Lavender-Green Magic by Andre Norton Page A

sooth ills away. It hath angelica in it also, and that be sovereign against the ills of the spirit. For sometimes it be true that the ills of the spirit lie harsher on mankind than do the ills of that flesh which he weareth for so short a span of years.”
    Holly listened carefully, but she was not quite sure she understood. Tamar spoke her words oddly, accenting some ofthem as if they were not the language Holly knew but that of another country.
    â€œThose are all herbs”—Judy swept her hand up to gesture to the bunches hanging from the ceiling. “Grandma has some hanging up that way in the shed, but she hasn’t nearly as many of them.”
    â€œThy granny hath the lore?” Tamar said. “She be a wise woman then, and that be why thou hast had the way opened to thee. Aye, those be all which the good earth gives to us for heal-craft and the comfort of our kind.” Her voice then fell into a sing-song, though she did not make it rhyme: “Mints, and bee balm, costmary, lavender, marigolds for sprains and wounds and their knitting; pennyroyal that will make stagnant waters fresher, and which sailors do cherish for that reason; cowslips for wine to warm the stomach; basil, thyme, and rosemary, rue, meadowsweet, the red yarrow and the white, sage, purslane, pimpernel—aye, all those and full half a hundred more, past my naming lest I were to sit half the day a-doing it.
    â€œGround they may be, or boiled, set in dishes to give food a toothsome flavor, made into sweetmeats, and wines . . . Ah”—she threw out her hands as if to gather all about her into her grasp, her face alight and eager as Grandma’s had been when she spoke of the mending of her china bits—“there be so much in this wide world that one can never come to the end of learning. And the goodness of the earth giveth all such richness beyond the thinking of men, who take ever and say not thanks. For they will not believe in thetruth—that man must be one with that which grows, and that which runs, even the four-footed, and that which spread its wings and makes a home place of the sky. Men slay without thought, dig and tear without feeling, cherish not the great, good gifts. Beware should they be, lest all this be at last reft from them.
    â€œHowever, these be solemn thoughts and not for guesting. Guesting be a time for feasting and making merry. Come, sit thee down and let us share together bread and wine, after the manner of good friends and folk-kin.”
    As she spoke, Tamar gathered up many of the things which were crowded on the long table, setting them elsewhere to clear a space. Judy moved to help her and picked up a box to set it away. But, before she put it down at the other end of the table, she bent her head to take a deep sniff.
    â€œPlease—what are these beads? They smell so good. Look, Holly—”
    She turned the box so Holly could see that it was indeed half full of red-brown beads. Some had been strung on thread and others rolled about loose. The scent of roses clung to the box.
    â€œAh, those,” said Tamar. “They be a pleasant fairing—something for maids to have for the wearing. Though there be those who turn their faces upon any matter of such, and say that to use them so be a sinful flaunting. Those be rose beads. Thee must gather the flowers when they be fullest, and take the petals to put together in a mortar and grind well, into a paste. This thou rollest into a bead and leave it to dry. It be one, then, such as this, which be also fashioned to layamongst one’s linens, giving them a pleasant smell.” She plucked out of a cupboard behind her a round brown ball which smelled of spice, a far more penetrating odor than the delicate one of the rose beads.
    â€œFor this thee takes a firm apple or, if there be such to hand, an orange out of Spain. In it thee sets stick cloves so tightly together that no bit of skin may afterward be seen. The