The Cole Trilogy: The Physician, Shaman, and Matters of Choice Read Free Page A

mother was dead.
    Nathanael Cole sat and wept, which frightened his children, who had not absorbed the reality that Mam was gone for good. They had never before seen their father cry, and they huddled together white-faced and watchful.
    The guild took care of everything.
    The wives came. None had been Agnes’ intimate, for her schooling had made her a suspect creature. But now the women forgave her former literacy and laid her out. Ever after, Rob hated the smell of rosemary. If times had been better the men would have come in the evening after their work, but many were unemployed and people showed up early. Hugh Tite, who was Anthony’s father and looked like him, came representing thecoffin-knockers, a standing committee that met to make caskets for members’ funerals.
    He patted Nathanael’s shoulder. “I’ve enough pieces of hard pine tucked away. Left over from the Bardwell Tavern job last year, you recall that nice wood? We shall do right by her.”
    Hugh was a semiskilled journeyman and Rob had heard his father speak scornfully of him for not knowing how to care for tools, but now Nathanael only nodded dully and turned toward the drink.
    The guild had provided plenty, for a funeral was the only occasion where drunkenness and gluttony were sanctioned. In addition to apple cider and barley ale there was sweet beer and a mixture called slip, made by mixing honey and water and allowing the solution to ferment for six weeks. They had the carpenter’s friend and solace, pigment; mulberry-flavored wine called morat; and a spiced mead known as metheglin. They came laden with braces of roasted quail and partridge, numerous baked and fried dishes of hare and venison, smoked herring, fresh-caught trout and plaice, and loaves of barley bread.
    The guild declared a contribution of tuppence for almsgiving in the name of Agnes Cole of blessed memory and provided pallholders who led the procession to the church, and diggers who prepared the grave. Inside St. Botolph’s a priest named Kempton absentmindedly intoned the Mass and consigned Mam to the arms of Jesus, and the guildsmen recited two psalters for her soul. She was buried in the churchyard in front of a little yew tree.
    When they returned to the house the funeral feast had been made hot and ready by the women, and people ate and drank for hours, released from poverty fare by the death of a neighbor. The Widow Hargreaves sat with the children and fed them tidbits, making a fuss. She clasped them into her deep, scented breasts where they wriggled and suffered. But when William became sick it was Rob who took him out behind the house and held his head while he strained and retched. Afterward, Della Hargreaves patted Willum’s head and said it was grief; but Rob knew she had fed the child richly of her own cooking and for the rest of the feasting he steered the children clear of her potted eel.
    Rob understood about death but nevertheless found himself waiting for Mam to come home. Something within him would not have been terribly surprised if she had opened the door and walked into the house, bearing provisions from the market or money from the embroidery exporter in Southwark.
    History lesson, Rob.
    What three Germanic tribes invaded Britain during the A.D. 400s and 500s?
    The Angles, the Jutes, and the Saxons, Mam.
    Where did they come from, my darling?
    Germania and Denmark. They conquered the Britons along the east coast and founded the kingdoms of Northumbria, Mercia, and East Anglia.
    What makes my son so clever?
    A clever mother?
    Ah! Here is a kiss from your clever mother. And another kiss because you have a clever father. You must never forget your clever father …
    To his great surprise, his father stayed. Nathanael seemed to want to talk to the children, but he could not. He spent most of his time repairing the thatch in the roof. A few weeks after the funeral, while the numbness was still wearing off and Rob was just beginning to understand how different his