LITMIR.BIZ

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before the abbess and outlined his own completely impossible version of events:

      «I found part of an agreement between the Queen and the black magic master. The Queen was bewitched», he claimed firmly.

      She was given eternal life as a beautiful maiden, but the young man couldn’t determine from the mysterious agreement what she had given in exchange for her eternal life. A rather substantial part of the document was missing from the agreement. The document was torn at a most interesting place. Someone had barbarously torn off a palm-sized piece of the parchment. Judging by the size of the lost piece, it had been lost forever, but died honourably on the battlefield of body hygiene. The young man didn’t reveal his fantasy because he was scared.

      For clarification and verification, he needed to enter the palace.

      «I’ll need to go to the palace and see what’s happening there for myself», he insisted.

      The abbess was categorically opposed to that.

      «They won’t let you in! Firstly, you will not be allowed into the palace if you’re not there as a suitor, and if you enter as a potential suitor, you’ll disappear like the others, and I won’t see you anymore. Secondly, you won’t have time to discover anything because the guards will find out you’re a spy and execute you. But wait! I have an idea, something you can do! You’ll dress up like a nun!»

      «No», he began to yell.

      «Yes», she said. «It is not up for debate!»

      The young astrologer was led to the refectory because it was the most spacious room, where his presence wouldn’t offend the feelings of the holy sisters. The monastery had not had this much fun since its inception. The mother abbess couldn’t deprive the girls of this pleasure.

      The young man had a small beard. In order to make him look like a young girl, it had to be shaved off. The astrologer suffered most when a young nun, standing face to face with him, rose on her tiptoes and began to shave his rosy cheeks and plump upper lip. Losing her balance, she wobbled and fell into his chest. Since she had something to rest on, she let herself fall and didn’t want to let go until others, equally wishing to be in her shoes, pushed her aside. His silken beard was completely shaven from the young man’s face and he resembled a village simpleton, red as a rose – the girls burst out and vied with each other in their attempt to feel his shaven face. They didn’t calm down until all of them had touched him. The young astrologer was ready to sink into the ground, but the reenergizing romp gave him pleasure.

      Under muffed giggles, he was stripped to his underwear and the girls began dressing him in monastic robes. Each of the young nuns tried to touch his body, hold their fingers on his shoulder, or encircle his waist with their palms, pretending to take measurements. He refused to remove his underwear. They put a very prickly woollen shirt on him, then a brown hooded robe of undyed wool, and then a white bib and a girded leather belt with beads. They took away his boots. The nuns advised him to hide his legs – his feet were too masculine.

      The satisfied sisters showed their new novice to the abbess and she was very pleased.

      «Dear», the abbess admonished the young man, «The main thing is that you must not forget that you are mute!»

      The young man actually lost his voice for a moment:

      «Why mute?» he squeaked with surprise.

      «You have to be dumb, my dear, you have to!» she smiled. «The dress perfectly matches you, but once you open your mouth, you will be immediately exposed», she said.

      «How will I be able to find out anything if I’m mute?»

      «Observe, notice, analyse. Here’s a message to the Queen. I sometimes communicate with her and she recently asked me to give her a recipe for a light herbal sleeping drink. Have it. You can pass it to her. Now, farewell my dear. All the best», she said, and kissed him on the forehead, then made the sign of the cross.

      When he turned to leave, she lightly slapped him on the buttocks. He turned red like cancer and angrily glared at her, but she had already disappeared behind the gates.

      Unable to withstand the heat, the young man removed his woollen shirt in the nearest grove and remained in his trousers and robe; it immediately became easier to breathe.

      The road to the royal palace wasn’t long. Along the way, surprised peasants watched the tall, slender, broad-shouldered nun quickly walk the road to town with rapid, wide steps. ‘She’ waved ‘her’ arms. ‘Her’ flushed face was concentrated and if someone tried to talk to her, she shook her head and mumbled, though it was clear she understood everything perfectly.

      The old gatekeeper couldn’t understand what the young nun wanted, watching as ‘she’ twisted her arms to show her walking, bending low to the ground, blowing on ‘her’ hands, portraying knocks on her open left hand with her right fist, then making a pouring motion with the left hand towards the right. ‘She’ made a stirring motion like making tea, and mimed drinking it and falling unconscious. ‘She’ even lay snoring for a few seconds to make it more convincing.

      The gatekeeper replied:

      «I understood everything. You had a backache and could barely bend, making you perform your job poorly, and as a result your abbess reprimanded you, deciding that you eat too much and don’t work enough. Therefore you decided the best thing to do was to take poison».

      I do not know how the porter, and we, dear reader, it is clear that in fact wanted to show a young man, I poor nun gathered a wormwood, Motherwort and other herbs, dried, was crushed, brewed and drank and went to sleep quietly.

      The gatekeeper watched the nun with pleasure until ‘she’ slammed ‘her’ right hand on ‘her’ forehead and sharply picked up ‘her’ hem and lifted ‘her’ robe to the waist and, before the eyes of the amazed gatekeeper, pulled out the letter from the abbess from ‘her’ belt and smiled.

      The gatekeeper cautiously took the letter but when he saw the monastery seal, he immediately understood everything and ran down the stairs to the Queen’s chamber.

      The astrologer leaned against the wall and sighed with relief.

* * *

      He decided to sit in the kitchen, believing he’d be able to learn everything that would interest him from there. He easily located the kitchen from its smell. There he was warmly welcomed and served a plate of food. He sat at the table where the other servants and guards were having their dinner presently. The young nun, folding ‘her’ large hands in a prayerful gesture, moved ‘her’ lips for a few seconds and then grabbed a spoon, and scooped vigorously and noisily sucked the hot soup. The guards smiled and began to glance at the ‘girl’ with interest.

      After the dinner, the men silently gathered around the nun and the most impudent amongst them grabbed ‘her’ knee. The ‘nun’ was so surprised that her eyebrows few up under the hood. The next moment, this insolent guard slid down the wall to the floor, smiling blissfully at the same time. The rest now looked at ‘her’ respectfully and went about their business.

      The cook, plump like a donut, looked at her approvingly:

      «Very good, that’s the way! These men have gone absolutely bonkers. My dear, are you mute?» she nodded assiduously. «That’s okay, I’ll talk for the two of us. Today, I’m cooking the evening meal for the Queen».

      The order was received in advance because it was very difficult to find some of the ingredients. The experienced cook knew the recipes of simple dishes by heart: for example, candied chrysanthemums cooked in wine, and raspberries, dried under the moon and glazed with spring mountain breeze, which gave them a cool, fresh taste.

      To be served was wine, the glare of the full moon splashed on it, reflected by the icy mountain lake, and potted nightingale tongues, which had been soaked in a centenary storage in an oak barrel of cognac. There, the goblet of tongues in cognac was kept for three days in the hall on a harpsichord, where musicians, one after the other, continuously performed Vivaldi. The paste wiped through the thinnest of gold foil was served in gold thimbles garnished with petals of violets.

      Some of the recipes had to be

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