[godfather death]

the new father met the devil acoming along the way, just after the boy was born. you, he said, his options exhausted, would make a truly excellent godfather for my first born. the devil reminded the man that he was, in fact, the devil, which was enough to give the man second thoughts. further along down the road, the man met with death. surely, he said, you’d be a better godfather for my son than the devil himself. death, for his part, agreed, attended the christening, and explained that as his gift he would make the young man the best physician in the land; he will attend the sickbed, death said, and if i stand at the head, he need only apply this herb to the lips of the lying-in for the patient to recover, but if i stand at the foot of the bed, no remedy will do the sick one any good

so the young man grew and grew until his skill as a physician, his insight, became well known. one day, the king called for the most renowned physician in the land. when the young man arrived, the page led him into the sickroom where he found death standing at the head of the king’s bed. as ever, he did not acknowledge his godfather, but instead consulted with the sickened king, who described his rattling phlegmy cough, the flame of his fever, the scabrous lesions of his pox. relax, the physician said, rest, take this herb, and you will recover, you will rise a new man, a new king. the herb tasted to the king of cinnamon root

sometime after the king’s recovery the physician came again to the castle, he arrived in the sickroom to discover his godfather at the foot of the prince’s bed. was there a nod of acknowledgement then, a subtle gesture of hello, a dip of the chin toward the chest? the prince contorted his mouth, lamented his weeping wounds. the physician knew that the prince’s fate was sealed, but how could he tell his king? so, he lifted the boy, turned him so that death stood at the boy’s head. now, take this herb, he said, and together the young men cheated death

death found his godson along the road. you have disappointed me, death said. the doctor understood, the doctor apologized. i will forgive you this one time, death said, because you are my only godson, but do not thwart me again

she had long flaxen hair, she had gemstones for eyes, she had alabaster skin crawling with brittle scabs. her nails clung by cuticle threads to cracked and bleeding fingers, her eyelids sunk in sagging tarps onto her bruised eyes, seemed also thin as paper, as though the slightest tear might cause them to tear, her hips a bony cradle basket in the bed, and death stood at her feet, and death did not stand at her head

she was light when he lifted her up as a roughhewn sack filled with straw. he rubbed the pungent herb upon her lips, she recovered as he clung to her bony hand

i will not be cheated, death said, and the boy felt the wounds sprout upon his skin