Sleep of the Dead

                                    

                                          
    Married life was full of surprises. The first one was that Frank slept really badly. Sometimes Hazel would be woken in the middle of the night and hear him growling like a dog or hissing like a snake. Hazel tried everything. She stuffed her ears with cotton, but they just fell out in her sleep. She tried to guess what his humors might be and if they off balance, but she wasn't a physician and besides, the only thing gleaned from him was that he was melancholy. I'm melancholy too, she thought, and I sleep like a lamb. 
                          
    She made the bed as comfortable as possible, plumping up the pillow just before Frank laid down, but he still make animal noises in his sleep. After about a month of this, Hazel couldn't handle it any more. "Frank," she said one morning as he got up, his hair ruffled like an eagle's feathers. "We need to talk."
                          
    Frank gulped. While their nights had passed in disorder, their days went well enough. Frank was sweet and quiet most of the time and the two often blushed more than spoke, but Hazel enjoyed spending time with him. She missed her brother more than she'd realize she would, however, and she woke up every morning with an ache in her chest; it had been the same right after her mother died.
                          
     Hazel had hoped — a hope she only really pondered while half-asleep — that marriage would be the medicine to mend her masticated heart. It hadn't turned out that way and Hazel chastised herself for expecting too much out of marriage. The best most people could hope for in matrimony was peace and Hazel had that, so why did she feel so unsettled?
                          
       Hazel met her husband's gaze, trying not to shrink into herself. She'd rehearsed this with Nico; she could do it. "I'm concerned about your sleep," Hazel began. "It's been disturbed."
                          
    Frank hung his head. "I'm sorry. I've had nightmares before, but they've been worse lately."
                          
    He didn't elaborate on what they were, but the hollowness in his eyes spoke to loss. Hazel reached out and squeezed his hand, her heart to full of empathy to even blush. "Frank, perhaps we should go see someone."
                          
      He blinked. "Who?"
                          
     "We could see the apothecary," Hazel suggested, "or the parish priest."
                          
    Frank nodded slowly. "I trust Chiron and the apothecary sounds good. How about we try both?"
                          
    Hazel smiled. It was their first big decision as a couple and they'd handled it well. She just wished his sleep could calmed down easily. 
                          
***
                          
      Iris lived at the southwest edge of town and her hut always smelled of fragrant herbs and spices. There was another apothecary in town owned by a woman named Hecate, but she reminded Hazel too much of her mother. Iris was different. Whereas Hecate's shop was gloomy, Iris spoke with customers in the open air or around her hearth, giving them cups of warm almond milk to drink. "It helps with digestion," she explained as they sipped the liquid. 
                          
       Frank smiled. His stomach couldn't handle cow's or goat's milk nor cheese, but he had no problem with this stuff. "So what brings you here today?" Iris asked. 
                          
      Frank and Hazel exchanged glances. "I've been sleeping badly," Frank confessed, his ears pink.
                          
    Iris began peppering him with questions. Some of them, pertaining to his sleep habits or what he did during the day, made sense while others baffled Hazel? Was Frank born at an auspicious hour? How often did he go to church? Was he acting himself? "Hmm," Iris said after they answered her 102nd question. "Your disturbed sleep could be caused by a number of issues, but I'm guessing you either have an imbalance of humors or are suffering from demonic possession."
                          
   Frank's face began to resemble whey. "Demonic possession?"
                          
    Iris nodded sagely. "Demons can plague sufferers with nightmares and that would explain the strange noises you make at night."
                          
     Great, Hazel thought; my husband might be possessed by Satan. "What should we do?" 
                          
     "This herbal tincture should help," Iris said, raising a glass bottle up so they could see it. "Mix three drops of it with warm almond milk or water every night. As for the demon, you should see Chiron about that."
                          
***
                          
     "This is the third request I've had today for an exorcism," Chiron.
                          
    Frank, who was supposed to be laying down on his back, sat up. "Really? Is that normal?"
                          
    Chiron shook his head. "I usually see that number of cases in a month. It bodes ill favor. . . There will be misfortune ahead."
                          
     Perhaps he realized he was being too somber for he forced a smile. "Fortunately, I am somewhat of an expert in exorcism," Chiron said. "I was taught by Pope Zeus himself when he was still a canon."
                          
    Zeus was the current Pope and thought there were many rumors surrounding him (notably the numbers of illegitimate children he'd sired), he was still a powerful and respected authority in Europe. "What was he like?" Hazel asked. 
                          
     Chiron shook his head and smiled. "I'm here to dispel demons, not tell you the deeds of the Pope."
                          
       Chiron started the ritual with prayers. He spoke in Latin. Hazel could understand snippets of what he was saying from Mass, but mostly it sounded mysterious and otherworldly. Finally, Chiron took out an aspergillum, a silver rod with a ball attached at the end. The ball was covered in small holes as Chiron shook the aspergillum over Frank, holy water sprinkled dampened the man's tunic. Chiron ended the exorcism with another Latin prayer. "There, it is done," he said, switching to French. 
                          
      "Thank you," Hazel said. 
                          
       Frank sat up. "Thank you, priest. I will make a votive offering to the church. Is there anything else I should do?"
                          
     "I suggest you pray daily," Chiron said, "and if your symptoms persist, you may want to consider a pilgrimage."
                          
     At the look on Frank's face he quickly added, "You need not go as far as Jerusalem. There are closer holy sites."
                          
    Frank inclined his head and thanked him again. That night, he followed both Iris and Chiron's counsel and for whatever reason, he slept like a duckling.