A New Leader Emerges

A New Leader Emerges

  The Prophecy #10

  By John Stevenson

  Copyright 2010 John Stevenson

  Malcome walked across the cobbles, avoiding traders setting up their ageing day stalls and reluctantly knocked on the door. No physician welcomed certifying deaths, and these past months there been so many. He envied the midwives; they attended the beginning of life’s journey, while he was always at its end. It seemed to leave a gloom over him that almost never left his shoulders. The door opened and Alice faced him: she said nothing as she stepped aside allowing him to wordlessly pass by. Bertram was in the main room; he too just silently nodded.

  “Shall I go?” Malcome said, expecting no answer and receiving none; it was purely to be respectful. As he opened the door a memory of hot days in the middle of the dry time swept into and out of his mind. Faint light that entered through a crack in the curtain, dimly lit the bed, and on it the humped sheet. He crossed the floor to the window and drew the heavy blind: sunlight flooded in, its rays crossing the room to illuminate the shroud and a vase of flowers on a small chest beside it. He welcomed the excuse to ignore the corpse; but the sight puzzled him. It was custom to place fresh flowers at the scene of a passing, yet these were withered. He knew women like Alice followed tradition, and was perplexed why she would leave something so obviously dead and shriveled, or the glass vase empty and dry?

  He pushed the thought from his mind; placing the small medical bag on the side table, then taking out the documents needed to certify death. Massive blood loss caused by a military weapon was not a natural cause, neither was it usual in his experience, but what he wrote would signify the manner of her death and he did not want the young girl to carry stigma in her passing. He wrote nothing, instead going through the motions law required by testing for life signs. He lifted the sheet from the young woman’s face as Alice came into the room. Distracted he looked up to see her carrying a large pitcher of water. It was customary that a dead body be washed, once life had officially ceased. He looked back down at the corpse and his body froze.

  Alice barely noticed his reaction as she respectfully glanced past him to the girls face; then she gasped and dropped the urn. It smashed on the floor with a loud crash. Moments later Bertram came rushing into the room. Woman and physician were staring at the body, both rigid in shock.

  He followed their frozen stare to see Harriet’s face was peaceful, not contorted in pain as could well have been expected after such a violent death, but what was even stranger was that her exposed flesh was enveloped in a pale green aura. As the shock eased, they disturbingly observed that it was rippling over her body, as gentle waves move over a calm ocean.

  “What’s… what is that?” Bertram said mystified, and more than a little fearfully.

  “I’m… not sure,” replied Malcome slowly. “It is like nothing I have ever seen… but…” He glanced quickly at Bertram. “When, when I was a child, my father’s father told me stories of his days tending the sick at court. He said of a green mist that he once saw… that halted the putrefaction. I… I thought it was the fantasy of an old man… but?” Pushing his fear aside Malcome moved closer to the body and looked at her face.

  “This is some sort of enchantment,” Alice said nervously as he moved the cloth further down the girl’s body.

  Malcome muttered something

  “What, what, I can’t hear you?” asked Bertram reluctantly coming closer to hear.

  “The flesh… it should be white… blue, gray, there should be no colour; and yet even her lips have a trace of pink.”

  “Nay,” said Alice. “The poor child’s blood drained away. That I… We saw with our own eyes, didn’t we Bertram?”

  “That may be,” said Malcome as he completely pulled off the covering from Harriet’s upper body and gasped afresh. Not only because her chest shimmered with the green glow, but also that her arm was cemented to the side of her body with a massive enveloping scab that covered her side from shoulder to elbow. He pulled the sheet right off her and saw other bulbous scabs covered all of both her hands. He looked at Bertram and Alice, shaking his head in disbelief. “This truly is like nothing I have ever seen?”

  Unenthusiastically he reached for her lower arm; between the scabs, and as his fingers touched her flesh the glow leapt onto his hands; racing up to above the first finger joint. “Uggg,” he said in revulsion, quickly releasing her arm before glancing at the others. They were looking expectantly at him, and it made him remember who he was; and the profession he practiced. They expected him to be calm so again he reached for her. Gingerly he touched her flesh, and again the glow raced up his fingers. Malcome steeled himself and held still as the glow slowed and stopped, almost as if it was confused. He felt his hand tingling and warm, whatever the thing was it felt comforting. Slowly it drew back and settled over Harriet’s skin. Malcome looked them both. “Somehow this is helping her… heal?” he said in awe.

  “Heal?” gasped Bertram. “…But she is dead?”

  Now assured Malcome gripped her about her upper wrist. A few hours ago he too had been convinced she was as good as dead, but now he could feel a pulse. It was only half what he would have expected, but her heart was beating, and strongly. He looked again at her face. He could not be certain but he was sure that colour was returning almost as they watched. Suddenly his mind was back in the academy, ‘observe and associate the symptoms’ the old professor had drilled into them. The tingling: the air: the flowers. Without fully knowing why, he moved to the bottom of the bed and looked across the floor. The pool of water from the bowl Alice had dropped was shrinking: its edges drying as he watched. He made an absurd connection, “Water, get more water,” he said urgently. “Some alchemy that we have no knowledge of is at work here… I do believe this green aura is taking moisture from the air and creating new blood.”

  Alice had barely returned when there was a soft but demanding knock on the front door. Bertram looked at her, and she at him; their minds brought abruptly back to reality. He almost welcomed a reason to leave the room and he went to the door. He opened it to be fronted by a woman he guessed was around forty years old. She was strikingly beautiful with sharp features framed by long dark hair. She stared at him as if trying to read his thoughts.

  “What can I do for you?” He said suspiciously.

  “It is what I can do for you. I have come to tend to the person who needs me in this house,” she said confidently.

  Friends of the rebellion knew there were many strangers about who were not to be trusted, and he wasn’t sure if the woman was one. “My sister and I live here alone. There is no one here who needs you,” he lied.

  At that moment Alice came up behind him. “What does she want?” She said equally suspiciously.

  “She says she’s come to tend to someone here,” muttered Bertram his eyebrow flicking rapidly in a barely concealed sign to Alice. “I said no person needs her help.”

  But the strange woman seemed unperturbed. “The person I wish to see needs urgent medical attention; the suspension medium will not be sufficient to continue life without my assistance.”

  Bertram gave a look that told the woman everything she needed to know. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “My name is Victoria, and I understand you have to be cautious,” she said brushing aside their concern. “I ask nothing other than you tell me where Harriet is: where is she?”

  They said nothing, but Alice’s glance was towards the stairway.

  “Thank you.” Victoria nodded as she moved towards them, almost pushing past before they stepped back.

  Belatedly Bertram call after her. “It is too late: the physician is with…. He can do nothing.”

  Victoria didn’t tu
rn. “That is because he is unaware of the treatment she needs.”

  Bertram locked the door and hurried behind, entering the room as Victoria was speaking to Malcome, who was looking at her in surprise. “…And you have provided enough water?”

  “I don’t know; or for what reason it was needed, but I think have.” He said almost apologetically. “Some… something… It just seemed the thing to do?”

  “It was exactly the thing to do.” Victoria said encouragingly.

  “Good. I’m…” Malcome seemed pleased that he had inadvertently made the right decision. He turned and smiled at Bertram then back at the woman. She had pulled a small vial from a pocket and was placing it at Harriet’s lips. Suddenly his smugness evaporated, and the doctor returned. “What are you doing?” he reached forward to stay her arm.

  Victoria turned towards him. “It contains a mixture of