The Herbalist's Apprentice - Catching the Mandragora
"Attach your twine to the top of this sapling, Fintan, and don't crash about," said he.
He took a carefully wrapped parcel from his bag. From it came a small pot with a lid. He took off the lid and blew, soon there were sparks flying onto one of the torches. He quickly had two torches going while I was still fumbling about trying to tie the twine to the tree, which kept springing up out of my hands.
Nevli found the mandragon plant in the undergrowth. He had previously marked it with a tiny cloth tied to a stick. The long, smooth leaves of last season had died back, spread flat on the ground. But it was the root he was after. He stuck the torches in the ground and cleared the dead undergrowth back from around the plant, muttering things I could not make out.
"Come here Fintan" he said. I had given up trying to catch the end of the whiplash tree and get a knot on it.
"Sit down and I'll tell you about this plant, Mandragora. I came here and took flowers from this plant in the time of rain. You sniffed the dried petals at Castledore and smelt apples. When I came then, I put a small collar on the top of rootstock."
I remembered only too well. The apple aroma of the dried flowers was heaven; I nodded.
"The mandragora has many uses, it brings a deep sleep to those in pain but too much will poison. It can dispel sadness and it is used to help bring children to a stubborn womb. Some say that its use by mothers-to-be will bring them a changeling. Now is the time we harvest it, but first we have to ask it to prepare." I knew how carefully the old man harvested his plants. 'The gifts of the earth mother must always be respected', is what he said.
We sat down on the chill ground in the flickering torch light. I shivered as the cold air reached through my clothes.
 "Do what I do, follow me in," said Nevli, pointing at the plant. He sat with his back straight and shut his eyes. I could see Nevli's face muscles relax in the flickering light. I sensed his deep relaxation as he stilled his breath and mind to the task. He had shown me how to see the plants we collected with in inner eye - and ask them questions. "Concentrate your energies on the plant," said Nevli, as I fidgeted, huddling to myself for warmth. I stilled my mind from my questions, and looked at the top of the mandrake. All I could see were glimpses of a lighter shade of dark, illuminated by the torches, a flickering.
I shut my eyes to concentrate; I had seen mandrake roots before, hanging in the herb store at Castledore. They hung on a wooden beam, bunches of mini human torsos, legs ending in single rooty toes. I pictured what the plant in front of me would look like underground. Its legs reaching out, pushing aside the soil as they grew thicker with the rich nutrients. Feathery roots stuck out, lacing through the surrounding dirt, collecting moisture and minerals.
The plant rested in the soil, its life drawn in to the rootstock that would see it through the rest of winter. It felt ready. I sensed the circlet placed there by Nevli, on the crown of the mandrake. The deal had already been struck. I opened my eyes slightly to see a mist forming above the plant.
"Show yourself, Spirit of the Mandragora," said Nevli. "I come to collect on what we have agreed."
A picture formed in my mind. It was a warrior, a healthy young man, dressed in a strange tunic and a helmet, with wings at its sides.
'I hear you,' impressed itself on me. 'I hear the promise you make, that you will remove me from the ground and use me to aid your kind. Give me a short moment to withdraw my energies and release the ground. Also assure me that you will carefully plant my crown so that I may live still in this place'.
I felt the warm assurance flow from Nevli to the plant spirit to confirm the arrangement. The image faded and I opened my eyes to see a tiny wisp dissipate into the damp air.
"I'm getting too old for this sort of thing, son," muttered Nevli as he stood up slowly, his knees cracking as he walked over to the sapling, holding his hip and limping.
"Come over here Fintan, and tie this on". He groaned slightly as he pulled down the whiplash. I wrapped twine around the top and attempted to tie a knot. Nevli stepped in muttering and completed it, I took over holding the sapling.
"Just go get one of the torches and hold it so I can see", he sounded impatient. I let go of the branch, which swished up into the air, snatching the plaited twine from his hand.
"Blast you Fintan," he cussed while I came back with a torch and we started again. This time we did it.
 "OK, over here with the torch now," ordered Nevli, pointing to an older tree. He cast about on the ground and came up holding a stick, the span of two man's hands. Taking a knife from his top, he shaped it, skinning off the bark in long strips. He up-ended the stick on a rock and chopped, sharpening its tip. Then he cut a niche at the other end, and returned with it to the mandrake plant. I followed with the light.
Near to the plant, and in line with the tree, he pushed the stake into the ground, slanting it towards the plant. I watched as he took a rock and hammered the stick firm into the ground. Then Nevli took a small metal fork from his bag, and gently dug into the earth around the mandrake, taking care not to touch it at any point. He worked the outside of a circle round the plant, carefully spiralling inwards, humming quietly to himself, while I stood lighting his way. He attached twine to the top of the plant, clipping it onto the root-ring somehow, I didn't quite see.
He stood and took the sleeve of my jerkin, pulling me over to the sapling. I pulled it down and held it while the herbalist attached the twine from it to the stake. He took the branch from me and slowly let the stake take the strain. It held fast, the energy of the tree captured and anchored. Then the final knot, from the root to the twine attached to the stake. We backed away.
"Put these in your ears Fintan," said the herbalist, handing me two small plugs of moss. I complied. Nevli then gave me a large rattle on a stick from his carry sack, and put plugs in his own ears.
"When I tell you," said the herbalist, exaggerating his words, "shake the rattle until I stop you. We must not hear the scream as the Mandragora leaves the ground. Come and stand just here," he pointed. The light of the torches was dimming.
He then laid out twine attached to the stake, and he kneeled down the span of four men away, I stood next to him. He told me to shake the rattle, and I set up a noise like a storm of hail on a roof. Nevli tugged the twine, which unwrapped the slipknot on the stake. The desire of the birch to return to its own position tugged the root swiftly out of the ground, to dangle exactly at his shoulder height.
"Bring that torch boy!" shouted the herbalist excitedly, "and stop that rattling". He took the plugs from his ears and I put down the rattle and did likewise. Nevli took a black sack from his bag, and unsheathed his knife. He put the open neck of the bag around the dangling plant and held it firmly. With the knife he sliced up against the metal collar and the root dropped from his hand into the sack.
 The Goddess in the land. A unique novel set in the Valley of the River Fowey. An ancient matrix of energy lies hidden in the earth, its existence and purpose all but forgotten. One strand, named The Dragon Line passes by Lostwithiel in Cornwall, a land steeped in history and mystery since the dawn of time.
A lone ghost, Fintan, is abandoned in the valley of his birth. He tells how the line of essential energy has been usurped, unbalancing the whole planetary energy matrix. In The Lily, the first novel of an extraordinary trilogy, he tells his tale of 2000 years in the Fowey valley. He sets a crucial task, to mend the Dragon Line and restore the balance of power, before time itself runs out.
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Images with thanks to:
http://ise.uvic.ca/Library/SLT/images/mandrakeOld.jpg
http://www.antoranz.net/CURIOSA/ZBIOR2/C0305/12-QZC05088_QCP05092-06-108_Mandragora.jpg
http://www.holoweb.com/cannon/images/Mandragora_officinarum.jpg
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