Page 274 - The Grotesque Children's Book

“A fine jest, sire, as anyone who has studied fevers will have studied his Bernard de
Gordon. So, regale me, sir, with your knowledge of fevers.”

“I shall!” The Duke cleared his throat, as though he were a student at a medical
accademia, trying to impress a learned tutor. “We have,” he began, “as we all know, a natural
warmth, whether asleep or awake. A calor naturalis which maintains our life. Without it we
have no life. And without life we have no calor naturalis. Now, it is balanced with the
humidum radicale, that is, our essential moisture, our fluid. The hottest of our humors is the red
bile, concentrated in or around the heart, so when there is an affliction of the heart, the bile
overheats, resulting in putrefaction and even decomposition, not unlike putrid rotting of --”

“This is Galen!” interrupted the doctor. “You know your Galen well.”

“Galen and Hippocrates, yes. Goody, goody, look at us speaking the secret language of
scientists! Aren’t we fun!” Francesco literally clapped his hands for himself.

“I, er, modern medicine, that is, medicine of our sixteenth century --” Valerius knew he
had to tread very very carefully here. The Duke is so proud of knowing his Galen, who has so
fallen out of favor these days. “How do I say this? Our modern sixteenth century has
progressed beyond the initial teachings of Galen.”

The Duke sputtered meekly. “Are you saying...what are you saying? Are you saying I’m
wrong?”

“I’ve been exploring explanations beyond over-heated bile.”

“Beyond bile?” The Duke blinked several times, as if there couldn’t possibly be such a
thing.

“Yes, sire.”

“But -- but -- yellow fever, it comes from putrefied yellow bile, and black fever from
spoiling of the black bile.”

“Today we call those tertian and quartan fevers.”

“Call them what you want, their cause is the same.”

“Tertian. It means ‘every three days’. The fever rises, then recedes every three days.
Quartan, every four days.”

“Because that’s how long it takes the bile to cook.”

“If you say so, Sire.” Let me risk educating him. “I am looking into the rhythm of the
heart, and not merely into temperature.”

“The rhythm of the --?”

“The heart, yes,” continued the doctor. “You can feel how often and how strongly the
heart is pumping. Say, here, for instance, at the side of your neck, or here, on the inside of the
wrist.” Francesco put his fingers to the side of his neck, fascinated. Valerius ventured, “I’m also
examining the urine. I use a matula. That’s a kind of flask. By holding it up to the light I can

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