Chapter 14

"Monsieur," a merchant called for d'Artagnan's attention. The man was short, bald, with a belly that hung over the waistband of his apron. He stood behind a narrow cart that was filled with nuts and candied almonds. Several children gathered around and handed him their coins in exchange for handfuls. They sprinted away with their prizes and laughed. Again, the man motioned for d'Artagnan to view his goods, and even try one for free. It was a common ploy, and one the farm boy from Gascony had fallen prey to more than once.

Aramis looked at d'Artagnan as he took a sudden right turn, pulled a few sous from his bag, and smiled with a nod when he was handed a cloth bag filled with almonds.

"Do you want one?" d'Artagnan asked and opened the bag. He could smell the sweet fragrance of the slow roasted nuts, hinted with cinnamon, smothered in cooked butter, honey, and coated with sugar. He bit one in half, looked at the pale center, and then quickly popped the rest into his mouth. "It's good." He groaned in delight.

"I," Aramis said, "am headed to that booth." He pointed toward the woman he had seen earlier. He rubbed his nose with the side of his finger, pushed his shoulders back, and then placed his hands on his belt.

D'Artagnan sighed and narrowed his eyes. "We need to collect the gift for the queen."

"If I'm not at Monsieur Isnard Ramus' business in…" he patted his pockets and winced. He pointed toward the sun and said, "When the sun is this far," he raised his hands and spread them with the width of his foot, "from the top of that tree." He pointed toward the pine beyond the stables. "Then come find me — unless the old man next to that raving beauty is her husband," Aramis cocked an eyebrow, "which I doubt he is, then I should still be there." He quickly tugged at the ends of his mustache and then smoothed a cupped hand along his beard.

"From this very spot?" d'Artagnan said. He ate another almond and pointed toward his feet. "We do not need to get chased out of town, Aramis, because you overstepped with someone's daughter or wife."

Aramis huffed. "I'm not that foolish." He suddenly winced and reconsidered his words. "I know my duty."

D'Artagnan, unaware of Aramis' slip, shrugged and rolled his eyes. "I'm going to hold you to that." With his candied almonds in hand, he walked toward a merchants' tables to view his goods.

Aramis smiled, clapped his hands together, and walked to the cart. It was the fragrances that hit him first, sweet unfamiliar scents that tantalized his senses, and cleared his head. He stepped forward, looked at the display of spices and the carefully crafted tools, most of which he had never seen before.

"Welcome," the woman said with a hint of an accent. "Do you see something that pleases you?" Stunningly beautiful, her long, black hair was loosely knotted at her back and adorned with small white flowers. She had long lush eyelashes that outlined her brilliant brown eyes. With golden skin, a small nose, heart shaped lips, her beauty captured the attention of both men and women. She was small, petite, and elegant as she spoke.

Aramis purposely craned his neck to look over the display of small tins, baskets of fresh herbs, some of which hung bound by their stems, from the cart's covering. If he looked at her, he knew his attention would be captured and he wouldn't have the strength to look away. The colors of the herbs varied from bright reds, oranges, and dark browns to greens and yellows. "Are these cooking spices?"

"Mostly." She passed her hand over the small containers and followed his gaze toward a small satchel. "Curry leaves," she said with the hint of a smile, "it's wonderful on chicken or fish."

"Fish?" Aramis suddenly looked at her.

The woman smiled warmly, which caused her beautiful features to become more prevalent. "Yes, fish." She looked at him and recognized his uncertainty, his unasked questions about her heritage, and said quietly, "My family came here from India many years ago." She looked at her father, who looked questionably at her. "Maya," she said, "my name is Maya, and this is my father, Kalidasa."

The older man bowed with a smile, and then looked toward his daughter for guidance. She quietly soothed him and again motioned toward the spices and crafts.

Aramis admired her beauty as he asked, "Do you have any for healing?"

Maya nodded with an eager smile. "Healing and cooking… food is our medicine…" She looked over the spices and grasped a pale root that was fat and covered in a light tan skin. Its irregular shape jutted from all directions and small buds appeared at the ends. "Fresh ginger. My family grows it… and this is a cutting from the original plant we brought with us." She peeled back a small piece of the skin and smelled it before she handed it to him.

Aramis took a whiff and then sniffed again. He remembered smelling something similar in powdered form, but not the root. It was a pleasing scent with a hint of heat.

"It eases stomach pains and is good for headaches. You can make it into a tea and sweeten it with honey." Maya replaced it and then grabbed a small tin and opened it. She gently sniffed at the contents, keeping it far enough away from her nose not to irritate her senses and then handed it to Aramis. "Sniff but be careful."

Aramis took the tin, sniffed, and then frowned. He looked at the yellow powder, gently shifted the tin back and forth, causing the small granules to move, and brought it closer to his nose. Suddenly, the breeze shifted and blew the small particles just as he inhaled. Quickly, he handed it back, and diverted his gaze as his nostrils suddenly started to tingle. And then his eyes watered, his nose ran, and the tingling intensified.

Aramis coughed, pressed his hand to his nose and mouth, and looked at her. With a wheezing voice he asked, "What is that?"

"I'm so sorry, Monsieur," Maya said. She closed the lid and quickly grabbed a cloth, dunked it in a basin of water and wrung it out. "Please," she said, "come and sit." She motioned for Aramis to follow her as his eyes continued to water, and his nose ran and burned.

"Shit," Aramis muttered, and swallowed. "My apologies," he said. He felt Maya grab his arm and pull him behind the cart. "My nose is melting… What was that?" He pulled his hand away from his nose and mucus dripped and ran over his fingers. "Holy hell," he said, wiping his hand on his britches and returning his hand to his nose. "I am melting." His eyes continued to water, long lashes clung together, and his skin felt warm.

"I'm so sorry," Maya said. "Please, I'm so sorry. I know it burns but it won't hurt you." She paused and then winced when Aramis looked questionably at her. His eyes and nostrils had turned a bright shade of red and his lips were swelling. "At least not permanently. Sit," she ordered, and pointed toward the small stool behind the cart.

"What's not permanent?" Aramis asked. He rubbed his eyes which caused them to burn worse. He puckered and licked his swollen lips. "What is happening."

Maya's father was quick to act and poured honey and milk into the small pot. Grabbing Maya's cloth, he placed his hand on Aramis' shoulder, and spoke in his native language.

Maya nodded. "Please, this will help," she said and motioned to the cloth. "My father said this is the remedy his family has used for generations to ease the burning."

"Remedy for what?" Aramis said, "Torture?" He frowned, wiped his hands on his britches again, and then continued to wipe at his nose. "My lips feel swollen — are they swollen?"

Maya winced. "You're handsome looks should return—"

"Return?" A look of panic flashed through Aramis eyes.

"It will cool the heat of the pepper and stop the irritation."

"Is it going to burn?" Aramis pinched his nose and felt the heat reignite. It felt like bees had flown up his nasal passages and were stinging around his upper lip and within his eyes that watered. Tears fell without the curse of remorse or sorrow.

"This will cool your nose," Maya said, and stifled her smile.

"You look like you're enjoying this?" Aramis said and rubbed his eyes, which only exasperated the burning sensation. "Whatever that spice was, I don't want any."

Maya chuckled. "No," she said, "I imagine not. Now, please, allow us to help you." She motioned toward the cloth and applied it to Aramis' nose and mouth. "Hold it in place."

"It stinks?" Aramis said with raised eyebrows.

"Be grateful you can still smell," Maya said and raised her eyebrows.

With Aramis' hand still covering his nose, he could feel the mucus collect and slip past his fingers. He was miserable, and the heat persisted. He winced when Maya removed the cloth, dipped it once more in the milk and honey and then replaced it.

"It's been used by our people for generations… it will soothe your skin and ease the pain —"

Aramis clenched his jaw, and then pressed the cloth to his nose and mouth. Within a few minutes the heat reduced but his nose continued to run. With his right elbow on his knee, he wiped his hand against his britches and grabbed his left thigh above the knee and held tight. He felt Kalidasa rub his back and say a few words as Maya replaced the cloth once more.

"How do you feel?" she asked and looked him in the eyes.

"Numb," Aramis said as he closed his eyes. "Embarrassed." He was a musketeer. Musketeers didn't get embarrassed, least of all him. But as he sat there with mucus running from his nose like water over a waterfall, he considered his plight with the spider. There were moments when panic made sense. He held his breath and felt the pressure of his nose as it slowly stopped running and the pain subsided. He leaned forward, exhaled powerfully several times, and then wiped his nose with the back of his index finger. He took several deep breaths and then looked up at Maya, who smiled at him.

"Better?" Maya asked. She took the cloth from him, poured water and cider over it, and then handed it to him. "Wash away the milk and honey… you don't want to stink or get sticky."

Aramis raised his eyebrows, took the cloth, and wiped at his face. He then said, "It's better." He inhaled deeply, caught the scent of soured apples, and then brushed the cloth against his nose one last time. He looked over his shoulder at Kalidasa, who clapped his hands together and laughed.

The old man pressed his hand to his chest, raised his chin, and took a deep breath. He said something and motioned for Aramis to do something similar.

"Take a deep breath," Maya said. "Allow the fresh air to enter your lungs and free yourself from the spice."

Kalidasa said something else and then Maya translated for him, "He says it is good that you learned now that particular pepper doesn't like you…Just imagine what it would have done to your bowels…"

Aramis snorted, wiped his nose and chin with a cupped hand, looked away, and then nodded. "Your father has a disturbing sense of humor."

Maya translated for him, and her father chuckled. Kalidasa said something else, nodded, and returned to his cart. He grabbed a small tin, shoved it inside a cloth bag, and handed it to Aramis.

"My father wants you to have some curry." Maya said. "He said you will enjoy the flavor. Just," Maya said, "make sure you don't use too much."

Aramis stood and looked to his left when Maya tilted her head toward a guest. He handed the cloth back to her and wiped again at his nose.

D'Artagnan stood with an eyebrow cocked while he ate small, rounded candies. "What?" He glanced at Maya and then looked at Aramis, "What was it that caused," he waved his hand in front of his face, "your face to turn red… ? You look like an overripe beet."

"Hot Pepper," Maya said. "I have found that some people react very strongly to it — at least when they inhale it." She shrugged apologetically, but couldn't hide her giggle. "My husband loves it and many have found the flavor pleasing."

"Does your husband cry a lot?" Aramis wiped his eyes free of the tears that had fallen and caused his eyelashes to cling together.

Maya shook her head. "No, but this will make him laugh."

Aramis raised the corners of his mouth into a grateful smile, raised the sackcloth, and nodded. "Thank you for this."

"You're welcome." She smiled, looked at d'Artagnan and nodded once as Aramis turned to leave. He nodded at Kalidasa and then walked with d'Artagnan toward the home of the jeweler.

"What are you eating now?" Aramis asked. He took several deep breaths and slowly felt the warmth of embarrassment and pepper fade.

Excitedly, d'Artagnan opened a bag. "Torrone — it's a nougat —"

"I know what it is."

"I've never had it," d'Artagnan said and then pulled a few more items for Aramis to inspect. "Cannon ball candy, sweet root, more candied almonds, and enough Torrone for all of us."

"How much have you eaten?"

D'Artagnan shrugged, took another bite of his torrone, and licked his lips. "I don't know, but it's good." He stopped suddenly, grasped Aramis' arm, and pointed. "Buttered lollies — have you ever had it?" He groaned and pulled Aramis with him as he crossed the street. "I didn't see this earlier — it's so good, Aramis. You must have some. It tastes like salted butter that's been sweetened with sugar."

"Because it is."

D'Artagnan pulled more coins from his purse and nodded to the marketer. "We'll take two." He shoved the torrone back into his bag and then paid the man behind the cart.

D'Artagnan sniffed at the candy and closed his eyes. He licked his lips as the hard candy melted over his tongue. He chewed on the burnt edges and savored it. "My mother made this once when I was a boy." He smiled. "Sugar was difficult to get, but she said it was worth the expense."

Aramis looked at d'Artagnan and saw a different side of him. A young man about to spend hours with an upset stomach after ingesting a mass amount of sugar. Aramis smiled, satisfied.

"Shall we proceed, or are you going to eat the rest of this man's buttered lollies?"

"It's all for sale," the farmer said as he added coins to his pocket.

D'Artagnan wiped his lips and nodded with a wide smile. "Two more."