169. The Lay of the Antidote

169. The Lay of the Antidote

I had no sooner spoken the word “antidote” than there was a strong rustling among the bluebells. They began to clang wildly, we fay can safely hear that safely. Belle and Bella, two of the lovely bluebell fairies, appeared before us. They nodded and made the victory sign and what happened next is history, as told in minstrel’s verses. And it is minstrel’s verses I will now quote here, to explain how fairyland took the challenge of the spat sunflower seed personally and rose in botanical arms against it.

 

Word  was tolled by the Bluebells who carpet forests and fields,

That mild Arley had picked up a glove flung by a mum of fiends!

The enemy being an army of flying, poison-spitting pests,

No one had the leanest doubt there was no time for jests.

Considering Arls’ second was but a one eyed apple,

More at home in an orchard than in the midst of a battle,

´Twas clear he was in need of help these teensy Goliaths  to topple.

From hills and plains and woods and vales a restive throng advanced,

And at the fore of a hundred score twelve champions proudly pranced. 

And of these twelve, nine their heads with their weapons they  were crowned,

For nine poison-hating plants to their temples they had bound.

And to assure a victory in war, in their brave hands they staunchly  bore

Jars, vials, caskets or some other choice of vessel, 

That held the aforesaid herbs,  ground to powder in a mortar with a pestle.

These elements, cunningly blended into a lotion or a potion,

Could knock down any airborne poisoner in motion.

And Henbeddestyr Parry’s Book of Fay Cures to quote,

To Viruta’s brats’ venom might be the perfect antidote.

Great Aunt Una was first to give her godson her support,

A  she-bear hug and a blossom-shaped mug,

Replete with dust from the senior member of the clan of plants.

‘Tis said who carries this herb no more protection wants.

 

Then Tago, a trooper, if ever one there was,

Fiercely loyal friend of all his friends and of Arl’s brothers one,

Brought dust of the resilient mother of all plants,

Plucked facing the rosy rising sun.

 

Large Peter who’s a lamb at heart,

Brother- in-law to Arl and all his siblings save one, he,

Of emerald shine brought powdered leaves,

The greenest that there were to see.

 

Righteous Attor, always at odds with wrongs where’er they may be found,

Hearing himself needed, hastily came round,

And brought to his younger bro,

A fuming cure, of poisons sworn fierce foe.

Wholesome Miley,  Arl’s parents’ favorite niece,

Brought all the daisies her hands could fleetly seize

From a semper spring field. They spite liver disease.

Her sister Nettie, of innocent look, but dangerous to know,

Her namesake, that by surprise so meanly and keenly stings,

Took to this show of herbs that fight to death loathsome flying things.

 

And from his wild orchard, watered from two rashly rushing rivers,

Malrose, of our sovereigns’ sons the seventh,

Harvested crabby fruit that rages against bilious fevers.

His sweetheart, Cicely, both far and foresighted and in no way blind,

Brought forth a fragrant myrrh that blights pests of the flying kind, 

And against mad dog’s bites and vipers’ venom ´tis found

To disinfect green wounds that filthy germs hound.

With Cecy came Fenella.

Big sis of Arls’,

Bearing her baby, Fen,

And a tall plant with yellow flowers

That restores lost sight again.

The trio of champions that completed the dozen,

Were fraters Thymian and Betonius,

Plus Nigella, an extravagant cousin. 

Temperate Tony, so loved by the butterfly and the bee,

Offered Arl a remedy good for the head. It kills anxiety.

Nigella, with her madcap hats and her messy hair,

Proved once more to all that she is all there,

Bringing from Mount Sapo the powdered soap there was to spare.

Next she persuaded Thymian, Arl’s Egyptologist frére,

To leave his womblike-tomblike museum of a lair,

And boil into one salve the powders with the powers

Against the fiends in the air.

This Thymian did, with copper cauldron lit

In Jane Doe’s own humble hut,

Murmuring and muttering in a dark tongue over his task

Horus this and Anubis that!

For luck, he added of among his own treasures,

Always in the exactest measures,

Of a blue scarab its sacred sap.

But when he was done and the powders were one,

He simply said, “Okay! Let’s end Viruta’s crap!”

In case you haven’t guessed, the nine poison-hating  plants my brother Thymian employed in his potion are Mugwort, Plantain (Plantago), Lamb´s Cress, Fumitory, Chamomile, Nettle, Crab Apple, Sweet Cicely, and Fennel. Betony, Nigella and Thyme lent a very significant hand. I will have more to say about all this in the next chapter.