Inceptio — The Alchemist’s Apprentice

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Artezo walked to Margo’s house. The surrounding fields were bestrewn with farmworkers scattering seeds in the Earth. Timber-framed houses lined either side of the dirt path. Artezo came to the door with a large metal cross on the front. 

“You can’t miss it.” Teresa had said.

She was right. The cross was solid and metal and looked to weigh over two stone. The door was opened by an elderly man with broad shoulders and a grey beard.

“Yes?” The elderly man asked, eyeing Artezo with suspicion.

“My name is Artezo. Teresa told me your daughter is sick. I may be able to help.”

“Ah. Yes. Please, come in. My name is Thomas.” Thomas was not a lean man, but his muscular build was evidently depleting itself in his old age. 

Inside, several crosses hung above a burning firepit. The room was small and bundles of fabrics were piled in every corner. Thomas led Artezo to the back, where a woman was tending to a girl in bed.

“Elizabeth,” Thomas said. “This is Artezo, he is here to help our daughter.”

Elizabeth looked up, her brown eyes downturned with grief. Artezo took her place by the bedside as she stood beside Thomas. Artezo bent down and examined Margo. Her skin was nearly pale, she looked up to Artezo with fevered eyes but couldn’t utter a word.

Artezo turned to Elizabeth and Thomas, “she’s very ill. However, there’s something that may help.”

Thomas and Artezo went to Teresa’s. She took the key to the physician’s shop and let them inside. Inside, sturdy shelves lined the storefront, cluttered with vials, bowls, and bottles containing bones, horns, herbs, liquids, minerals, bits of skin and scales, and roots both dried and living. Artezo went into the back room, where two mantles and a furnace sat atop a workbench. Bowls of all shapes and sizes were cleaned and stacked on shelves.

Artezo looked through the ingredients on the shelves, finding all he needed. He took the ingredients to the mortar and crushed various herbs, barks, and plant oils into a sludge. He took the sludge to the mantle and boiled it in alcohol, then poured the contents through a filter into a vial.

“This should help your daughter,” Artezo said, handing Thomas the vial. “Allow it to cool, then give her a teaspoon twice in the morning and once at night.”

Thomas grasped the vial. “Thank you, Artezo,” and he ran out the door.

As Teresa and Artezo left the shop, she turned to him, “Thank you again, Artezo.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Artezo replied.

“Will you be back at the inn for supper?” she asked.

“Certainly.”

Teresa walked back to the inn and the sunshine prompted Artezo to go for a stroll. He waved to a few of the townsfolk gazing at the stranger walking past. A few returned his wave, most watched him pass. The clanging of metal on metal drew Artezo’s attention. He looked up to see a blacksmith working at a forge.

The blacksmith was a large man, with two hulking arms. Artezo watched the blacksmith work, pounding a metal rod flat with great strength. The blacksmith looked up and caught Artezo’s eye, dropping his hammer. Artezo turned away, feeling a shiver of fear run through his spine. He lowered his head and didn’t look back.

When Artezo arrived at the inn, Teresa was serving supper. She placed a plate before him, “How was your walk, Artezo?”

“Fine. Say, who is the blacksmith here?” Artezo asked.

“That would be Flisk, why?”

“Just curious.” Artezo turned to his food.

“Ah, well. He’s a heavy drinker. Gets into brawls. I’d avoid him if you can.”

Artezo nodded thoughtfully, then dug into his meal.

“Artezo, please, come quick!” Thomas yelled from the door. Artezo bolted from his seat and went with Thomas out of the inn. As they strode towards Thomas’s house, Thomas explained, “Just yesterday she was feeling quite well, but this morning she’s worse than before!”

When they entered the room, Margo was lying on her bed pale as a ghost. Elizabeth was at the bedside, clasping Margo’s hand. Artezo checked Margo’s pulse, breathing, and temperature. She was cold to the touch, and her breath came in short wisps.

“There’s something that might help, but I admit, it won’t be pleasant.”

“Anything,” Thomas replied. Elizabeth turned pale, but nodded.

Artezo returned to the shop. He took some rhubarb, buckthorn, and hellebore root from the shelves. Then, he crushed the ingredients into a fine powder and dissolved it in alcohol. 

At Margo’s bedside, Artezo fed her two tablespoons of the remedy. Almost immediately she was vomiting into a bucket by her bedside. Elizabeth held her hair and Thomas rested a hand on her back. When she was through, she laid back on the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

“What’s happened?” Elizabeth asked.

“She’s expelled the black bile. Her body needs time to recover. When she awakes, take her for walks in sunlight three times a day. Feed her only oats in cow milk and lamb sweetened with basil.”

They followed Artezo’s instructions, and within a week, Margo was deemed well.

It wasn’t long before another member of the town became ill. Artezo was sitting at the inn, reading a medical text, when he was approached by Thomas, Elizabeth, and Teresa.

“Artezo, do you have a moment?” Teresa asked. 

“Yes,” he set his book aside. “What is it?”

“The Březinka Family has had a farming accident. We don’t want to trouble you, but we were wondering if you might take a look.”

“Yes, I can do that.”

“We’ve spoken as a town and, if you’re willing, want you to take this.” Teresa handed Artezo the key to the physician’s shop.

“You mean…?”

“We had a meeting last night at the monastery…” Thomas began, “there were some dissenters, but the majority voted for you to remain in town as our physician.”

Artezo took the key, feeling its weight. “Okay. Where do the Březinka’s live?”

“Thomas and Elizabeth can take you there,” Teresa said. “Thank you, Artezo, truly.”

Each day, Artezo grew more accustomed to his life in the village. He appreciated the visits to the inn for meals, the shouts of the children playing in the streets, and the various requests for tonics, powders, and salves. 

Likewise, the town grew accustomed to Artezo. After Artezo took up residence in the physician’s shop, he took inventory of the shop’s contents, secured the joints on the still, and cleaned the bowls, mortars, mantle, and furnace. People dropped in to probe Artezo on his life and trade. He answered what questions he could, and when the town began asking for remedies, he made quick use of his inventory, often having the remedies prepared the same day.

His savings from Prague seemed nearly unlimited in the small town of Louvice, and the small income he garnered from the shop was more than enough to support his needs. In the afternoons, he would often dine at the inn with Teresa. He watched as Aliea became fast friends with a young boy named Irving.

A few weeks passed and Artezo was walking home from a house call. The first stars appeared in the bright evening sky. Artezo’s gazed at the heavens as he walked and nearly missed the blacksmith blocking his path.

He turned to see Flisk holding a bottle. He wobbled on his feet and spit flew from his mouth as he pointed an accusing finger at Artezo. “Devil!” he shouted.

“Excuse me?” Artezo replied.

Before Artezo could react Flisk grabbed Artezo by the shirt. 

“I know what you are.” Flisk said, breathing boozy breath into Artezo’s face.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you do.” Flisk gave a rictus grin, “You’re the devil.”

He threw Artezo onto the dirt and kicked him hard. Blow by blow, Artezo felt the steel toes of the blacksmith’s boot pound against his flesh. He curled himself in a ball and covered his head with his hands, when a kick landed against his torso. The crunch of a rib sent Artezo screaming. The pounding continued until Artezo heard the grunts of many men wrestling the blacksmith away. He heard Flisk’s shouts of drunken agony fade as soft hands fell upon him. A voice carried along his fading consciousness, “Are you okay? Somebody…”

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Artezo’s eyes fluttered open. He recognized the walls of the inn. He was in bed covered by a thick blanket. He went to lift the covers, but a sharp pain rushed through his side. He let out a groan and the door opened. A doctor stood in the doorway wearing a blue cap and robe. He caught Artezo’s eye and smiled. “Is now a good time?” he asked.

Artezo nodded as much as his body allowed. 

The doctor walked to his side, “My name is Philip, from Karlovy Vary. Please, drink,” he handed Artezo a canteen. Artezo drank graciously, following the canteen as the doctor pulled it away.

“Careful now, you don’t know what’s going on in there.” He bent down to check Artezo’s eyes, ears, throat, pulse, and breathing, then pulled down the covers and inspected his wounds.

“You lost a great deal of blood,” Philip said.

“Oh.” Artezo murmured.

“You’re lucky to be alive. Your lungs were impacted in the fight. Two broken ribs pushed right into them. But they appear to have caused minimal damage,” Philip drew back. “You’ll be in bed for quite some time. The owner says you can stay here for the time being – you must be good friends.”

“Yes.” Artezo replied.

“These are for you to take,” he placed a series of vials next to Artezo’s bedside. “Take a teaspoon of each twice daily.” 

“What are they made of?”

“Can’t say. A physician in the city made them, I just know they work – if you take them as directed.”

Artezo nodded.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to change your bandages. Take care for now.”

“Thank you.” Artezo replied.

Elizabeth, Thomas, Margo, and Teresa came into the room as soon as the doctor left. Elizabeth nearly fainted seeing Artezo laying in the bed. Thomas placed his hands on her shoulders. Margo’s eyes welled up and she could hardly utter a word. But, they all crowded around Artezo’s bedside.

“How are you feeling?” Teresa asked.

“I’m fine.” Artezo replied.

“Damn that Flisk!” Elizabeth stormed.

“Take it easy, Elizabeth.” Thomas said. He turned to Artezo, “I’m sorry we couldn’t stop him sooner.”

“Did you find out why he did it?” Artezo asked.

“He was wildly drunk.” Teresa said, “Probably hallucinating.”

“Is there anything we can do for you?” Margo asked.

“No,” Artezo looked up and smiled. “The doctor will be back tomorrow. I’m just happy you’re all here.”

“We stand by you,” Thomas said. “You can count on it.”

What plagued Artezo more than the constant ache of his wounds was the powders the physician had given him. They were filled with floating bits of impurities and made him sick to his stomach. Artezo decided to recruit some help to make a few remedies of his own. He asked Aliea to fetch some ingredients from his shop. Aliea went to Artezo’s shop and brought back the minerals and herbs Artezo described.

“No, no,” Artezo said. “This is a fine white powder, the quicklime is more coarse.” 

Aliea went back two more times before Teresa called her away for chores and Artezo slumped back in bed.“

“Is this what you were looking for?”

Artezo looked up to see Irving at the doorway. Irving held a vial of white powder and brought it to Artezo.

“Yes, this is it. Thank you, Irving. Do you think you could grab a few more things?”

Irving nodded. Artezo gave him a list of ingredients with descriptions and, in a quarter of an hour, Irving returned with everything he requested.

Artezo inspected the containers one by one, “Fantastic. Yes, yes, fantastic. Good eye, Irving.”

Irving smiled. Artezo poured the powders into the mortar and pressed down with the pestle, letting out a groan as a great pain passed through his side.

“Could I?” Irving asked, stepping up to Artezo’s side.

Artezo passed the bowl to Irving who began crushing the ingredients. He fumbled with the pestle at first but gradually found a rhythm. When the ingredients were combined, Artezo made a funnel from a scrap of parchment and poured the powder into a vial. 

“Thank you Irving, this should be a great help.” Artezo said.

“Glad I could help,” he said. The next day, he was back at Artezo’s door.

Artezo handed Irving one of the vials containing a white powder. “Crush about a pea sized amount of this and the other powder together, then…  Have you ever boiled water?” 

Irving nodded.

Each day since the accident, Irving visited Artezo’s bedside and helped him make remedies for the town. Václav’s son was sick, and Artezo was instructing Irving in a basic fever remedy.

“Good. Boil this in alcohol for ten minutes. Keep the mantle flame low – it will boil much quicker than water.”

Irving ran off. He returned an hour later with a full flask.

Artezo held up the flask of medicine. “Good work, but see the bits floating around? That means the alcohol didn’t dissolve everything completely.”

“Why’s that?” Irving asked.

“A couple of reasons; either the alcohol was not hot enough or too much of the powder was added.”

“It was boiling, but I poured in a guess of the powder,” Irving admitted.

“No worries Irving, the solution should work just fine. Run it off to Václav’s, would you?”

Irving ran off into the village. He waved at the townsfolk who were working outside or enjoying their afternoon off. Irving’s parents were farmowners. Although Irving’s father, Gerald, never learned to read, he saw the power of literacy each time the tax collector came to his door. He swore that his son would have a powerful position as a councilmember in the city. After a successful harvest, they were able to hire a laborer. After a second successful harvest, they expanded their lot, hired a second laborer, and found a tutor for Irving.

Irving brought the vial to Václav’s house and Václav handed him a groschen. As he ran back to the inn, Irving passed his father in the street.

Gerald was hard to miss. He was a tall man, with thick muscles from working the fields. “Where are you running off to in such a hurry? Haven’t you got lessons to finish?” he asked. He swung the two sacks of grain he was carrying to the ground and looked at Irving.

“I’m going to help Artezo. All the lessons have been finished – I promise.” Irving replied.

“Artezo? The physician?”

“Yes, he’s teaching me medicine.”

Gerald rubbed his chin, “Medicine?… What kinds of things is he teaching you?” 

Irving prated on all the different remedies Artezo was instructing him to make, the ingredients, how to use the distiller and the mantle…

Gerald nodded as Irving spoke. “Well… Physicianship could be a fine job. Artezo makes a good deal then? Lots of customers?”

Irving nodded. 

“Well then, be off!” Gerald patted his son on the back. “Put your nose to the grindstone and who knows what’ll happen – you may even serve in the city one day!”

Irving smiled and ran off to Artezo.

Artezo’s strength gradually returned over the following fortnights. He began taking full meals and short walks around the inn. When his health improved, returned to his shop, but did, however, have to use a cane.

Flisk never returned to blacksmithing. He was found dead ten days later, sitting in his chair surrounded by empty bottles.