You may have heard of alchemy. If you have not, that is perfectly fine. For the uninitiated, alchemy is the practice of converting base metals into gold. There was an alchemist in our village when I was a lad. He was a secretive, solitary, unfriendly sort who just sneered at any man, woman or child who crossed his path. He was tall, with a crooked nose and greasy black hair that peeked out from the bottom of his top hat. He wore a black fur cape and carried a staff with some sort of angry bird carved into its head.
One foggy and misty evening when the alchemist was running a life-threatening fever, his servant, a flustery, bustling type not much taller than me, called for an herbalist. I was working with old Fausta at the time, and after struggling to find our way through the dense fog, we arrived at his house with a cup of fever tea. To this day, I gratefully (it is very useful) remember the contents of this mix: 2 cups water, ½ teaspoon each elder flowers, yarrow flowers, peppermint leaves and hyssop leaves. He drank the tea, glaring up at us all the while, even in his weakened state, and then motioned for us to leave. He did not utter a word of "thanks" or even a greeting and left his servant to pay us for our services. I would have loved to have peeked into his lab while I was there, but being a most unwelcome guest, did not have that opportunity. But even his resting quarters were littered with test tubes, scraps of metal and strange and unholy seeming objects. For instance, there was what appeared to be dried lizard and rodent heads strewn about. I didn't look at them closely for their shriveled up faces were desperate and frightening and they made me shiver. I did not think that lizard and rodent heads were part of alchemy, but what did I know? I was just a poor herbalist's apprentice and didn't know a thing about the ancient metal arts. I did note, however, that amongst the unpleasant man's possessions, there did not appear to be a smidgen of gold. But then again, he may have had it all locked away in a safe somewhere and I was not about to investigate. That, my dear readers is my only brush with alchemy. And the spinning of straw into gold would not even fit into that category, I'm afraid. Straw is not metal as most of you know, so that ancient magic would not apply to its transformation.
This is all I have for you today. I'm feeling a bit peckish and cranky. I must go out and procure myself a bit of porridge and bacon. I hope the market is open or these belly rumblings and my sour expression will most certainly cause a ruckus in the town.
I should add before I go, that the above painting is by William Fettes Douglas and is called, fittingly enough The Alchemist. I might add that my unfriendly alchemist's living quarters looked nothing like this.
