CHAPTER X
THE MAN IN GREY
THEY got back to Les Trois Fleur-de-Lys with some hours of the long afternoon still to spare, so they at once set about turning the brew-house into a dispensary. While Roger stabled Monsieur de Montaigne and unloaded his panniers the Doctor brought down from his room two battered old portmanteaux, containing his medical instruments, a few crude laboratory appliances and the oddments of stock that he had over from his last journey. A fire was soon lighted under the big copper and a supply of fresh water drawn from the well in the yard; then Dr. Aristotle entered upon the performance of his dubious mysteries.
Roger, his coat off and his shirt sleeves.rolled up, watched him fascinated, and lent his aid by washing and drying the pots and bottles, then filling them with the Doctor's sinister concoctions. Many of their purchases needed no further treatment than watering down and the principal business resolved itself into two main operations each followed by a number of subsidiary ones. The first was the blending of a foundation grease to which was added a variety of scents, some fragrant and some abominably foul, to give it the semblance of a number of quite different ointments; the second was the blending of a clear fluid, containing 90 per cent water, to varying proportions of which colouring matter or pungent flavourings were added for a similar purpose.
They broke off for supper then returned to finish their labours by candlelight, spending an additional hour rolling pills made of soap and a dash of cascara, then they packed their wares into the panniers and retired to bed.
In the morning Roger woke with the awful thought that during the night the Doctor might have absconded with the lotions and unguents which now represented his small capital, leaving him near destitute. Hurriedly pulling on his clothes he dashed downstairs and out to the stable. To his immense relief he found his fears to be groundless; Monsieur de Montaigne was quietly munching away at the hay in his manger and the panniers lay nearby packed and strapped as they had been left the night before.
Half an hour later, still feeling a little guilty about his unjust suspicions, he met his partner in the coffee robm and they sat down to their petit dejeuner. Over the meal they discussed the itinerary for their journey and the Doctor having come down from Picardy via Dieppe, visiting all the villages along the coast on his way, it was decided to continue on into southern Normandy; but as they could not afford to take passage in a ferry across the wide estuary of the Seine they would follow its northern bank east as far as Rouen and then strike south from there.
Roger's bill for the eventful thirty-eight hours he had spent at Les Trois Fleur-de-Lys came to eight francs fourteen sous, so after a pourboire to the serving man and the chambermaid he was reduced to a single crown and a little small change; but he was not unduly perturbed by the depletion of his resources as the day was fine and it held for him ample promise of new scenes and interests.
Having hoisted the panniers on to Monsieur de Montaigne's back and strapped on top of them the Doctor's collapsible street pulpit they left the inn soon after eight o'clock and took the road to Harfleur.
It was on the way there that the Doctor spoke tactfully to Roger about his sword. The old man told him that in France it was forbidden to carry arms unless of noble birth; the only exception to the rule being that barbers were allowed to do so, as a special concession on account of their peculiarly intimate relations with the nobility and their clients' dependence upon them. In the towns, of course, many soldiers of fortune, and scallywags such as the Chevalier, wore swords in support of their pretensions to an aristocratic lineage that they did not in fact possess, and they were so numerous as rarely to be called to account for this misdemeanour, but in the country it was different.
As the Doctor pointed out, should some nobleman drive up to an inn and halt there for the horses of his coach to be watered he might see Roger wearing a sword while assisting to peddle their medicines. This would appear so incongruous to him that he would most probably set his lackeys on to give Roger a whipping.
Having worn his sword only for a day, Roger was somewhat loath to take it off; but he saw the sense of the Doctor's remarks and felt that as he had never carried one in England, to go without it would be no great deprivation, so he removed it from its frog and stowed it among the baggage on the mule.
By ten o'clock they reached the still battlemented walls of Harfleur, made famous by King Henry V's siege and reduction of it, but they did not pause there, and continued on along the main highway to the north-east, until an hour after midday they entered the village of St. Romain.
Hungry now, after their twelve-mile tramp, they went to the inn and, for a franc, procured a meal of bread and cheese washed down by a coarse vin du pays. During the afternoon they rested in an orchard, then towards five o'clock when the peasants, their day's work done, began to drift back from the fields, the partners proceeded to set about their business.
While the Doctor put up his stand outside the inn, Roger brought from the stable an assortment of bottles and pots which he set out on a small folding table beside the stand. The Doctor then mounted it and picking up a large handbell began to ring it loudly to attract the handful of people who were to be seen doing errands or gossiping in the village street.
In a few moments he had a dozen children round him and a few grown-ups, and Roger had to admire the cleverness with which he opened the proceedings. Producing a packet of the cheap sweets from his pocket he addressed himself to the children.
"My little ones, you see in me a wise man skilled in all medicines. Many of you must have mothers, fathers, and other relatives who are suffering and in pain from one cause or another. Run now to your homes and tell them that the good Doctor Aristotle Fenelon has arrived here for the special purpose of curing their complaints, and that it will cost them no more than a few sous. But before you bear these good tidings to your folks look what I have here for you, a sweet a-piece as succulent as it is colourful. Forget not my message; and those of you who have pretty sisters should add that for a trifle I have lotions and unguents here which will make red hands as white as alabaster and dull eyes sparkle like the stars."
He then handed out the highly-coloured sweets amongst them and they scurried away to spread the news of his visit through the village.
After ringing the bell again for a while he had a crowd of some twenty people assembled and more were drifting up every moment. As Roger looked at them he greatly doubted if they could raise a louis between them, as they were mostly dressed in rags, and it struck him most forcibly how much poorer the people here appeared to be than would have a similar crowd in an English village. But his attention was soon distracted from the comparison as he endeavoured to follow the flowery phrases in which the Doctor now addressed them.
"My friends!" he cried, in a sonorous voice, "To-day is a day of good fortune for this ancient and populous township of St. Romain. Never, I make bold to say, since the good Saint who founded it passed to his holy rest, has such a unique opportunity been offered to its intelligent inhabitants to be swiftly relieved of their ills, both physical and mental.
"I am the great Doctor Aristotle Fenelon, of whom many of you must have heard; since I spend my life ministering to suffering humanity, and my name is reverenced from far Muscovy to even more distant Cathay for the miraculous cures and good works that I perform —yet I am also your most humble servant.