Mary A. Osborne Mary A. Osborne is the award-winning author of Alchemy’s Daughter and Nonna’s Book of Mysteries. Her novels were inspired by travels to Tuscany and the walled village of Certaldo—home of medieval author Giovanni Boccaccio. A blend of history, alchemy, adventure, and romance, her writing appeals to adults as well as teens. A graduate of Rush University and Knox College, Ms. Osborne is a registered nurse and holds degrees in chemistry and nursing. Her freelance work has appeared in publications including Hektoen International, NewCity, and Examiner.com. She is a Chicago native. Learn more about the author at MaryAOsborne.com. Buy her books at any bookstore or: https://www.amazon.com/Nonnas-Book-Mysteries-Alchemy-Osborne/ dp/1936181169 https://www.amazon.com/Alchemys-Daughter-MaryAnn-Osborne/dp/193618124X/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?_ encoding=UTF8&qid=1482378634&sr=1-1 An excerpt from Alchemy’s Daughter, the tale of a young medieval woman who apprentices to the mysterious village midwife, a suspected witch: “The kitten was trapped,” the young midwife blurted out. “The mother cat was near death. I had no choice but to cut through the womb.” When Santina’s mentor had found her feeding her newly adopted pet out in the barn, she felt compelled to confess her secret. “Was the cat dead or were you hell-bent on doing the operation?” Trotula demanded. “No. Si! She was near lifeless,” Santina stammered, doubting the sincerity of her own words. “It’s true I wanted to learn how to do the operation,” she admitted through her tears. “Santina, I don’t have to tell you what an impulsive thing you did. You’re far from ready to take your education into your own hands. I’ve been practicing midwifery for the better part of my life. Do you suppose I learned everything there is to know in one year? Or two? For heaven’s sake, pazienza! You must have patience.”
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“I’m sorry, Trotula,” Santina said, owning that she had done more than inflict a traumatic death on a feline. She had disregarded Trotula’s guidance and failed to trust her teacher. Despite all this, Santina could not let go of her ideas about the Caesarean. “I need to know what to do when a woman isn’t able to deliver,” she began, though she knew Trotula was unlikely to change her mind. “We’re midwives, Trotula. We should always know what to do. It’s our business to know, isn’t it?” “You know well enough what to do, Santina. When the time comes and an operation is called for, I’ll show you how it’s done.” Because she was afraid the time would come and Trotula would not be there, the answer did not satisfy Santina. At the risk of infuriating her mentor further, she asked, “Couldn’t we try to deliver a lamb this way?” “Have you heard nothing I’ve said, Santina?” the midwife replied, clearly exasperated with the young woman. “You’re getting too far ahead of yourself. It will get you into trouble if you’re not careful.” “But people want us to help them, Trotula. They depend on us.” “There’s a limit to what people will stand for in San Gimignano, and it’s high time you learn where the line is,” Trotula went on. “For the most part, people are indifferent to cunning folk. But they also know that our work can harm as well as heal. If they come to think we use our knowledge to purposely harm, we’ll be burned at the stake in no time.” Trotula went about purifying the barn with salt and uttering prayers to counteract the evil that had been done. “When I was a young girl, Ninetta delivered a set of twins that was fused together at the midsection. They were stillborn. People starting saying that the mother had done something to insult Ninetta before the birth and Ninetta had cast malocchio, the evil eye, on her. Everyone looked at Ninetta as though she’d caused the misfortune, and no one would call on her. We had little to eat that year,” Trotula told Santina, who did not dare interrupt. “What do you think would happen if anyone learned what you did to that cat? You’d be an accused strega, witch, in no time,” she said. “Tell no one, Santina. Nessuno. I mean no one.” Do you believe in ghosts? Maybe you should. Ursula Bielski is an authority on Chicago’s ghostlore. Learn more on page 40.
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