"I am a stranger to love, thank the Saints," he said, "but, as you know,
lord, I am a master leech, and amongst other things have studied certain
medicines which breed that passion in the human animal."
"Love philtres?" queried Acour doubtfully.
"Yes, that kind of thing. One dose, and those who hate become enamoured,
and those who are enamoured hate."
"Then in God's or Satan's name, give her one. Only be careful it is the
right sort, for if you made a mistake so that she hated me any more than
she does at present, I know not what would happen. Also if you kill her
I'll dig a sword point through you. How would the stuff work?"
"She'll seem somewhat stupid for a while, perhaps not speak, but only
smile kindly. That will last twelve hours or so, plenty of time for you
to be married, and afterward, when the grosser part of the potion passes
off leaving only its divine essence, why, afterward she'll love you
furiously."
"A powerful medicine, truly, that can change the nature of woman.
Moreover, I'd rather that she loved me--well, as happy brides do. Still
I put up with the fury provided it be of the good kind. And now how is
it to be done?"
"Leave that to me, lord," said Nicholas, with a cunning smile. "Give me
a purse of gold, not less than ten pieces, for some is needed to melt in
the mixture, and more to bribe that woman and others. For the rest, hold
yourself ready to become a husband before sunset to-morrow.
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