Legend

The village women called it the fair lady and gave it a wide berth. Essen Jara picked her Belladonna with bare hands – branches of dark leaves, violet bells of flowers, and berries as black and glossy as a marten’s eyes.

In summer, when the berries were ripening, a young healer from a neighbouring village came into the forest. She was gifted, and she knew it.

“I already know every herb there is,” she declared. “My neighbour’s child has a fever. Teach me to heal as strongly as you do, and I’ll brew the draught myself.”

Essen picked a sprig and laid a single leaf on her palm.

“How much will you give the child? Measure it out.”

The girl hesitated. Essen added a second leaf, then a third. A sweet, cloying scent went to her head, and the young healer’s hand began to tremble.

“Two?” she asked uncertainly.

Essen swept two leaves from her palm and flung them into the ferns.

“One heals. Three kill,” she said. “The plant never lies. It is the hand that lies, when it pretends to know.”

The healer went back to her village with a single leaf, and that evening admitted to her neighbour that there was something she did not know. Since then, Essen has shown the Belladonna to anyone who wants to heal faster than they have learned how.