24 Traveling to the Middle Ages 024

"You possess a true talent for music," Helena remarked, paying Louisa a compliment as they emerged from the Countess’s exquisite chambers on the second floor of the castle’s southwest tower.

Helena was the daughter of Anthony Scott, yet at the court of Bludo, she served as Louisa’s lady-in-waiting. This, of course, was no insult to Anthony, a renowned scholar. At this time, a lady-in-waiting was distinct from a servant; the position was closer to that of a "companion." It was quite common for lower-ranking nobles to serve those of higher standing, a role the former considered an honor.

Initially, Helena’s appointment as Louisa’s lady-in-waiting had been a special favor, one that both father and daughter were happy to accept. Anthony, considering his daughter’s future, felt that securing a place at court was a promising start (Helena herself had no interest in marriage). As for Helena, she had little enthusiasm for the role, but she knew that unless she chose the life of a nun, she would eventually need to find her own path.

However, as she spent time with Louisa, she found herself increasingly fond of her duties. Louisa was not a demanding mistress; she was kind to everyone, from her ladies-in-waiting down to the lowliest maid. She could be firm, certainly, but she only adopted the haughty airs of a Countess of Bludo when dealing with high-born individuals who lacked basic respect.

Beyond that, Louisa was "interesting." Indeed, from Helena’s perspective, she was fascinating. Having traveled extensively with her father and having spent most of her life in the company of the high nobility, Helena was well-versed in the temperament of young noblewomen. Compared to the girls who usually bored her, Louisa was truly refreshing.

Most noblewomen were either frail and pious—living in the secular world like nuns, with even the way they tied their cloaks suggestive of rosary beads—or they were excessively domineering and hedonistic, insisting that every whim be satisfied. Moreover, their tastes were often mere reflections of their fathers and brothers, showing little in the way of genuine refinement.

Louisa was different. Despite having spent over a decade in a convent, she lacked the dull, rigid nature of a nun—that mechanical personality forged by the strict, daily cycles of eating, sleeping, and prayer. She was not overbearing, and while she had many interests, they all displayed a certain taste. Even when those interests leaned toward the "vulgar," she somehow elevated them. Take "fine dining," for example; Louisa was incredibly particular about food, a trait that might easily suggest gluttony or vulgarity. Yet, once one saw how she approached it, it was hard not to be drawn in.

"Oh, music? Are you talking about music?" Louisa, still holding her lute, plucked a string gently with a quill. "I enjoy pleasant music; it is a delight to the senses. And I must say, practicing an instrument is a rare pleasure in itself."

In her previous life, Louisa had known a little ukulele and harmonica—the former picked up as a passing trend, the latter learned from an artistically inclined elder. But they were merely for show. In her twenty years of life, she had had no deep connection to music or instruments, nor had she discovered any particular talent for them. Perhaps it was simply that life in the Middle Ages was so tedious that this served as a way to pass the time. It was likely this difference in mindset, coupled with the cognitive maturity of a modern adult, that allowed her to learn so quickly compared to her contemporaries.

Helena noticed that when Louisa spoke of these things, there was no affectation. She truly believed that many of the joys of court life were "nothing special." Even regarding her musical proficiency, there was no sign of obsession; she seemed as though she could set it aside at any moment. Honestly, this air of indifference was more aristocratic than any "noble demeanor" Helena had ever witnessed.

"In this, you are the very model of a courtly lady," Helena complimented her, partially in earnest. "I hear you not only play the lute, the vielle, and the recorder, and sing various virelais, rondeaux, and pastourelles, but you also compose elegant poetry and prose yourself. It is truly admirable."

"That is nothing; I do not consider my level very high. It is only because I am a woman that even a modicum of skill draws such surprise, as if it were some great feat," Louisa replied, truly believing it. Her rapid learning was entirely due to the perspective of a modern person.

There is a saying in China: "If you read three hundred Tang poems, you will eventually learn to compose them yourself." The situation here was much the same. As a modern person, she had been exposed to the finest literary works, and her daily life was saturated with information. Metaphors that she considered somewhat hackneyed were seen here as divine—the first person to compare a girl’s face to a red apple was a genius, after all!

One had to remember that the English language did not mature until after Shakespeare, whose works enriched the language with countless phrases and sentences. And Shakespeare was a man of the Renaissance! Not every country in the Middle Ages had to wait for a Shakespeare, but the literary immaturity remained the same.

"I believe, with your intelligence, Helena, you could do all of this too, if you wished," Louisa said sincerely. "But you simply do not want to, do you? You, like your father, are obsessed with alchemy... I think that is interesting, too, but only to a certain extent."

"Things like the Elixir of Life, the Philosopher's Stone, or the claims in treatises like *The Arcane Arts* about turning mercury into silver... those I find rather dubious."

Louisa had been shocked when she first heard that Anthony was a famous alchemist. She had not expected that something like "alchemy" could be openly discussed. Having spent so much time in a convent, she had a practical understanding of the religious environment of the Middle Ages. Contrary to what one might think, although it was a society where almost everyone was religious, "superstition" was not officially sanctioned. The Catholic Church maintained that no other supernatural forces existed; to believe in witches, demons, or sprites was considered "superstition."

Though in private, especially in remote rural areas, people certainly believed in such things...

This also explained why, in the religiously fervent Middle Ages, the "burning of witches" was actually quite rare. Louisa had lived in this era for over a decade and had never once heard of a witch burning. Fundamentally, the Church did not recognize the existence of witches!

The historical witch-burning craze occurred from the late 15th to the late 18th century (peaking around the 17th century, well after the Renaissance), which had nothing to do with the Middle Ages. Witch burning had little to do with religious zeal; it was essentially a result of radical shifts in social structure and atmosphere during that later period, where people projected their uncontrollable ethnic and class conflicts onto the most vulnerable. Those accused were often outsiders, single women, or those on the fringes of society.

The fact that it was "witches"—rather than a gender-neutral term for sorcerers—spoke volumes. Even the weakest man had someone weaker than him: a woman.

Because of her awareness of what constituted "superstition," Louisa had initially assumed alchemy was just another fringe belief, something only the "ignorant folk" in remote areas would trust. How could a famous scholar like Anthony be an alchemist, and openly so?

She hadn't realized that while alchemy was not mainstream, dancing ambiguously between science and theology, it was not taboo in secular society. Some alchemists even corresponded openly with the Pope about the potential benefits of their work. Generally, the official stance of the Church toward alchemy was one of neither support nor opposition.

The arrival of the Scotts had opened a window into alchemy for Louisa. She had found some alchemical texts in Anthony’s collection, like the aforementioned *The Arcane Arts*. The focus here wasn't on the mysticism, but on the truly scientific and rational parts of alchemy—the chemistry!

Alchemy involved dissolving, melting, filtering, sublimating, calcining, and distilling various substances... how could a modern person like Louisa not be interested?

"What you say is truly intriguing," Helena said, sounding slightly uneasy. "The ultimate goal of alchemy is the creation of the 'Philosopher's Stone,' which represents the Elixir of Life and gold, yet you dismiss them entirely."

As they returned to the room, Louisa noticed that Jeanne had brought afternoon tea and snacks. She set down her instrument and said, "I do not mean to disrespect your pursuits, but I believe that even the most optimistic alchemist today would not truly hold the 'Philosopher's Stone' as their primary goal... at least, we must be realistic."

"We should focus on creating things that are actually achievable, and pursuing knowledge that is less ethereal."