Read Online Timewatch by Linda Grant - Free Book Online

broken leg swathed in bandages.
    The barber-surgeon, a portly man with greasy, thinning hair and displaying that air of authority that all medical men seemed to exude, was just finishing packing his bag of instruments and saying to Father, “I have splinted your guest’s leg and bandaged it. It should heal in six weeks or so. For relief of pain, I will leave some wintergreen. Tell your cook to brew a potion with it for your guest to drink.”
    Father thanked him for coming and escorted him out of the room. I was left alone with Jacob. I had not been shy the previous night about looking at his corpse-like figure—in those parts death was accepted with a certain phlegmatic stoicism—but I was not prepared to greet a gentleman only a few years my senior who, apart from a certain pallor, seemed none the worse for his misadventures.
    Up to that time, I had lived a rather secluded and uneventful existence. When school finished each day, it was still early enough to go roaming the hills with Susanna or, more rarely, play with one of my schoolmates. But my father did not encourage “mixing with the lower classes.” He was keenly aware of his position as a Morgan, a family who, in preceding generations, had elevated themselves to a position of some wealth and prestige. Now, however, we had fallen on hard times.
    Father had invested heavily in buying tulip stocks. When the stocks crashed in February in the year of our Lord 1637, my father lost a great deal of his fortune. He had little money left to keep the estate in good repair.
    This was the state of affairs when Jacob came into our midst. He smiled kindly at me and said, “You must be Master Jeremy. Your father has spoken of you with great pride.”
    My father? I thought he was scarcely aware of my existence. He spent most of his time reading in his library or out riding the one horse left in the stables, which had once housed a dozen.
    â€œYour father has kindly asked me to stay on here until my broken leg has mended. In return for his hospitality, I have offered my services as a tutor—such as they are—for I have not been so trained in this occupation, but have been well-educated in the things that gentlemen should know—so there will be no necessity for you to attend the village school, which your father thinks that you have outgrown. I hope this meets with your approval?”
    He was asking for my consent, although we both knew that it mattered not a whit now that Father had made his decision. I supposed that under Jacob’s supervision I would no longer have to work very hard at my studies. Although I did not know it then, my days as a heedless youth were over. Under the guidance of Jacob, I would be initiated into the mysteries of Greek, Latin, and other studies befitting the education of a young gentleman. Susanna, too, was allowed to partake in these studies and proved to be superior to me in her grasp of them.
    Around this time in Father’s library, I chanced upon a manuscript dealing with alchemical studies. I was dazzled by the prospect of learning from the manuscript how to turn base metals into gold. After much discussion, I persuaded Father to allow me to buy the flasks, stirring rods, a mortar and pestle, charcoal, and various other materials needful for conducting alchemical experiments.
    Jacob was loath to see me begin these experiments, warning that few—if any—had ever been successful in turning base metals into gold.
    â€œBut the great Paracelsus did agree that it was possible to make gold,” I argued.
    â€œBut of an inferior sort,” Jacob was quick to reply. “He tried through his experiments to discover cures for illnesses.”
    â€œIf I am not to repair my family’s fortunes by making gold, what is the use of alchemy?” I asked. “I have little interest in finding cures.”
    Jacob laughed and then turned serious. “What the true alchemist seeks is to