the young man in brown canvas pants and a stained shirt. "Well how could you put a price on good health?" boomed the merchant. The line sounded like it had been said before many times and in many different inflections. You could hear the well-practiced notes to the phrase as it rang out. The crowd stared at the merchant expectantly. "Yeah, but how much?" yelled a woman from the other end of the crowd. She could barely see over the heads in front of her and was cradling a tiny bundle in her arms.
"I sell it for ten silvers over in London," the man bragged.
"You can't have sold anything in London lately. Seas have been too rough to port in London for over three months," said George, softer now.
The man's face was turing red, taking on the shade of a beet freshly pulled from the ground. "But for you, only for today, I'll give you the special price of only 5 silvers!" The crowd looked unsure. George looked at the scrawny young man who looked like he hadn't eaten in days. He was counting coppers in his palm.
"This tonic can't have come from Italy like the man says," said George. He stood up on the branch of the tree and pointed at the man's wares displayed below him. "If those tonics were from Italy, wouldn't that label be in Italian?"
The labels were bold and freshly printed in brown ink, identifying each bottle as "Tonic to ward against Plague."
The merchant spoke more quickly. "This shipment was intended for English citizens, of course! And they wanted to make sure you read the label correctly. Didn't want anyone thinking it was perfume!"
"So, what's in the cure, then? Is it holy water and iodine and saints' toenails?"
The man's face grew even redder. "Of course not! It's specialy formulated to calm the physics of your ailments. It's a mixture of herbs, medicines, and only the purest ingredients."
The crowd's eyes moved back and forth between the two men as they argued. The young man with the fist full of coppers looked closely at the bottle. "You're saying that we'll be cured if we take this?"
Nodding enthusiastically, the merchant held up one of the bottles. "Yes, my boy, that's what I'm saying!"
"Well, why don't you give one of us a bottle and we'll tell the rest if it feels like it's doing anything?"
"Give you...?"
George smiled. "None of these people are sick yet. You have little to lose." Looking closely at the bottle, George noticed that the liquid looked like cloudy water. "Give one to the boy."
"I sell it for ten silvers over in London," the man bragged.
"You can't have sold anything in London lately. Seas have been too rough to port in London for over three months," said George, softer now.
The man's face was turing red, taking on the shade of a beet freshly pulled from the ground. "But for you, only for today, I'll give you the special price of only 5 silvers!" The crowd looked unsure. George looked at the scrawny young man who looked like he hadn't eaten in days. He was counting coppers in his palm.
"This tonic can't have come from Italy like the man says," said George. He stood up on the branch of the tree and pointed at the man's wares displayed below him. "If those tonics were from Italy, wouldn't that label be in Italian?"
The labels were bold and freshly printed in brown ink, identifying each bottle as "Tonic to ward against Plague."
The merchant spoke more quickly. "This shipment was intended for English citizens, of course! And they wanted to make sure you read the label correctly. Didn't want anyone thinking it was perfume!"
"So, what's in the cure, then? Is it holy water and iodine and saints' toenails?"
The man's face grew even redder. "Of course not! It's specialy formulated to calm the physics of your ailments. It's a mixture of herbs, medicines, and only the purest ingredients."
The crowd's eyes moved back and forth between the two men as they argued. The young man with the fist full of coppers looked closely at the bottle. "You're saying that we'll be cured if we take this?"
Nodding enthusiastically, the merchant held up one of the bottles. "Yes, my boy, that's what I'm saying!"
"Well, why don't you give one of us a bottle and we'll tell the rest if it feels like it's doing anything?"
"Give you...?"
George smiled. "None of these people are sick yet. You have little to lose." Looking closely at the bottle, George noticed that the liquid looked like cloudy water. "Give one to the boy."
