ST - Persona (long)

[Walter J. Wakefield]

Fair greetings to you all.  I hight Suzanna, the Herbalist I am called. 
I grew up in a small village neere unto London by about a day's journey,
an the roads be not muddy; half a day more when the spring rains come.  I
think you would know it not.  When I was a child, Henry was King, but
when he died, his son Richard became King.  He is off to the Crusades now
to save Jerusalem from the infidel, and tales of his bravery abound; some
are even calling him Lion-hearte.  Whilst he is away, his mother, Queen
Eleanor doth rule, and methinks she doth very well at it.  
	
Now, I never studied with the monks, and for this cause my Latin is
wanting.  (Though I did see the books in the scriptorum at the monastery
when we went up there once.)  What I learnt was taught me by my mother,
who was the healer for our village, and also tended the lord and his
family at the manor when they might be taken sick.  And my granny, who
came from Ireland, taught me much of the herbs used in her land.  Now,
Father owned three virgates of land, which my brother doth work, and on
which we had a fine stone house.  And so we did also have Saxon cotters
to help us work the land.  The woman, Aelfric, she was skilled in the
Saxon leechcraft and wort kenning.  Oft did she and Mother change
receipts for some simple or other, and thus I did learn from her as well.
 I tell you this that you might know I have learnt from many that which I
practice on those who may be taken ill.

I did leave our village after the lord's favorite daughter took quite
ill.  Since he sent for the barber before he did fetch me up, I was not
able to cure her.  And so I thought it prudent to travel to another
place.  And on my journey I did collect those herbs that might be needful
as the seasons turn.  But I must also tell you of another herb that I did
not collect. An herb that will bring on sleep and take away paine when
boiled in wine is the mandrake.  And many stories are told of other
magical powers of this root, but many of these tales are told by the
unlearned.  For it is not true that the digging of the root of the
mandrake will cause one to fall senseless; this is told to prevent those
that know this herb not from falling into a mischance.  On my journey, I
did chance upon a large and fine mandrake plant, and I thought that I
might dig the root for a time that I might need it.  Roots must be dug in
the dark, but I thought that, as it was the full of the moon, the root
would be less active than it might be in the dark of the moon.  So when
the moon was high in the sky, I returned to dig the mandrake root.  It
was not pleased that I tried to dig it, so it clutched my braid and tried
to pull me under the earth as I was trying to dig it up.  But it was
pulling me under faster than I could dig, so I cut my braid off and ran
from that place.  The next morn, I returned to the same place, but I
could find no sign of my braid; I know not what the mandrake did with it.
 But from that day to this, I wear my hair short, that it might not catch
in the greenbriar, and I only dig *small* mandrake roots.  Take note of
my tale, and be cautious of this herb.    

At some time in my travels I was apprenticed to a potter to learn to make
pitchers and all manner of vessels of clay.  But the work proved hard,
and I was not so strong as a boy might be, so the potter let me go. 
Another time, I apprenticed for a time to a silversmith to learn to make
precious vessels and plate.  But as I did more often make jewellry and
suchlike trinkets, he did beat me often.  So I left his house also (and
only took a little silver with me for all those times he beat me).  So
eventually did I come to this curious land called Ansteorra.  Here I met
my lord husband Agilwulf, a Saxon fisherman squired to a Moorish knight. 
And as he paid a handsome brideprice, I did agree to marry him.  So that
is how I came to dwell in the land of the Steppes, fine fair Barony that
it is.  I pray the Lord keep you safe, and if you should take ill or by
mischance come to a hurt, pray call upon me and I shall cure you.

Suzanna


Chiara, you may use this if you like.  If you do, please note it as
copyright 2000 by Sue Rogers, permission to reprint must be requested. 
Thanks.

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