In which Edmund sails the Thames, his bottom is threatened, Black Arrow gets a lot of exercise, and Edmund gets a migraine.
The usual disclaimer: I do not own Blackadder or any associated characters, and historical figures just have to suck it up and deal with how I have treated them. If I did own Blackadder, you can be assured we would still be enjoying his exploits and laughing ourselves silly at Baldrick. ;-)
1565
Mary Queen of Scots, perhaps to spite the offer of Lord Dudley's hand in marriage two years earlier by Elizabeth, married Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley on 29th July. When the news arrived in London the court took its lead from the Queen, who shook her head and said Mary was not showing much wisdom.
"Nevertheless," she said, "She will enjoy our greetings and best wishes for a long and fruitful union."
That year was probably the closest thing to glorious Blackadder had experienced thus far in his life. He went riding with Elizabeth, he hunted with her, he sang to her, and in his own fashion and much to her amusement, danced with her. Though he did not have a seat on the Privy Council, she often talked over developments and decisions regarding foreign policy with him. This was not for her benefit; to the contrary, it was he who learned a great deal about the treaties, both written and unwritten, that England had with various nations. All in preparation, as he later might have admitted, for the time he would ascend the throne.
Perhaps he became too self-assured, or asserted himself too much. But the day came in autumn when Elizabeth's personal imp came to the fore. For all the familiarity he had with her, he still was her subject and she was still his Queen.
Thursday - Monday, 9th - 13th August, 1565
I always enjoyed the opportunity to get out of London. The stench of sewage and open fires and rotting things seen and unseen, normally unnoticed in the colder months, blossomed and flourished in the summer heat and became quite unbearable. And so it was I walked the grounds of Hampton Court Palace with a light heart. Today I was riding with Elizabeth. We were to ride the banks of the Thames far upstream, and at a particular spot meet one of her royal ships and have dinner aboard as we drifted back down to London where our horses would be waiting for us, having been brought back. I had planned to stay that night at the house in Billingsgate, and arranged for Baldrick to wait for me there.
After we ate we walked the deck, enjoying the fresh air and taking in the scenery. Elizabeth stopped at the railing near the bow.
"You know, Edmund," she said, "I've been thinking."
"Yes, madam?"
"Well, you know after Lord Dudley's wife died I thought I'd marry him, but then I knew if I did everybody would think I had her killed so that I could marry him. And when you came back, I thought I would marry you even though I had gone off adventurers."
Indeed? And how was a man to know these things?
"Had you heard after Mary of Scotland's husband Francis died I offered Dudley to her for a husband while you were gone?"
"I had heard something of the kind upon my return, now I think about it, ma'am."
"She didn't want him. I don't understand why."
"It could be because he had been your—favorite, madam. Perhaps she didn't want to deprive you of his company."
"Well, that was stupid. If she'd married him, I was figuring on eventually making her heir to my throne. But she's gone and married Lord Darnley, and together they have a pretty strong claim to it anyway. So now I need to marry a man of nobility in order to make sure they don't take the throne by a coup."
Was I about to be made an Earl? "Surely your Majesty is too kind," I said.
"No, I'm not. Dudley'll only be getting what I told him I would give him ages ago."
"Ah, he's for the chop, then?"
"No, silly Blackadder. I'm going to give him my hand in marriage."
For a moment I was speechless, then I found my tongue. I picked it up off the deck of the ship and dusted it off. "Well, quite, madam. No doubt you are doing as you see fit." I couldn't bring myself to say anything else, and we finished the voyage in silence. The Queen appeared to enjoy herself, and when we docked near Whitehall I debarked unnoticed.
The sun was low on the horizon when I rode down the Strand to what is now called Tudor Street, and toward home. When I came to where I should have turned toward my house, I didn't. Instead I made my way to the Knight and Swan, a tavern of less than honorable repute where I occasionally conducted business.
"Ah, Lord Blackadder!" The man behind the low wall seperating the tables from the door into his house greeted me with a smile. "Haven't seen you in a while."
"No indeed, William.. I'll have an ale. And after that, I'll have another."
I sat down in a dark corner and drank the ales down, then ordered two more. Somehow I ended up home, helping a young prostitute named Mollie off my horse. We managed to get inside and into my bed without waking Baldrick, who had quit waiting up for me with all the time I had been spending at court. Nevertheless, my servant was completely unphased when he woke me very early the next morning to inform me I had a caller.
It turned out to be the baby-eating Bishop of Bath and Wells, the Assistant Manager of the Bank of the Black Monks of St. Herod, and he had come to collect the thousand pounds the Black Monks had lent me exactly a year ago. He was not at all a pleasant man, and he grew even less pleasant when I told him I'd lost my wallet. I had no money, that was true enough. What was worse, he knew Mollie—quite well, it seemed, as one of his favorite "games" with her was Nuns and Novices. After reminding her to bring her wimple for the night's entertainment, he dragged me out of my bed and forced me to get dressed at sword-point.
I was harried to the cemetery where I was shown the tombstone of one of the Black Monks' ex-customers. " . . . Died 1563: in agony, with a spike up his bottom," I read.
"I think you . . . get my message," the Bishop said.
Even the cemetary's mad beggar hanging onto my leg couldn't distract me. "Yes, yes indeed," I said. I made a show of nonchalance by inspecting my nails. "But tell me, Bishop, let me test the water here, so to speak. Suppose I was to say to you something like, 'I'm a close friend of the queen's and I think she'd be very interested to hear about you and Mollie and the wimple, so why don't we just call it quits, eh, fatso?' "
The Bishop was unmoved. "I would say, firstly, the Queen would not believe you, and secondly . . . you'll regret calling me fatso, later on today." He wielded a red-hot poker in my direction.
"Ah." I wondered what fire he had pulled it from, and decided I didn't want to know.
"I will have my money by Evensong tonight or . . . your bottom will wish it had never been born." He disappeared into a cloud of smoke, coughing.
I wasn't sure my life could get much worse, but I was soon to find it could.
Back at the house later that morning, I took my problem to Percy and Baldrick. I then confessed, shamelessly I must admit, that I had not only spent the entire thousand pounds I had borrowed from the Black Monks last year, but not done a thing to save up so I could pay them off. And not only had I not saved any money to pay the loan, I had also pinched and spent all but eighty-five of the thousand pounds Percy had been saving, along with the two farthings Baldrick had stashed away.
My friends therefore could not help me. I told them I would think of something. I would have, too, had not a messenger arrived saying the Queen demanded my presence upon pain of death.
So upon pain of death I saddled and bridled my horse and tore down the streets to Whitehall, only to find it was her Majesty's idea of a joke to call me all the way across town and then pretend to forget why she had called me. And to tell the truth, I hoped to find she had changed her mind about Dudley.
"I do know why I wanted to see you, and I just pretended I didn't and I fooled you and it worked brilliantly, didn't it?" She was playing with me, and there was nothing I could do. I was the Queen's man, after all.
"It was terrific, madam. Thank God I wore my corset, because I think my sides have split. So why did you want to see me?"
"To crack the lovely joke."
Melchett was right there with her, studiously not laughing in my face while the Queen made a fool of me in front of the court. And then, to add insult to injury, she made me give him the last money I had in the world, my eighty-five pounds that were going to help toward the thousand I needed to repay the Black Monks.
The clock rang eight when I stormed in through my front door. Baldrick laughed at my anger. Percy, that bag of wild emotion, hugged me as if I'd been gone for a year.
"Edmund, oh Edmund, I have awaited your return." He wasn't letting go of me.
"And thank God you did," I said, "for I was just thinking, 'My God, I die in twelve hours. What I really need now is a hug from a complete prat.' " I pushed him off me and went to my room, where I poured myself a whisky. Percy followed me. Good thing, actually, or I might have followed the first drink with a second and been useless for the rest of the day and dead in the evening.
"But I fear not," he said, "for I have a plan to save the life of my dear, dear friend."
"Look, I'm not interested in your bloody friends. What about me?" I still hadn't learned. Fortunately for Percy, he thought I was joking.
He then informed me he was going to discover the art of turning base metals into gold, and that would solve my money crisis. Nothing I could say would deter him, and he left to begin his experiment.
It was then that Baldrick, ever practical, came up with the idea of going down to the docks and selling my favors. I was appalled.
"Baldrick? Are you suggesting that I become . . . a rent boy?"
"Well, a good-looking chap like you, posh accent, nice legs, could make a bomb. Just stick a pink carnation in your hat and make the old sign."
"I'd rather die."
"Oh, fair enough, that's all right then. I'll put the kettle on while we wait, shall I?"
That was about as angry as Baldrick had ever gotten; his even temperament was a gift in many ways. He was a far more effective friend to me than if he'd been an effusive mess like Percy. I took his idea and turned it on its head, and we went down to the docks. I won't go into detail; it really isn't important now what transpired, save to say the entire evening netted us sixpence. We were throwing around ideas on how to grow that little bit when another messenger came from the Queen.
"My lord, the Queen does demand your urgent presence on pain of death."
Again pain of death. Again I rode like a madman to Whitehall and ran down the corridors and was shown into the Queen's Privy Chamber. When I entered, she was walking to and fro before Melchett and Nursie, a frown on her face.
"Madam, you wished to see me . . . again."
"Yes, Edmund." She was addressing me by name, but my back was still tight. A fall from the Queen's favor could very well mean a final fulfillment of her years-long threat to remove my head from my shoulders, which were now as tight as my back. "I wanted to apologize for the silly trick I played on you."
"Ah."
"It was naughty and bad of me."
Nursie spoke rather sternly. "Indeed it was, my little rosebud, and if you weren't quite so big, it would be time for Mr and Mrs Spank to pay a short sharp trip to Bottieland."
"Thank you, Nursie," Elizabeth said, humbled. "And thank you, Edmund."
"That's all?" I had been expecting something far worse.
"Yes, thanks for coming." She held out her hand and rather than kiss it I shook it. I wasn't going to be so easily bought.
Then I turned, as the permission given me to walk away from her had not yet been revoked, and went to the door. As I opened it, they began to laugh. Melchett could not stand up and was sitting on the throne with his arm around Nursie.
"That was very funny too, wasn't it?" the Queen said.
I was beginning to feel a bit dazed. "My lady?"
"Dragging you all the way across town again just to say sorry for dragging you all the way across town the first time. It was Melchett's idea. I think it's wonderful, don't you?"
"It's fantastic. Melchett, I prostrate myself at the feet of the world's greatest living comedian." And I'm lying to your face, I thought.
"Oh, you are super, Edmund." Even the Queen thought I was being a good sport. "Oh, Edmund, I promised Lord Melchett that I would play shove ha'penny with him, but we have no coin. Do you have a ha'penny?"
"Unfortunately only a sixpence, madam. What a shame . . . "
"Oh no," she said. "A sixpence will do just as well."
"Oh, good."
I got back to Billingsgate to discover Percy had discovered "green" rather than gold, and had fumigated my house in the process.
Time was getting short and I had not one cent to show for my frantic efforts thus far. There was nothing for it; I would have to sell a house. I far preferred the place on Drury Lane and hated to let the Billingsgate property go; I had owned it since the early days of Henry VIII. After a few hours, it went to a wealthy but less than choosy couple for eleven hundred pounds. That was enough to pay the Black Monks, leaving me a hundred pounds to live off until I could find my way back into Elizabeth's affections and her pocketbook.
As I was to vacate in a week, I had not yet left the Billingsgate house, and was sitting at the table counting the money and insulting Percy unmercifully.
"The eyes are open, the mouth moves, but Mr. Brain has long since departed, hasn't he, Percy?"
. . . when the messenger returned yet again.
"Ah, messenger! Thank God you've come." Sarcasm is one of my gifts. "Percy and I could not have waited another second without you."
My poor horse was getting as tired as I was; however, it was his good fortune not to be suffering from a hangover. Yet again my mount thundered through the streets of London to Whitehall, and yet again I was hurried through the corridors to the Privy Chamber. It had already been a long day, and I was tired, dirty, and headachy when I rushed in.
The Queen, Melchett and Nursie were not in their usual places and I strode to the throne mystified.
"Majesty!"
They were behind me, behind the door.
"Thank God you've arrived," the Queen said. "Terrible news."
"What?" I asked.
"The French intend to invade, Blackadder."
"My God!" Bad news indeed, although the way things were going I would not be alive to see it.
"So I need some money."
Of course. I slumped against the throne. "Ah."
Melchett then spoke up. "Yes, every nobleman must pay £500 towards the upkeep of the navy."
"But we've decided to make you a special case," the Queen said.
"Oh, thank you, ma'am." Maybe I would come out of this better than I thought.
"Melchy here hasn't got a bean, so we thought since you're so fabulously wealthy, you could pay for both."
"It would be awfully sweet of you," Melchett said.
There is a downside to lying, and that is that the people to whom you lie may believe you. I had been spreading lies about my nonexistent wealth for so long they had come to be accepted as truth by all. Once again the Queen took everything I had. I was out of time; no amount of clever planning would rescue me now. I said my goodbyes, knowing I would either be dead or out of the country by the next day, and rode home to pack and run. Until Baldrick told me the Black Monks were everywhere and would follow me wherever I went. If they couldn't get their money back they would take my life.
Desperation is creativity's catalyst. It is amazing how the dread of dying will clarify one's thoughts. Within only a few minutes I had concocted a plan which, if successful, would solve all of my problems in one fell swoop. Unfortunately it involved Percy dressing in a vulgar costume and posing with the drugged Bishop while a starving artist named Leonardo Acropolis painted the "portrait", but I knew I could take advantage of Percy's willingness to do anything for me. I suffered a minor twinge when the Bishop's robes were removed; he was dirty even for those days. It took a couple of glasses of wine and a little prompting by Baldrick and myself, and then Percy was game.
Acropolis was good, as many starving artists are to this day. In very little time he produced several detailed sketches and one very large, life-like painting of the Bishop apparently involved in horrendous things with a young woman whose face was turned away from the painter. I didn't express my thankfulness to Percy for his efforts on my behalf as I ought to have done, and I believe that was one of the things that led to our final rift. But that is for another day.
When the Bishop woke, with a slamming headache thanks to the drugged wine and much to my delight, he was stunned by the painting and agreed to give me everything I asked for. In the end I got £5,100, 10 shillings and 3 pence. The Bishop was free to go and the painting went into a hollow in one of the walls of the house at Billingsgate.
Not only was my debt to the Black Monks cancelled, but I was able to buy back my house from Mr. and Mrs. Pants and pay for the two doors the Bishop had thrown Baldrick through. Funny thing about Baldrick and doors . . . he was always going through them before they were opened. I remember buying some books and a new saddle for my horse. The next night I treated Percy and Baldrick to supper at Mrs. Miggins' Pie Shop. We ate too much, we drank too much, and they brought me home and put me to bed.
The next morning I was walking gingerly about the house debating whether I should try to eat something when there was a knock at the door.
I leaned carefully on the table in the main room and looked up. "Who on earth could that be, on a Sunday?"
"I don't know, my lord, but we'll find out," Baldrick said and he opened the door.
There stood a messenger of the Queen. "My Lord Blackadder, the Queen does demand your presence—"
"Upon pain of death, I know," I finished for him.
He got a puzzled look. "No, my lord, to have dinner with Her Majesty and Lord Melchett at one of the clock after they attend worship service."
I sighed. "Very well, I'll be there." The young man stood in the door, unsure of what he should do and I beckoned him in. "Here." I scribbled a few lines on a sheet of paper and quickly sealed it with wax and my signet. "Take this to Her Royal Majesty the Queen." I gave him the note and Baldrick helped him out the door.
"Well, it's about eleven now, my lord. If we move you steadily, you should be ready in time."
I waved a hand limply in the air and then settled it on my pounding head. "Yes, Baldrick, I'm not sure I'm ever going to be ready for the Queen."
He laughed and went to heat water for my bath.
The Gentleman Usher saw me into the Privy Chamber promptly at a quarter to one of the clock. My head ached so badly that my knees were a bit wobbly, but I was sure the Queen never saw me trembling as I carefully bowed and took the seat I was beckoned to. Melchett was there, of course, and he and the Queen were deep in conversation that seemed to involve me only at sporadic intervals. I made the appropriate noises and ate as little as I possibly could, out of fear that I might be sick all over the Queen's damask. I failed to notice we had a guest, so distracted was I by the pain in my head.
"Edmund, how can you be so impolite? Melchett and I have been talking to you, and Sir John has asked you the same question three times."
"Please forgive me. I'm afraid I'm not feeling well." I inclined my head to the man sitting opposite me at table. He was deeply tanned with dark hair and blue eyes that had spent too much time squinting at a tropical sun. The Queen had said earlier he was a sea captain, Sir John Hawkyns. And something about going into business with him, too—renting him a ship or something, for his next voyage.
"No offense taken," the man said in a deep voice. "I was only remarking that I thought you might be interested in learning of the tobacco and potato I have brought back with me."
"Tobacco?" I repeated the strange word slowly. "What is that, pray tell?"
"It is the leaf of a plant that grows quite tall in the West Indies," Hawkyns said as he leaned back, quite happy to have secured the attention of all at table. "The natives pluck the leaves and dry them, then break up the dried leaves, which they put into a utensil called a pipa, catch fire to it so that it smolders, and inhale the fumes."
I took another small bite of roast venison and chewed thoughtfully, then had a sip of wine. "It sounds like something the savages would do." I didn't think to mention to him my travels to what is now Australia and Papua New Guinea, or the way Captain Rum had been stewed and eaten.
He laughed, taking my serious demeanor for timidity. "Oh, come, sir! I have tried it myself and find it invigorating."
I remembered then who he was and why I did not like him. On the same voyage where he had discovered tobacco and the potato, he had hijacked a Portuguese slave ship and sold the hapless Africans in Santo Domingo. Three hundred souls had been traded like so many bales of silk, and all for the profit of his London investors. I wondered how much of this Elizabeth knew.
"Ah." I pulled a piece of bread from the loaf in front of me and toyed with it, not having the appetite to even sop up the venison juices on my plate. "Well, I must remember to try some at my next opportunity."
"You can do so any time," Hawkyns said. "I have given a small bundle of the dried leaves to her majesty's physician."
I wanted dearly to curl up and die. The headache had gone from simple hangover into what I am sure now was a migraine, or as we called them then, a megrim. It certainly had me feeling grim. And then I began to see black spots—I was in serious danger of passing out. As much as I hated to appear weak, I stood up to excuse myself.
"Majesty, have I your permission to leave? I'm afraid I am decidedly unwell . . ."
"Oh Blackadder, you're white as a sheet! I should have noticed, but then I've been thinking about the Jesus of Lubeck and Sir Hawkyn's next voyage." She shooed me toward the door. "Go see Marbeck, he will give you a powder."
I managed to leave the room gracefully, but once in the corridor leaned against the wall and prayed I would not faint. In my sick condition it was all I could do to make it to Marbeck's rooms. All the while I was walking there, leaning heavily with one hand against the cool stone, I kept thinking there was something about Lubeck I should be concerned about, but couldn't think what it might be.
Marbeck pulled me into his room and sat me down on a cushioned chair. "You look like death, Blackadder."
I couldn't lift my head to look at him; the candles on the desk were knives of light piercing my eyes. Marbeck drew his chair over in front of me and sat down, lifting my my head to look into my eyes.
"Have you eaten anything strange?" By that he meant, had I eaten anything that had not been served to the Queen, and already tested for poison.
"No." My voice sounded strangled. "It's just my head."
"Not all poisons give you a belly-ache, you know," Marbeck said quietly as he pushed me gently back in the chair. "Can you undo your doublet, or shall I?" I lifted one hand and waved him on. With deft fingers he had the doublet and my shirt unbuttoned and then put a hand on my chest.
"Try to be quiet, can you?" he asked and he put his ear to my chest and listened. It was then I realized that I had been moaning from the pain, and I did my best to stop.
"Dizzy? But not sick to your stomach?" He sat back and buttoned my shirt but left my doublet open.
I nodded yes and no and then yes again when he asked if I was feeling cold.
"This looks like migraine, Blackadder. Can you stand to walk?" Together we got me up and he steered me to a couch, where I laid down.
"You won't be going home tonight, I'm afraid. Is your man waiting for you?" Meaning, of course, Baldrick, who was not.
I shook my head slightly. "Horse."
"I don't think he'll be happy to hear you've spoken of him like that," Marbeck joked from his table where he mixed something in a goblet. Physicians have not changed in five hundred years; they still seem to think if they are funny it will lessen your pain. I remember him lifting my head and saying, "Drink this up. It's bitter, isn't it? The whole thing, thank you. And I will see you in the morning, God willing."
I awoke to the smell of spiced apples and bread toasting over the fire, along with some other odor I could not place. I opened my eyes and there was Marbeck, in a dark green robe and a much abused cap, standing at the table with a plate.
"Lord Blackadder!" He moved quickly to pull the curtains over a window where the sun was shining brightly in. "How are you this morning?"
I took a deep breath. The pain was gone, and I felt as loose-jointed and languid as a newborn babe. With care I pulled myself up to a sitting position and looked around me to see where I was, then back at the doctor.
"I seem to be quite well," I said, "and somewhat hungry."
"Good!" He hastened over to me and put the plate in my lap. "Eat this. And—" he brought another goblet and set it on the table at my elbow— "drink this." The plate held slices of toasted bread with something brownish on it.
Now, I appreciate good food, but I'm really not the most adventurous man when it comes to trying new things; I never have been. But I didn't think Marbeck, who was barely thirty at the time, was going to kill the Queen's favorite. He had nothing to gain from it and everything to lose. So I took a bite of the toasted bread and chewed.
"Eat the whole piece. That's a paste of roasted apples with honey added."
I obediently ate the toast and licked my fingers, then took the goblet and looked into it. The liquid was dark and warm, but it was not spiced wine or ale. I sniffed the contents, waited a moment and then sniffed again. Whatever it was, it was not unpleasant smelling.
"What is this, Doctor?" If I used his title he might be more willing to tell me what it was he had given me. If I knew Marbeck, nothing he gave anyone was meant to have anything but a restorative effect.
"Now, that," he said, quite pleased with himself, "is something I brought back from France a few years ago when I went to study with old Paré. His ideas on medicine are most advanced, did you know? Well, a friend of his had been to the Holy Land and brought him back some roasted seeds from a plant they call kawa, or kaveh. It seems the Mohammedans grind these seeds and pour hot water on them, then drink the resulting infusion. Doctor Paré found it most exilarating, and was kind enough to send a bag home with me."
He sat on the edge of his table. "Of course I had to see for myself. After careful experimentation I discerned that the beverage you are about to drink—oh yes, you are—" (for I had begun to shake my head) "—the beverage you are going to drink, Blackadder, will aid you greatly in recuperating from your migraine."
"But I feel fine," I objected.
"That was your first migraine, wasn't it? Tried to stand up yet?" Marbeck crossed his arms and smiled.
"No . . . "
"Please, Lord Blackadder. Drink the kava before it gets cold."
I obediently drank the entire contents of the goblet. It was slightly bitter, and had a flavor that reminded me of smoke and earth and nuts all at once. And Doctor Marbeck was right; I began to feel better, and was soon able to get up and move around. I fastened my doublet and buckled my sword around my hips.
"How can I repay you?" I asked as I put one hand on the door.
He looked at me carefully. "I am physician to her majesty the Queen. I doubt you can give me anything more valuable than your friendship."
This warmed me to the man. In all the years I had been with Elizabeth, I had never had need of his services, and so had only the barest acquaintance with him. I bowed.
"Very well, sir. When next I call upon the Queen, I shall visit you as well."
He smiled. "I should be pleased."
The chamberlain had my hat. The Queen was no where to be found, so quite probably doing paperwork or meeting with a foreign official of state. I found my horse had spent a warm night in the stables and was more than ready for the ride home. Baldrick welcomed me with no questions asked, although I knew he was curious. I was, for once, more than happy to tell him about my time with Marbeck and his wonderful medicines.
Hello, dear readers! I wanted to express my thanks for the IMs and constructive criticisms I have received thus far, and to apologize if I have missed anyone in replying. It being so near Christmas, the ball of gelatin in my skull that passes for a brain of late has been quite occupied—but I am happy to be able to update before the 25th.
It is popularly believed that Sir Francis Drake brought the lowly potato to England in 1580, but there are some who say Sir John Hawkyns is the man who introduced the potato, earlier than Drake (who captained his own ship in association with Hawkyns for several decades). Sir John Hawkyns really existed and was, among other things, a slave-trader. I have taken liberties with his time-line, as the Jesus of Lubeck, with Hawkyns as captain, sailed from Plymouth in 1564 and did not return until October of 1565. Tobacco was introduced to Europe long before Hawkyns claimed in my story to have brought it, and, along with coffee, chocolate, and other old/new world discoveries, was used medicinally before taken as refreshment. Coffee and chocolate were served cold. I couldn't give Blackie a cold drink after his migraine though, so had Marbeck serve his coffee hot. :-) Marbeck really existed and was, for his time, well-up on the most current medical discoveries and treatments.
Please review—reviews make me feel good!—and thanks again for reading. :-D