The King’s Healer

King Francis coughed into his handkerchief for the fifth time in a row. His face was flush from the outburst, but not as bright as the blood that covered the cloth in his hand. King Francis was dying, as he had been for some time now. 

“Fetch Claston for me my boy!” Francis yelled through coughs at his son, Prince Cedric. 

Cedric scoffed but obeyed his father the king. He always thought that Claston was a crook, that he was filling his father’s head with false hopes and feeding him elixirs of broken promises. However, his father was the king, and Claston was an old friend, he could never convince him otherwise. 

He exited the throne room and scolded the guards to watch his father closely. While he wanted nothing more than to be king, he didn’t want it to come at the price of his father’s life. 

Claston sat in his apothecary, mixing a new potion, when Cedric burst through the door. 

“Father needs you, he’s coughing up blood again. Whatever you gave him last time didn’t help, so you better have a better idea in mind. I swear to the Three Gods, if he doesn’t get better after whatever nonsense you feed him this time, your head will roll.”

Cedric left, but not before knocking over a couple of glass vials and shattering them all over the floor. 

“Foolish child,” Claston said as he sat up and grabbed the new potion he had been crafting before walking to the throne room. 

“Your Grace, this will stop the coughing and the bleeding. Take a sip now and a sip every fourth hour until the vial is gone.”

“Ah Claston, my friend, I owe you my life. I know my time is not long, but if not for you it would have long since expired. The Three Gods will have words with you in your future for postponing my time with them.” 

Francis laughed and coughed, and then sipped from the vial as blood from his lips mixed with the liquid inside. 

Claston knew he was only delaying the inevitable, that King Francis was short of time on this earth.

In time, King Francis fell to his sickness. Prince Cedric would become King Cedric and Claston’s entire life would change. 

“You have requested my presence, Your Grace? And might I say, I am terribly sorry for your loss. Your father was a great friend of mine.”

“Claston, do not waste my time with your false condolences. You did not care for my father one bit. Your promises and fake cures did nothing to help him. As a fact, I am not yet convinced that they did not make anything worse! My father loved you and trusted you, but yet he now sits with the Three Gods instead of with us here.”

“Your Grace…”

“Silence! I do not care to hear your excuses and continued false words. I promised my father I would see that you were taken care of before he passed, and that is the only reason you will not face death. I will not break the final promise I made to that man, I am not a crook like you. Instead, you will no longer be the court healer, in fact, you will no longer be a healer. From this moment forward, you are to go to the bottom levels of the castle and work with the servants. Am I understood!”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“You will see that your apothecary is already closed and your equipment destroyed. You may take your leave and I hope to never see you in this throne room again.”

Six years passed, and not once did Claston return to the throne room in the castle. Over those six years, he heard of how Cedric’s wife Meredith gave birth to an heir that came out blue and cold. He heard about the birth of Cedric’s first daughter Azalea. He heard of the birth of Prince Francis, the second of his name. He heard of how Meredith and his daughter Azalea fell to The Fever. He knew he could have helped, and it hurt him deeply he was never allowed. 

In his time with the servants, Claston discovered they were of those in the castle most in need of healing, for the doctors would not see them. Sickness tore through the servants with no mercy. The Fever would claim a child a week it seemed. Seeing the pain and loss the servants went through made Claston vow to help.

Over the six years, Claston would regain some of the materials he had used to heal, in hopes of helping the servants. However, he knew that if he were to make potions and pass them out among the servants, words of his healing would make it back to King Cedric, which would all but guarantee his death. Claston needed a way to give these people the healing they deserved, but inconspicuously. It was then that Claston realized he could use tea to deliver his potions. 

Tea was so common in the castle that servants drank it daily, although only the lowest quality tea was made available to them. Simply infusing the tea leaves with ingredients from the potions would allow servants to drink the potions without anyone the wiser. Claston was elated upon this thought and set out on his work immediately. 

Clara, a servant who had come down with a case of Pox would be the test run. Pox had a high mortality rate for those who could see a doctor. But servants who couldn’t bribe enough to be seen wouldn’t see the end of even a mild case of the Pox. 

Claston had long ago developed a cure for the Pox in the form of a potion, and was eager to see if it would translate into his tea concoction. Even though Claston would have long ago been able to rid the castle of the Pox, he was never allowed.

“My friend, the Pox are a test from the Three Gods,” King Francis had told Claston once. “We cannot allow for the servants and anyone who is not of noble blood to escape this test. The Three Gods do not need to test us. That is why we’re noble my friend! We passed those tests before birth.”

Francis had been a great friend, but his nobility clouded his judgment and reasoning at times. Gold around the head poisons the mind with thoughts of grandeur. Claston had always thought that. But now, maybe he could do something about the Pox. Claston spent all night preparing the ingredients and set out for Clara immediately upon its completion. 

“Hello Clara, I heard you have come down with the Pox and I thought I would bring you some special tea to alleviate your troubles,” Claston said bluntly as he set the steaming cup down on the box next to her sleeping area. 

“T’ank ya Claston. T’er wasn’t a need for ya to be so kind ta me. Special I ‘urd ya say?”

“Yes, it’s a new brew I have developed myself specifically for those with the Pox. I think that it will make you feel much better. Drink it and please make sure to fetch me tomorrow to tell me how it was!”

“Y’er a good ‘un Claston. The T’ree Gods will look kindly.”

The following day, Claston was writing down ideas for news teas when he was suddenly swept from his feet. Startled, Claston was relieved to see it was none other than Clara, looking full of color and life.

“T’at tea was amazing! Special tea! Fixed me right up good! ‘Ave any more?!”

“Oh my, I am elated to see you are feeling better! You do not need any more of the tea, that I promise, but please if anyone else has the Pox please send them my way for some and I will gladly give it to them!”

Clara hugged Claston tight and ran off. Before he knew it, Claston had a line of Pox-riddled servants at his door. 

“Drink this and rest my friend. Return here tomorrow.” Claston had repeated this phrase more times than he could remember to those lined up at his door. 

The next day, Claston was bombarded by servants thanking him for the tea. 

“T’ank you Claston!”

“Y’er tea saved ma boy!”

“Tea fix more t’an just them Pox sir?”

Claston knew the tea would work for other sicknesses and ailments now that all the Pox cases in the servant quarters had been eliminated. But now he wanted to make sure that he would be able to help no matter what the problem was, just as he had six years ago. 

Over the years, word spread around the castle that a healer lived amongst the servants. Claston had prepared tea after tea, fixing the sickness and injuries of the servants for some time, it was inevitable, and it would not be long before it would reach the ears of the king. 

After nearly nine years of living among the servants, Claston would find himself in the throne room once again. 

“Claston, you have gotten old,” Kind Cedric said as Claston walked into the throne room. “Some nine years ago I told you to never heal again after the death of my father, and I believe I remember saying I never wanted to see you in this throne room ever again. I am not mistaken am I?”

“No, Your Grace.”

“Then what is this I hear of miracle teas in the servant's quarters?”

“Your Grace, please, I could not sit by and watch as…”

“Please Claston, do not waste your breath. I, the king, gave you orders and you disobeyed them, and you knew at what cost. You have always been an old fool…”

“Your Grace…”

“Claston, let me finish, you have always been an old fool, but I was a young one. Fatherhood has made me weak. I now see what my father saw when staring at our own mortality. Claston, I was young and angry that the Three Gods took my father away from me and I blamed you. I took it out on you and I greatly apologize. I took nine years from you and I ask you, deeply, to forgive me for that wrongdoing. Youth is a sickness of which old age is the cure. My boy, Francis, is sick. Do you have it in your heart to help a father?”

“Your Grace, you took from me so much. For a long time, I was angry. I only ever wanted to help the sick and care for those in need. If I was here all those years ago, I could have helped Azalea and Meredith…”

“Watch your tongue Claston, for while I am showing you kindness, do not mistake me for a coward.”

“Your Grace, please let me finish this time. If I had been here all those years ago, I could have helped Azalea and Meredith. But I am here now, and I would like nothing more than to help you and your boy.”

Claston would heal Prince Francis of none other than the Pox; A sickness his friend, King Francis, refused to let him eradicate all those years ago. 

After witnessing his child close to death, King Cedric would not make the same mistake. Cedric would reinstate Claston as the court healer, with his first order to cure the kingdom of the Pox.