There are herbs to heal and herbs to harm, sometimes both — herbs to bring about love, he’d asked his mistress once with all the dull accusation he could manage, and she’d tossed her head, amused, no. It’s his business now to stay and tend her garden — he doesn’t mind that so much, it isn’t that different from chores at the monastery except that some of the plants blister his fingers, or stain his hands with scent for days. Little flowers as bright as the Virgin’s veils or as red as blood; leaf and root and stem together, plucked up, dried.