couldn’t get his breath.”
“And what happened?”
“His Holiness didn’t want to eat anything, he said that his stomach was closed and he only wanted a little wine but the servant, your cousin, said that he didn’t think it was a good idea as it would raise his fever, and the best thing would be to go back to Avignon to see his personal doctor. But the Pope refused. He actually jumped in the bed, you know, as if anger had pushed him, despite his weakness, and he shouted at your cousin that he had to reach Wilaudraut as soon as possible, that his doctor was a fool who hadn’t been able to cure him and that if he didn’t get to his house in Gascony, he would die very soon. Anyway, I was feeling very awkward, so I excused myself and left but I hadn’t even reached the corridor when your cousin came out looking for me and stopped me. He said that he knew it was impossible for there to be a doctor in Roquemaure but he wanted to know if it would be possible to find one in the nearby villages. ‘He doesn’t need to be good,’ he said, ‘just as long as he looks the part, that will be sufficient. I want somebody to calm His Holiness’ nerves with good words, someone to convince him that he is fine to continue his journey’.”
“Is that exactly what Henry said?”
“Yes, sire, those were his exact words. And you see, that’s where the problems began, because a few days beforehand two Arab doctors had come to my inn and requested lodgings for four or five nights. We don’t normally get Moors around here but it’s not uncommon for wealthy merchants, or even diplomats, to come through Roquemaure on their way to Spain or Italy, and they pay well, sire, with good ounces of gold. The doctors locked themselves in their room on the first day and only came out to eat or take a walk in the afternoon. One of my sons saw them one day spreading out their mats next to the river and kneeling down to pray as they do.”
“So you told my cousin that, coincidentally, there were two Muslim doctors in one of the rooms, and that if he wanted, you could speak to them and ask for their help.”
“It happened just as you say, sir. At first the Cardinal didn’t dare suggest to the Pope that he let two Moors examine him but given that there was no other solution, he asked him and the Pope agreed. It seems that Clement had already been cured on another occasion by an Arab doctor and was very satisfied with the results. So I knocked on their door and told them what was going on. They were willing to help and spoke for a long time with your cousin before entering the Holy Father’s room. I don’t know what they spoke about but your cousin must have given them many instructions because they nodded very politely. Then they went in, and I also entered to see whether they needed anything. I must add that the people downstairs didn’t know anything about this because even the young priest who was helping your cousin with the Pope had left the room to pray with the Cardinals for the health of His Holiness, and they were praying right here in this dining room while what I am telling you was happening. Well,” he continued, after taking a long swig of wine, “the doctors examined His Holiness very carefully. They looked at his eyes, mouth, they took his pulse and palpated his stomach and finally prescribed emerald powder dissolved in wine. They said that this potion would ease his stomach and lower his temperature in just a few minutes. It seemed to be a good remedy and the Pope was willing to grind down three beautiful emeralds he was carrying. He was convinced that it would cure him. The doctors asked me for a mortar and some wine, and ground the emeralds very carefully, slowly mixing them with the drink. They were beautiful, shiny, huge stones, with a transparent green color that mesmerized me. I know that precious stones have healing powers but it hurt my soul to see them disappear into the mouth of His Holiness, reduced to
“And what happened?”
“His Holiness didn’t want to eat anything, he said that his stomach was closed and he only wanted a little wine but the servant, your cousin, said that he didn’t think it was a good idea as it would raise his fever, and the best thing would be to go back to Avignon to see his personal doctor. But the Pope refused. He actually jumped in the bed, you know, as if anger had pushed him, despite his weakness, and he shouted at your cousin that he had to reach Wilaudraut as soon as possible, that his doctor was a fool who hadn’t been able to cure him and that if he didn’t get to his house in Gascony, he would die very soon. Anyway, I was feeling very awkward, so I excused myself and left but I hadn’t even reached the corridor when your cousin came out looking for me and stopped me. He said that he knew it was impossible for there to be a doctor in Roquemaure but he wanted to know if it would be possible to find one in the nearby villages. ‘He doesn’t need to be good,’ he said, ‘just as long as he looks the part, that will be sufficient. I want somebody to calm His Holiness’ nerves with good words, someone to convince him that he is fine to continue his journey’.”
“Is that exactly what Henry said?”
“Yes, sire, those were his exact words. And you see, that’s where the problems began, because a few days beforehand two Arab doctors had come to my inn and requested lodgings for four or five nights. We don’t normally get Moors around here but it’s not uncommon for wealthy merchants, or even diplomats, to come through Roquemaure on their way to Spain or Italy, and they pay well, sire, with good ounces of gold. The doctors locked themselves in their room on the first day and only came out to eat or take a walk in the afternoon. One of my sons saw them one day spreading out their mats next to the river and kneeling down to pray as they do.”
“So you told my cousin that, coincidentally, there were two Muslim doctors in one of the rooms, and that if he wanted, you could speak to them and ask for their help.”
“It happened just as you say, sir. At first the Cardinal didn’t dare suggest to the Pope that he let two Moors examine him but given that there was no other solution, he asked him and the Pope agreed. It seems that Clement had already been cured on another occasion by an Arab doctor and was very satisfied with the results. So I knocked on their door and told them what was going on. They were willing to help and spoke for a long time with your cousin before entering the Holy Father’s room. I don’t know what they spoke about but your cousin must have given them many instructions because they nodded very politely. Then they went in, and I also entered to see whether they needed anything. I must add that the people downstairs didn’t know anything about this because even the young priest who was helping your cousin with the Pope had left the room to pray with the Cardinals for the health of His Holiness, and they were praying right here in this dining room while what I am telling you was happening. Well,” he continued, after taking a long swig of wine, “the doctors examined His Holiness very carefully. They looked at his eyes, mouth, they took his pulse and palpated his stomach and finally prescribed emerald powder dissolved in wine. They said that this potion would ease his stomach and lower his temperature in just a few minutes. It seemed to be a good remedy and the Pope was willing to grind down three beautiful emeralds he was carrying. He was convinced that it would cure him. The doctors asked me for a mortar and some wine, and ground the emeralds very carefully, slowly mixing them with the drink. They were beautiful, shiny, huge stones, with a transparent green color that mesmerized me. I know that precious stones have healing powers but it hurt my soul to see them disappear into the mouth of His Holiness, reduced to
Similar Books
