"You dress like harlots," Tibelda said through the door, in heavily accented but understandable English.
"We're not. Please, open the door."
The gap and the eye appeared again. "What do you want?"
"Some help." Anne brought out their bribe—dried parsley, one of the last bottles in stock at the Grantville A & P. "This is for you."
Tibelda emerged and took the bottle. "It should be dried on the stem, not crumbled." She opened it and sniffed. "Too old." She thrust it back in the nurse's hand. "Go away."
"Wait!" Sharon caught the door before it slammed shut. "Mathilde said you took good care of the women in Jena. There are other people who need your help, and they can't take no for an answer."
Either Mathilde's name or the compliment appeared to mollify the old woman, for the door swung inward.
Sharon and Anne walked in. Crude furnishings within the cottage provided Spartan comfort, while bunches of flowers and herbs hung suspended from the network of boughs supporting the roof thatch. Another door at the back of the cottage stood open, revealing a well-stocked pantry. The air smelled fragrant and delicious, thanks to something bubbling in a pot hung over the hearth. A thin pallet occupied one corner, while a simple cross nailed to one wall provided the only decoration.
"Just like Granny's." Anne's eyes grew misty. "Right down to the simmering stew pot."
Sharon gave her friend's arm a squeeze. When Grantville had been wrenched from the year 2000 and thrown back through the Ring of Fire to 1632, Anne had been shopping in town. She'd lost her entire family, including her beloved grandmother, who'd lived only twenty miles away.
Tibelda went to stir the pot. "Where are the people who need me?"
The two women exchanged a look before Anne began with, "You may have heard about Grantville—"
"The place of endless wonders, and witchcraft." She snorted. "I've heard."
Anne wondered if the old woman resented the competition. "People who have lost their homes and families to the war have taken sanctuary with us. Most of our refugees arrive wounded."
"War destroys everything." Tibelda didn't sound impressed.
"We've used our own supplies up 'til now to help these people, but we're running low now," Sharon said. "Especially on medicine."
Tibelda sampled what was in the pot. "So you need my herbs."
"We need your knowledge," Anne corrected her. "I know a lot about herbal medicines, but nothing about what grows here or can be had from traders. You do. We'd like you to come back to Grantville and teach us."
Tibelda removed a handful of leaves from a pocket in her girdle, and tossed them in the pot. "You could be witch-hunters, sent to test me."
"Show time," Sharon murmured.
"Frau Tibelda, watch this." Anne removed a syringe and a small vial from her pack. While she prepared the injection, the paramedic rolled up her sleeve and tied off her upper arm.
The sight of the needle seemed to mesmerize the old woman. "What are you doing?"
"Proving we aren't witch-hunters." Anne slid the slanted needle tip into Sharon's vein and depressed the plunger. "Would they do something like this?"
The old woman came closer, so engrossed she spoke in rapid German. "So small—like a bee sting. Why does she not drink from the bottle instead? Why put it in her arm? How do you distill it to make it so clear?"
"She wants to talk shop, right?" At Anne's nod, Sharon grinned. "We've got her."
"Alte Hexe!" Someone pounded on the front door. "Aufmachen! Du wirst mir helfen!"
Sharon rose, still holding her arm. "What's that mean?"
"Someone else wants help, and they're not asking nicely." Anne swept everything off the table and into her pack. "Do you have a back door?"
"No, hide, in here. Quickly!" Tibelda shoved Sharon in the pantry. Before she could do the same with Anne, the door flew open and three men strode in. From their rough, sweat-stained clothes, bleached hair, and ruddy skin, the nurse guessed they were farmers.
Very upset farmers.
The largest began gesturing wildly while speaking in German too rapid for Anne to follow. When Tibelda shook her head, he shouted "Ist Drud!" and came after her.
"Hey." The nurse shoved him back, and he stared at her with almost comical disbelief. "Hau ab, you jerk."