Read Online At the Sign of the Sugared Plum by Mary Hooper - Free Book Online

prices. For the rich he will provide a cordial made from unicorn’s horns and honey, for the poor a decoction of clover and cat’s-foot. There is a great deal of money to be made from the plague.’
    ‘So is he a quack, then – your doctor?’ I asked wonderingly.
    Tom shook his head. ‘Of course not. What he prescribes he truly believes in.’
    ‘What then will you take against the plague?’
    He thought for some time. ‘The seeds and leaves of cornflowers taken in wine are said to be most effective for those born under my planet.’
    ‘And should I take the same?’
    ‘You’re a sun subject – so the doctor told me,’ he said, and I felt a moment’s pleasure at the knowledge that he had been talking about me. He thought for a moment, frowning. It caused a small line to appear between his eyes which I had a longing to smooth out with my finger. ‘The peony is a flower of the sun,’ he said at last, ‘though I have not studied enough to know . . .’ His face cleared, ‘but it is well known that chopped with rue it will promote pleasant dreams and take away fears, and this is all to the good.’
    I nodded. ‘And where shall I get these things?’
    ‘I shall steep the leaves and begin making you a decoction tomorrow, Hannah.’
    There it was again, his voice, saying my name in that soft way. I stopped walking, turned to him, and caught him staring at me. We smiled at each other and I felt a shiver run through me, moving down my spinelike a trickle of iced water. He said nothing, but he caught hold of my hand and held it to his face for a moment before letting it go. I felt that we both wanted to say or do something but, ignorant of what this thing should be, we just walked on.
    Chelsea was a pretty little village on the Thames, its thatched cottages, farms and uncrowded streets reminding me a little of Chertsey. A field fronted the river, a field thick with lush grass and bright with starry white daisies and golden marigolds. Tom led me through this pasture to the river edge where green rushes grew thickly, and tangled masses of reeds floated out like green hair. We took off our shoes and sat peaceably for some time with our feet in the water, watching the river craft go by and listening to the birdsong. I said there seemed to be more boats about and Tom told me that because of the fear of plague, many people had taken to the river, intending to live on barges and makeshift craft until the danger was over.
    Tom had a list of flowers and herbs which the doctor needed. These included angelica, cornflowers, wild garlic, scabious, chervil and sage, all of which he said would be used in plague remedies. Along the edges of the field and in certain places already known to Tom he collected these, snipping off the flower heads and putting them into muslin bags and then into his canvas holdall. Afterwards, he showed me where the patches of wild violets were, and helped me gather a large number to put in my trug. There were many borage flowers, too, which I knew Sarah wanted to candy. Tom took some of these as well, for he saidthat an infusion made from the flowers expelled melancholy. ‘The doctor always says that a merry heart does good like a medicine,’ he added.
    Setting off for home, we were light-hearted, but as we neared London an invisible pall seemed to gather over us and stifle our laughter. A stillness lay upon the city (Sunday being the day of atonement) as if it was waiting, hushed, for something to befall it. I shivered for I knew now that this thing was plague.
    As we reached the shop Tom moved near to me, took a lock of my hair and, looking into my eyes, curled a ringlet around his finger so that I had to move my face closer and closer to his. I was quite breathless, thinking he was about to kiss me, when suddenly there came down the quiet street the loud clattering of clogs on cobbles, and Tom and I sprang apart from each other. Two women appeared – but such women! Frightening old hags, clad in