sentence was a struggle, but I refused to give up. I had been a lackluster student, but I would remedy that with hard work.
Elizabeth gently closed the cover. “You cannot expect to cure him on your own.”
“Why not?” I demanded. “Someone has to.”
My eyes strayed to the bookshelf that concealed the secret passage to the Dark Library.
“You have been here all day,” she said. “You can’t simply abandon Henry.”
I sighed. “I am sorry if Henry feels abandoned, but there are so many books here to understand…”
“Go riding,” she suggested. “You will get gloomy if you spend any more time here. Take Henry up into the meadows for an hour or two.”
I looked forlornly at my desk. “Just a short break,” I said.
So Henry and I changed into our riding gear and took our horses out for several hours. And I did enjoy the sunlight and air on my face, even as I felt guilty leaving Konrad in his sickbed.
As I neared home, I dared to hope.
When I saw Mother and Father, they would be smiling, and saying that Konrad’s fever had broken for good and he was on the mend and all would be well.
But it was not so. He was the same.
The very next day, a second physician accompanied Dr. Lesage to see Konrad. He was a handsome, fashionable-looking gentleman called Dr. Bartonne, who exuded confidence like an overpowering cologne. I disliked him on sight.
He strode into the room, took one look at my brother, and said he had a disturbance of the blood. Therefore he needed to be bled. The physician placed slimy leeches all over my brother’s pale body and let them suck his blood until Konrad swooned. The fellow was greatly satisfied, and announced that he had purged Konrad of the poisons that had caused the fever, and that when my brother woke in the morning, he would feel weak but improved.
It was true that he was cooler that night-who would not be cooler after having most of his blood sucked away by leeches? Nonetheless we all had great hope that this would speed his recovery.
Come morning, however, the fever returned once more. Dr. Bartonne was summoned yet again. After he left, I went to seek out Mother to ask what he’d said. Walking along the upper hallway, I overheard her talking to Maria in the west sitting room.
I stopped before I reached the doorway, for I could tell from Maria’s hushed tones they were talking about something terribly serious.
“… might be of some help,” Maria was saying, “for many say there is great power in it.”
“You love him, as we all do, Maria,” Mother replied. “But you know that Alphonse cannot bear talk of alchemy. He thinks it primitive nonsense, and I am inclined to agree with him. Please do not speak of this to him.”
“Very well, ma’am,” said Maria.
“I know you mean well, Maria. Do not think me angry.”
“No, ma’am. It’s just, I overheard what the doctor said about… not knowing how to treat him, and how, if he continues to weaken…”
My blood congealed in my veins, and I strained to listen. What had the doctor said? But there were no more words spoken, only sniffing, and little sobs, and I sensed the two of them were embracing and comforting each other. Then came my mother’s voice, a little shaky.
“You are a dear, dear member of our family, Maria,” she said.
“I could not love him more were he my own son.”
“We are doing all we can. Alphonse has heard of another doctor, a Dr. Murnau, who’s a specialist in rare diseases at the university in Ingolstadt. We’ve sent a messenger to make inquiries.”
“I will keep praying, then, ma’am,” said Maria, “if that does not offend you.”
“Of course not, Maria, certainly not. I must confess, I have found myself praying too of late. I doubt anyone hears but myself, though.”
“With respect, ma’am, someone is listening. You mustn’t despair so.”
I turned and silently walked away down the corridor, for I did not want them to know I’d been eavesdropping.
I desperately wished I knew what Maria had said earlier, about alchemy.
Did she know of some treatment that might help Konrad?
That night as I slept, my mind took me to Father’s library, and there I sat, surrounded by medical books, struggling with Latin and Greek, striving to cure Konrad.
I turned a page and there, embedded in the thick paper, was a seed. With great excitement I plucked it out and cradled it in my cupped hands, for I knew I had to plant it immediately or it would perish. But the door to the great hallway was locked, and though I rattled it and shouted, no one came to open it.
My panic grew, for the seed was already starting to decay.
There was a stirring of air, though no windows were open, and I looked up across the library to see the secret door ajar.
I’d promised Father, but what else could I do? The seed had to be planted, and I knew there was a well, and water, and earth down there.
The seed gripped in my hand, I hurried through the door to find no splintered planks but a swirling marble staircase. At the bottom, bathed in impossible sunlight, was the well, surrounded by fragrant and fertile soil.
I dug a small hole with my hands and planted the seed. Almost at once a green tendril shot up, thickening and sending out slender branches-and from the branches dangled little white bones.
I was frightened by this and stepped backward, but I could see that, growing among the bones, there was also fruit-red and luscious. And from the highest branch-for the tree was already taller than me-blossomed a book.
I started to climb up, but the tree kept growing, taking the book higher still.
I climbed faster, and with increasing desperation and rage, knowing that I must have that book.
But I could not reach it.
“We must return to the Dark Library,” I said fiercely.
It was the morning after my dream, and we were hiking in the hills behind Bellerive-Elizabeth, Henry, and me. The day could not have been more beautiful. An unblemished blue sky spanned the white-capped mountain ranges encircling the lake. Everywhere things were growing: Wildflowers sprang from the fields, trees bloomed, new leaves unfolded from branches. Life everywhere-and Konrad trapped at home in his sickbed.
“For what purpose, Victor?” Elizabeth asked.
“So we can heal Konrad,” I said simply.
“Isn’t that best left to the doctors?” said Henry.
“Damn the doctors!” I said. “They’re little more than barbers with pills. I wouldn’t trust them to groom my dog! Konrad’s getting weaker by the day. We must take action.”
“Action?” said Henry. “What manner of action?”
“For someone whose imagination is so ripe, you can be a bit dim sometimes, Henry,” I said. “We must seek our own cure.”
Elizabeth looked genuinely shocked. “Victor, we made your father a promise-,” began Elizabeth.
“That he would never find us in the library again. Yes. Those were his exact words. I don’t intend to break that promise. He will not find us in it.”
“That is not what he meant, and you know it!”
I waved my hand impatiently. “There is learning in there that has not been tried.”
Henry nervously rubbed at his blond hair. “Your father said it was all rubbish.”
I snorted. “Think, you two. Those books were kept hidden because they scared people. Why? There must be something to them, some kind of power. Silly, harmless things do not scare people.”
“But what if they are harm ful?” Elizabeth asked.
“What options do we have left to us?” I demanded. “Shall we watch Dr. Bartonne apply leeches once more? Or dead doves? Or perhaps we can ask dear Dr. Lesage to scratch at his wig and mix the dust with another vial of Frau Eisner’s invigorating tinctures.”
