“Thank you, my dear.” Agathe hugged Madlen tightly, then climbed upstairs. Was it because she now knew that the beast lurked in her breast that she took her time, or had climbing those stairs always caused her trouble? As she reached the upper hallway, she gasped and stopped to take a painful breath. Agathe tried to remain calm, but each step she took felt more difficult than the last. She heard Madlen inform Roswitha about the situation and ordered her not to return to the house without the frankincense.
By the time Agathe reached her bed, her heart was pounding against her chest. She’d lost all her strength from one moment to the next. She let herself sink down onto the bed, feeling too weak to even lift her legs so she could lie on the mattress completely. She heard the front door close downstairs.
Now that the house was quiet, she could hear for herself the rattling sound that arose from her chest with each breath. Why had she never noticed that before? Up to now, her cough only bothered her occasionally. But a woman like Agathe rarely heeded a little cough. The thought of her health deteriorating terrified her. Would she die? She wasn’t an old woman yet, but at the age of forty, she wasn’t young anymore, either. Had she spent enough years on this earth to put her life in God’s hands? Was her life really nearing its end? Agathe refused to believe this, but even now, a coughing fit started, this time accompanied by some sort of smelly discharge. She hastily put a handkerchief over her mouth. Agathe braced her upper body so she could at least get a little air. As the cramp in her chest eased off a bit, she sank down powerlessly. She could almost feel death’s bony hand reach out and touch her.
Madlen trotted along the harbor up to the meadow that ran along the Rhine within the city walls. She gazed at the thin layer of frost that shrouded the grass, weeds, and other vegetation. In her mind’s eye, she could see Agathe’s face, which had become more dear and familiar to her each and every day. But the image was juxtaposed with her memory of Clara, who had also treated her with love and kindness. Suddenly, the image of Clara’s dress catching fire flashed into her mind. Madlen shook her head to rid herself of those images. Now this terrible thing with Agathe. Though she couldn’t help Clara, she could do everything in her power to save her dear aunt’s life.
This wasn’t the first time that she had heard the cough now racking Agathe’s body. In Heidelberg, people said that the traveling merchants brought these diseases overland from their travels up and down the river. This was the reason some townsfolk kept their distance. But they only kept their distance from the merchants—people still happily bought their wares, Madlen noted with scorn. She was convinced that these wares contaminated and spread disease, affecting people, food, and drink alike. In Agathe’s case, she wasn’t surprised her aunt got a nasty cough considering the variety of people and goods she was exposed to on a daily basis. She lived right on the harbor, where so many foreign ships moored. Everyone there knew her, and often she bought goods directly from the ships as they unloaded their freight. She also sold her clothes all over town and sometimes beyond, for instance whenever she got an order from a traveling merchant who wanted a dress for his wife. Yes, Agathe was exposed to many contagions. It made it all the more important now to do everything she could to help Agathe fight the infection spreading through her body.
Madlen swept her eyes over the ground, bending down from time to time to determine whether she’d found something she could use. She knew almost all the plants and their medicinal uses. Most of them didn’t help with coughs; however, they were useful for other ailments. Madlen took everything she thought she might be able to use and put it in her basket. Suddenly her heart beat faster. Just a few steps away, she saw a hint of yellow under the frost. She quickened her pace, knelt down, breathed a sigh of relief, and immediately harvested all the coltsfoot she could find. This herb would make Agathe healthy again; Madlen prayed to God that it wasn’t too late.
“Hurry! She’s getting worse.” Roswitha rushed over to Madlen as she entered the house. “Tell me what to do.”
“Put some water on with some milk. We’re going to prepare a brew from herbs and oil and rub it on her chest. She must be kept warm, but we’ll need to wrap ice around her legs, so she won’t get too hot.”
Roswitha nodded quickly. “I’ll get everything together. You’ll prepare the herbs?”
“Yes.”
Both women went their separate ways. Roswitha went to the bedchamber carrying towels; Madlen went into the kitchen to prepare the herbs. Roswitha found her, and Madlen showed her how to prepare the brew that Agathe would have to drink immediately, as much of it as possible. It wasn’t long before the women entered the sick woman’s bedchamber. Agathe lay calmly on her bed, her face ashen.