Busy In The Infirmary

[sofia]

(14:46:26)
Sofia
Guest of WS
is in the Infirmary, and says to ALL: ~At long last, the Moroccan woman had finally found a task she could do, something useful and good, yet not too demanding of time or hard labor. Now, her hands washed, a prayer spoken, and an apron tied on, she stands at the counter brushing medicinal roots clean of dirt and then chopping them into sections. At the moment it's dandelion root under her knife, the milky sap sticky pon blade and hand. It's no small task, an entire castle's supply of medicines for the year must be processed. To this end, bushel baskets line the counter, picked by children bribed with sweets during the past few days. There were things besides dandelion roots of course: Comfrey leaves to be dried and roots to chop to make wounds close or stop internal bleeding, plantain leaves to heal cuts and sores, and sundry other medicinals. All the while her busy hands work, a soft tune hums in her throat, the woman finally occupied and happy~

(15:03:00)
Sofia
Guest of WS
is in the Infirmary, and says to ALL: ~Every time her agile digits produce a large enough mound of inch-long sections as big around as her little finger, she scoops the pieces up and spreads them evenly pon broad, flat baskets to be dried near a gentle fire. The scents of earth and roots fill her nostrils, and her mind is far back through the years. In her mind's eye she can still see her aunt Kahina preparing the herbs in Grandfather's house. It was a task Sofia had been put to at an early age, as were all the young girls in the house, servants and daughters alike. Now she blesses her aunt for making her learn these things, a faint smile pon soft lips. Again and again she brushes, chops, and spreads the roots out, till the last piece is laid out for drying. Once the drying-baskets are stacked in neat criss-crossing towers, she again washes her hands, then takes a skein of the cheap wool yarn so common here and a small knife. Gathering a handfull of the massive dark-green comfrey leaves, agile digits bind the tough stems with the yarn, then cut the thread and tie a secure knot. One bundle down, several bushels to go. Again and again she repeats the process, laying and stacking the bundles in the same manner as ocrdwood, alternating layers lengthwise and width-wise. The leaves have coarse hairs, irritating ones that soon begin to leave almond skin a blooming bright pink. Still she continues, knowing this plant to be most valuable at making rent flesh bind and heal.~

(15:08:17)
Sofia
Guest of WS
is in the Infirmary, and says to ALL: ~Though the woman doesn't know every herb the healer had asked her to process, she knows very well the methods of preserving them....drying...syrups...wine infusions...the basic methods were still the same. Over to one side, the brilliant heads of the dandelions simmer slowly in strained honey, to be used later when winter colds set in with their attendant coughing. Near that, rows of jars and bottles washed immaculately clean are already filled with the golden-and-tan liquid, and only a few remain empty.~

(15:16:43)
Sofia
Guest of WS
is in the Infirmary, and says to ALL: ~Even as her mind wanders her agile hands never cease working at binding the comfrey leaves. Bundle after bundle after bundle receive the simple treatment until finally the last leaves are bound into one final group. With a sigh of relief she stacks these into baskets and hands them off to the healer, who is busy up on a ladder hanging her own bundles to be dried. Indeed most of the ceiling is thick with drying herbs now, green bundles hanging down like an inverted forest. Again washign ehr hands, the redness and irritation soothe away somewhat. Next she sets a large quantity of pristine white lard to melting at the hearth in one of the empty cauldrons resting there. It's plantain leaves going under her knife now, green juice staining everything it touches. Mound after mound of the little leaves get a coarse, quick chop then set in with the melting lard. Of course a quantity of the purple Iris roots go in as a preservative, otherwise the pointment would soon spoil and waste. By the time the lard is melted, it's already turning green from the plantain juices, a most excellent remedy for scrapes and sores. ~

(15:25:17)
Sofia
Guest of WS
is in the Infirmary, and says to ALL: ~Now that the bushel-baskets are processed, her attention turns back to the dandelion syrup. It's ready now, all golden and brown and so very fragrant. Firts she strains out the spent blossoms into a dish, then begins scooping the hot syrup into the jars. One by one they fill up, until the last droplets exactly fill the last bottle. Next agile hands stop each bottle off, then holding a lit candle of beeswax at an angle, each is given an airtight seal. Once this is done, it's a few minutes work to clean the kettle and replace it, then the bottles and jars are stacked in neat rown on the shelves. The two women exchange barely a word, each busy at her own thoughts and tasks, able to work in comfortable silence tho an occasional inquiry might pass between them~

(15:34:01)
Sofia
Guest of WS
is in the Infirmary, and says to ALL: ~By now the simple ointment is ready, so she strains out the plant bits as best she can, then begins ladling the green and fragrant liquid into small potbellied crocks of earthenware. Once full, all of these get covered over and tied shut, then placed pon theirr own shelves. Next she throws a handfull of strong ashes and a little steaming water into the pot, and begins scrubbing it out with a sturdy brush. The ashes contain lye, and mixed with the lard produce a primitive kind of soap. Soon all is clean, then she wipes off the counter and stacks the bushel-baskets in one corner after knocking them lightly clean outside~

[Halethala]

** Ouu . . another very able Healer amongst us! Well done, dear! Perhaps you will entice the Ladies Rayven and Laurestina to return and plot something needing loads of dreadful tasting herbal infusions **

[Lady Laurestina]

(( my word..... I think I will just set myself in the corner on a chair and drink a jug of wine since my mouth is open .... with awe... and wonder... tis why I became dehydrated .... AWESOME Sofia!))

[LadyLaurestina]

Finally after a long day , she found herself in the main hall. pulling her legs up and curling them up upon the seat of the Kings th roan, she couldn't help but feel the dampness from the stone floor creep through out the castle. Now that Fall had pulled up in full regalia and moved in lock stock and barrel, She found it hard to find enough time each day to accomplish the things that needed to be done. IT wouldn't be long now before the snows and ices pulled up in their wagons too.

She was quite certain no one other than the King should be sitting in the Kings th roan but who was to know....? The hall was empty and so parched was she. The raspberry wine was mighty fine, and after throwing some cherry logs upon the fire, nothing could have felt finer than nesting down for a bit.

As she left the worries and cares of the day behind, and sent them flying off up into the rafters..... and resting her head back on the high backed chair,.... there seemed to be some thing strange ... something was brewing.... a smell penetrated through the air!.... IT seemed to be rather sweet..but yet stinging to the nostrils at the same time! .... It certainly wasn't the smell of the cherry wood !. There was something else cooking in the castle.

*Sitting up straight.... and looking around very slowly...her eyes darted to each corner of the room..* seeing no candle or firelight shinning from under the kitchen door... ruled out the possibility of cookie creating something delicious or even having some sort of culinary accident. * She wondered even more where the strange aroma could possibly be originating from.*
" Aye... she spoke out loud... " tis probably Lady Dream burning something in her chamber fire....aye?............. or is it?"
She looked to the stairs.... set down the bottle of wine, jumped out of the th roan .... and still fully went to the stairs that led to the chamber floors .... and cautiously... with her nose in the air... climbed up two steps, and took a whiff....* shook her head* went up two more... took another whiff.... * shook her head and backed down to the main hall....Placed her hands on her hips... an slowly tuned around....and then around again, .her nose high up in the air.......

where was it coming from? ..and what on earth could it be?

[sofia]

(*S* Wow, thank you Ladies)


(17:22:12)
Sofia
Guest of WS
: ~The lavendar-and-plantain ointment had steeped all night, to be strained and bottled earlier this morning by the merry old woman who spoke such broad peasant dialect. She had, however, rather pointedly left the pot still greasy and a handfull of ashes thrown in. And so the younger Moroccan woman now busies herself scrubbing the grease out by this simple if primitive expedient. When the pot is free of every last trace of grease, she swishes it out a couple times with steaming-hot water just to be sure, then sets it near the hearth to dry after a good wiping. Now her attention turns to the baskets again lining the simple counter. This time there's mullein.....the tea would relieve lung congestion like very few other herbs. In the worst cases, a patient could gain relief by inhaling the plant's smoke. She smiles then, pleased to recognize the thick, downy-furred leaves that lookd tough yet were so very fragile in the hands. Also occupying baskets are entire plants of fennel, though cut in sections to fit their simple containers. Simmered seeds would bring a mother's milk in, yet steeped in hot wine, would ease a woman's courses. The roots would be an energetic purgative, and every part was good to help a patient make water (diuretic). But for now her attention falls back to the Mullein, and she smiles a little again. Taking up the half-used skein of cheap wool yarn and the dagger Kyle had given her, slender blades of flesh gather up a measured handful...a light yet firm wrapping and tyong off, then one deft movement severs the yarn. The bundle lands in an empty basket, then she begins again. Like the comfrey before, bundle after bundle is neatly tied, filling the baskets slowly. Her rythm is easy, a soft tune pon petal-pink lips....humming at first...then a soft melody....warming to a rich, pure contralto that seems to float through the room like a mist. Strangely enough for one from the Muslim world, she sings not Arab tunes, but rather the Gregorian Chant that had become popular in the Monastaries and Nunneries in recent decades. All the while she sings, her agile hands work in unceasing rythm~

(17:29:50)
Sofia
Guest of WS
is in the Infirmary, and says to ALL: ~After some long while has passed, the mullein is finally all bundled. Peeking outside she spies one of the more junior maids, a big raw peasant lass, yet with a sweet smile and a ready hand to help. ~You girl....yes you....have you time for an easy task?....Good! Please, come in and hang bundles of herbs from the beams, and I'll pay you a coin all for yourself.~ The big girrl agrees readily of course, and hurries into the infirmary to begin her task. This taken care of, Sofia's attention turns to the Fennel. ~

(17:36:50)
Sofia
Guest of WS
is in the Infirmary, and says to ALL: ~Dark eyes examine the stalks, roots, and seeds with care. Finally she decides to take a wooden bowl, and brush the seeds into it. Her soft hands work with care, making sure to not bruice or break any part of the materiel. With care, she even scoops the strays up from the bottoms of the willow-withe baskets, adding them to the pile in the bowl. Stirring with a stick, soft breath blows through and sends any minor plant flotsam drifting up and out. The seeds then get put into tight, broad, flat baskets lined with coarse but clean linen, to avoid losing any as they dried near the fireplace. Again through these tasks, Gregorian chant fills the room like a ghost. Behind her, the young maid hums along as she hangs the last of the mullein bundles in neat rows from the beams, then grins and hurries out to return to her normal chores. Sofia laughs, then turns her attention to the fennel roots~

(17:43:23)
Sofia
Guest of WS
is in the Infirmary, and says to ALL: ~Not entirely sure what else to do with them, she finally decides to slice them thin and dry them before the fire like any other root. The task itsself isn't difficult with a razor-sharp knife and a steady hand, but the licorice-like smell quickly becomes intense and forces her to step outside periodically for a breather. After some long while, a few breaks, she finishes the task, and sets the thin layers close to the hearth and high pon shelves so as to dry quickly. Later they could be brewed into medicine at need. Now however, she sends the remaining parts to the kitchen, for fennel also flavored any number of dishes very well, and she thinks Cook might find them useful and thus avoid waste.~

[Dream Loxley]

(( Indeed..........splendid reading ladies! I am enjoying this immensely....and what an informative thread it is also. Well done Sofia. )

[Repsol]

I,m hooked, got me readers on now, well written and interesting, will follow closely..

[LadyLaurestina]

Though one would think the lady would have gone on a walk about at least..... or had taken up the quest to check out where the smells were originating from, no, instead she curled up next to the hearth , and fell asleep. As she had listened to The crackling fire...and took some hefty big sips of the wine she found herself thinking about all the things yet to be done in the infirmary.
There she slept, but for how long she did not know. As she woke...and touched the soft sheepskin upon which she half sat...... she now heard music... chanting... She patted her head... smoothed out her hair.... and questioned ...What ever was going on?
The fire nearly out, and there was no mistaking the smells that now filled her whole body. It felt...it smelt..and even tasted good.... What was going on? /Still she saw no light coming from under the servery door.... and there was no more torches slit than usual.

Shaking her head to clear her head, there had to be an explanation, surely it was the Queen herself. She was probably in the chapel with some minstrels, praying and burning candles and herbal sticks... so that the prayers would go up to those who needed to hear...on the silken fragrant tendrils of smoke..... She was nae sure about this, as she found she was one of those prayers only when she was sorely on her last leg, or had something mighty big hanging over her head that she could nae let alone..dismiss... ignore.. or fix... . Though her queen was devout to say the least... she greatly admired her for her devout and religious vigor.
Surely it was late, so to her chambers she would take. Pulling another log from the cradle, she laid it upon the ruby embers. IN doing such it was as saying a warm welcome to any who would visit the hall this eve.

Walking toward the staircase once more, she thought about being noisy and looking in the chapel or better yet into the servery. ...and as she stood quiet....hesitating for a few minutes, she saw something... a fleeting whip... ... in and out of the cookery it went... and with it was a smell... a sweet smell... rather reminding her or some of the strong spirits that Captain Tyrun would bring with him... yes it smelled like him. Again shaking her head.... she let out a SCREAM.... panic engulfing her as she pulled up her skirts and took the stairs two at a time.... there were ghosts in the Castle... she seen it for herself.. she must tell someone one about it as soon as possible...she wondered if perhaps Lady Dream was about... surely she could discuss the matter with her... Pulling a torch from the castle wall on the second floor...she hustled down to lady Dreams door....and Knocked.... and whispered gasping with each work...." Dream...Lady Dream... are thee awake MI Lady...?" I need to speak with thee.... please... oh please answer..." Her voice rising as she became nearly hysterical....." MI Lady... tis I....Laurestina...and...and... OH.....Dream... Please .... I am ever so sorry to bother thee at this time of the night..but surely it can nae be later than seven..aye? MI Lady...PLEASE....She knocks even harder.... and then realizes she is very light of head..and tired...... she rests against the door .....*a Tear floats down her cheek....... *.....She fears the worst.... she imagines Tyrun has died..and his ghost has returned for a visit. .

[Millie and Mollie]

It was Mollie who took the torch from a trembling and distraught Lady Laurestina, while Millie tried her best to calm the poor woman. They explained it was dawn and the Lady Loxley was away from the Castle for a while. Mollie placed the torch back into a nearby holder to make sure it was safe and would do no harm, Laurestina was in such a bad way she could have set light to the whole Castle according to the twins!

"Hush now M'Lady, ye shell be awakin' tha dead! Ghosts ye says.....nay, tha Castle 'tas nae ghosts" Offered Mollie, as Millie frowned at the mention of waking the dead. She silently berated her sister and reached to take Laurestina's hands to help her stand up.

"Come M'Lady........ye be showin' us jist what ye did see.......praps it were a mouse aye"

Both girls could smell the aroma of licorice and wondered if Laurestina had been enchanted by the gentle songs of the foreign lady staying in the Castle, mind, Laurestina was often enchanted by spirits of the other kind......so anything was possible at this moment in time!

[LadyLaurestina]

Her eyes flew open.... as she patted her cheek with the hem of her skirt...
" Goodness gracious.... I be tellin' yea.. both..... twas no mouse.. * shaking her hands now...she reached high over her own head with her hands as she contiued to speak with outmost enthusiasim... and convictions.* " twas a BIG... twas indeed a very tall ... ghost... be no mouse..."
* looking down at the floor.. and shaking her head ...
" I know I be nae wrong... I be telling yeah once more....twas nae a mouse.." *
the tone in her voice now almost begging the twins to believe in what she had been tellling the whole floor.

As she settled down, letting reality set in a bit... the two lasses continued their attempt to conjoeal her into going back down into the hall and looking agai. but they had no idea that the lady in front of them was nae taken by fright too oft.... so for whatever it was that had frightened her so... it was nae a family pet...twas very soft of feet if it even had any... and twas swift! .

As for Mollie's insight into her awaking the dead... she herself thought.... something awoke the dead this eve...but certainly... she hoped it was nae like she had throught first... and how her throughts ran frist to Tyrun. As she debunked the whole string of thoughts.... ..goose pimples ran amok up and down her legs and arms like an army of ants.

Looking first at Mollie and then back to MIllie.... she just shook her head... and whispered.." Nae... I be going to mi chambers now....... I need mi rest MI sweet dears.... I ave had quite enough excitement for the eve..." " It seems to mi....that I have lost track of t ...t.... time, have had some sort of delusional experience, and on top of it all... Lady Dream be not in the castle... ... so i best just be taking ta mi bed.."

Shaking her head.... to and fro she has decided to pretend that she is all settled in the head, and swishes the twins back to what they were doing before she so rudely lost control of her senses. But no matter what they thought... she knew very well in her own heart that indeed there was a ghost amid the premises.

* nodding.... *...she pronounced as calmly and sweetly as she could muster right now
" Thank thee Mi DEaries.... I am ever so sorry for having troubled both of thee... but nae, I shall nae go back down to take another look.... instead I will just rest a while...and may haps on the morn all will be back to normal."

With this she ambled down to her room... .. steading herself with one hand resting on the wall as she walked away.

[sofia]

(Sorry it took so long, I've been on SEVERELY limited 'net time, and out of town the last 4 days)

~A bloodcurdling shriek RIPS her eyes open in the middle of the night, sitting bolt upright with her heart pounding like a drum up into her throat and gasping for breath. A few words in virulent Arabic escape dry lips, then the next scream comes and her head snaps around, listening......it's a woman's scream....evidently having the worst nightmare in history. Well, that or being ripped apart by horses.....she didn't know of any executions scheduled for ungodly hours of the night in this country, so it must be nightmares. Grumbling a bit, she makes a mental note to send the woman some catmint tea tomorrow evening to prevent further disruptions to everybody's sleep. That brief thought filed away safely, she rolls over, ad is almost instantly asleep again~

((Will do a proper r/p later))

[sofia]

**After riding at leisure for several days, the Moroccan Woman had finally come to a distant and isolated Benedictine Abbey. She had rode her gray mare to the gates, greeting the Brother politely. When asked her business, she had replied in quiet tones that she needed to learn of this country's herbs, the names and uses of them, in order to better serve the needs of her home. The tonsured monk had been kind if somewhat reserved when he permitted her inward, calling a novice to take her to the Abbot. It was most unusual to allow a woman into this all male enclave, and the Abbot had been extremely reserved at first. They had talked for a long time behind a closed door. When the heavy oaken portal opened again there was no woman in sight, but a figure hooded and wearing the same rough homespun brown robe as all the others. And so the Arab woman Sofia had become "Brother Sophocles, here to study with Brother Simon".....at least for a few days.

Brother Simon had been predictably ruffled at first, uncomfortable and akward, short-tempered and quarrelsome. He was an ancient little man, fussy and set in his ways, but her existing knowledge and gentle courtesy soon calmed him, and before long "Brother Sophocles's" lessons had begun in earnest. They worked from dawn till late into the night, pausing only for meals, sleep, and the daily round of prayers, which "he" attended as faithfully as all the others. But then, that had been the agreement.....learning would be given, but there must be no hint of anything unusual...and soon the brothers simply forgot that "he" was anything other than another monk. Brother Simon had taught of medicines both simple and compound, how to recognize the plants, the signs and causes of many illnesses ad ailments...more advanced techniques such as suturing and even bleeding....had let "Brother Sophocles" copy page after page of plant sketches for identification, translating written latin into spoken english, reciting their properties and uses while a slender hand would write the information in flowing Arabic. In return the "Visiting Brother" had shared all "his" own knowledge with the elderly Simon, reciting while the venerable little man wrote his own notes in latin.

Now with many new scrolls in her pack and a fond farewell to Brother Simon, once more the Moroccan woman departs the Abbey's gates, and points the gray mare's nose back toward Windstorm Castle.**

[sofia]

~Having had Their chances to bathe and eat, the men came creeping...almost sneaking...one by one into the infirmary when they thought none would see them. Cuts, bruises, wounds, each came under old Hannah's deft and gentle care. She washed each wound in a steeping of lavendar water, then applied various ointments according to need. Some were worse off than others. These the old woman would clean with especial care, the mash fresh plantain leaves and lavendar oil in the great stone mortar with honey. This fragrant mixture would be applied with care to stop infections and promote healing. Soon enough the men were in good spirits again, joking and teasing...."Thee smells pretty as a lass, John, what ye been' doin' when we don't see thee?"

[Rayven]

*OOC..

Wonderful writing by all that have contributed to this thread. I'm hoping time will allow me to begin writing again, as I miss doing so and miss visting with all of you.

Nice to know the infirmary where Rayven spent so much of her time and energy is alive and well and in such capable hands. (smiles) Until time allows, Rayven is still sailing around the world with Tyrun (no, not in THAT way, just as a friend and cultivator of rare herbs that they come across in their travels.)

Miss you all...take care.

Take care all.

[sofia]

Thank you for the kind words