17. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
E lijah gathered his supplies in a tote bag and snuck out of the house after dinner. It was dark, and cold, but it was the only time he had to himself. Besides, the moon hung fat and full and golden as an egg yolk a few inches above the horizon. A full moon like this was a good time for casting.
He'd told himself he wasn't gonna do this again, not after Jon had been suspicious about Priscilla's leg. But he couldn't help noticing that Joy, the horse, had a dark cloud around her large, equine heart. She moved slowly when they let the horses in and out of the pasture, and it wasn't arthritis. He'd seen her stand still in the stall next to the feeding trough, swaying a little and hanging her head, for hours at a time. He figured she felt dizzy and weak, and no wonder, given what he saw around her heart. She wasn't all that old either. Seven wasn't old for a horse. And she was a sweet, shy girl. She'd been rescued from an abusive owner, Samuel said. Nearly starved when they got her, her ribs sticking out, hip bones sharp as stones. That was likely the cause of the damage to her heart. If you don't get enough food, the body starts to eat itself.
The thing was, Elijah knew of a remedy that would ease her suffering. He'd ignored the urge for a week now, but it felt like a sin not to help her when he could. And she was so sweet. Yesterday, she'd rested her chin on his shoulder for a while and his heart had met hers and bonded to her.
He'd grabbed a flashlight from the utility cupboard in the hall, but the moon was bright enough that he didn't need it. He made his way past the pasture fence and into a section of woods. He wasn't sure if these woods were part of Pig Bottom Farm or a neighboring property, but there were no trespassing signs or fences, and no one around to challenge him. He picked his way past fallen branches and scrubby underbrush. A twig snapped behind him and he paused, looking around. He didn't see anything. Probably some critter.
He stood there for a long moment, his ears on high alert. There wasn't another sound, so he went on.
He reached the place he'd claimed as his own. There was an ancient tree stump here with a flat cut top that served well as a table. It was low to the ground, so he knelt beside it and carefully unpacked his tote bag, laying out items. A mortar and pestle, an old white T-shirt of Eddie's he'd gotten from the rag bag that now served as a wrap for a bundle of herbs he'd picked. Fresh would be better, but it was too dark to pick now, and he'd gathered these just a few days ago. A candle and matches. A little bottle of oil. His prayer book.
He opened the bundle and arranged the plants carefully, and then he lit the candle and said a prayer, swaying on his knees while holding an image of Joy in his mind. He opened his prayer book. It was a very old one, an heirloom handed down through his family line, and a book forbidden by many ordnungs, including his own. Dawdi said the Lord had the higher authority, and it was God who sanctioned his work. His grandfather had an uneasy truce with the bishops of their congregation. They turned a blind eye to his braucherei, and he tolerated their "ignorance" on this one matter.
Dawdi had given Elijah the prayer book on his sixteenth birthday. It contained many loose pages with new remedies added by Dawdi—and copied from his own prayer book—as well as copious notes from Elijah's great-grandfather on the incantations in the original book. If Dawdi had thought of it the night Elijah left, he would have demanded it back. But he didn't, and it was Elijah's most treasured possession.
He found the page he needed and read the prayers in German.
Palpitation and weakness of the heart, be off Joy's ribs, since Christ, our Lord, spoke truth with his lips.
Palpitation and weakness of the heart, be off Joy's ribs, since Christ, our Lord, spoke truth with his lips.
Palpitation and weakness of the heart, be off Joy's ribs, since Christ, our Lord, spoke truth with his lips.
Strengthen, shore up, and yield vitality to Joy's heart, upon the strength of the heart of Christ, our Lord.
Strengthen, shore up, and yield vitality to Joy's heart through this remedy and through your blessed power, upon the strength of the heart of Christ, our Lord.
He felt awkward praying when he thought of Dawdi's disapproval of him. But he was sincere, and surely God would know as much and know, too, this was for Joy's sake, not his own. He pictured Joy trotting in the pasture, healthy and happy. He let the compassion he had for her in his heart expand and grow like a hearth fire taking to the kindling. He placed the plants into the little bowl and ground them up with the pestle. He added a little oil and continued to mix until it became a smooth paste, all the while repeating his prayers and feeling the energy flow from his heart, down his arms, and into the mix.
When he was done, he felt lightheaded, and he slumped back onto his calves to rest a spell. He had put a lot of energy out, but that was not a bad thing. His weakness was a sign the remedy would be a good one, and it would take hold in the body.
A loud crack startled him, and he jerked his head up to look. He scanned the woods all around. Could it be a bear? They were not unknown in Lancaster County, though unlikely. A coyote? A fox? He saw nothing, but he was uneasy now.
He said another quick blessing and scrapped the mixture into a little plastic container he'd borrowed from Samuel's kitchen. He put everything in his tote bag and headed back to the house.