was. Leggy and blonde and wearing clothing that suggested battle, she looked like a Valkyrie.
“Ye’re a Lady Templar?” the apothecary said. Then she grinned. “I’ve only seen yer lot once or twice, and I’ve lived here my entire life. Imagine—a Lady Templar in my stall!”
Anaxandra had no reply, but Estevan could see that she was tensing up for another round of shouting.
“They keep tae themselves,” he said, continuing his efforts to defuse the situation.
“Most religious orders do. Can ye provide me with the things for a fever? Mustard seed and willow bark, if ye have it. Our friend is quite ill.”
The woman was still grinning as she turned around and began rummaging through baskets on one of her tables.
Estevan was torn between watching her curiously and making sure Anaxandra didn’t try to kill the woman because she wasn’t moving fast enough.
He ended up holding the hand that was holding the crossbow, reasoning that she couldn’t raise it if he had hold of her.
Hopefully.
He knew from experience how good she was with that crossbow.
Oblivious to Estevan’s efforts to prevent a bloodbath, the apothecary continued to rummage through baskets before finding what she was looking for. She held up a bunch of something green, waving it around.
“Onion,” she said. “If yer knight has a fever and sickness in his chest, ye’ll want tae boil the onion until it’s very soft and then strain the water. Add honey and have him drink it.”
Before Estevan could reply, she returned to what she was doing, talking to herself as she went about finding what they needed. Since she was doing what had been asked of her, Estevan finally felt safe enough to take his hand off the crossbow.
“Return tae the door,” he told her quietly.
Anaxandra looked at him. “Why?”
“Because ye need tae guard me while I accomplish this.”
That was all he said, but it sounded logical to her, so she returned to her post by the entry door.
But that crossbow was at the ready.
After much rummaging and collecting what was needed, the apothecary finally returned to him with a dirty basket full of things. He peered at it, noticing that she’d put a small earthenware phial into the mix. He pointed to it.
“What is that?” he asked.
“A rotten brew,” she told him. “Have ye not heard of it?”
Estevan shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “What is it?”
The apothecary shrugged. “It’s brewed from old bread,” she said. “It can help fevers or wounds. Ye stir it with wine and drink it.”
Estevan nodded. “I’m grateful,” he said. He meant it. “How much for everything?”
The woman’s gaze moved from Estevan to Anaxandra, her back to them as she watched the street beyond the door. “Is she truly a Lady Templar?”
Estevan glanced at Anaxandra before replying. “What do ye think?” he said, grinning.
The woman laughed. “I think she wanted tae kill me,” she said. “The next time ye come back, dunna bring her.”
Estevan continued to grin. “Never mind that,” he said. “How much money for these things?”
The woman snorted. “A penny each,” she said. “Ye’ve got six things in the basket. Give me six pence and return the basket tae me.”
Digging in the purse on his belt, Estevan produced the required coinage and thanked the woman.
“Ye’ve been helpful,” he said. “Thank ye for the suggestion of the onion water.”
The apothecary slapped him affectionately on the arm again, nearly staggering him sideways. “Onion with honey,” she confirmed. “That will help him recover. Will ye tell me something, lad?”
“If I can.”
“Do ye have any brothers?”
Estevan chuckled. “Seven,” he said. “The two older ones are already married, but I’ll send the younger ones yer way.”
He was jesting, but she took him seriously. “Will ye?” she said. “Lad, that’s the grandest thing anyone has done for me. What’s yer name?”
“Estevan. And yers?”
“Lorna McKee.”
“Thanks tae ye, Lorna.”
He was heading for the door now with Lorna following. “If yer knight hasna recovered by the time ye return the basket tae me, I’ll give ye something else for him,” she said. “Is he married?”
“Nay.”
“Then send him my way, too.”
Estevan started laughing. They reached the door and Anaxandra turned to see them behind her, but Estevan pointed to the horses before she could speak.
He didn’t want her around Lorna longer than she had to be, fearful she’d try to lodge a bolt in the woman again.
Anaxandra obeyed, heading for her horse as Estevan moved to his.
“I promise I’ll send ye any man I can, Lorna,” he said, though he didn’t mean it. “Hopefully ye’ll find a husband one day.”
“What about ye?”
“What about me?”
“Are ye married?”
Estevan gestured in Anaxandra’s direction. “Dunna ask that question in front of her,” he whispered loudly. “Why do ye think she tried tae kill ye? She’s the jealous type.”
To her credit, Lorna seemed to accept that statement, bowing her head and casting Anaxandra a long side-eye to make sure the woman wasn’t about to strike because she was protecting her property.
Convinced that Lorna had finally gotten the message that he wasn’t interested in whatever romance she had in mind, Estevan put his foot in the stirrup to lift himself into the saddle.
But a big hand slapped him on the arse before he could make it.
He could hear Lorna laughing all the way back into her stall.