Dawn painted Leiden's canals with pale gold light as Clara hurried through the awakening city. Her disguise felt simultaneously more comfortable and more terrifying in the growing daylight. Each passing guard or early merchant seemed to stare, though none gave her more than a cursory glance.
Professor Ruysch's laboratory occupied a small building behind the university's main hall. Unlike the grand public space of yesterday's demonstration, this was a practical workspace. Shelves lined with jars of preserved specimens covered every wall. Tables crowded with instruments, papers, and partially dissected animal parts filled the center of the room.
The professor himself was already at work when Clara arrived, hunched over a desk in the corner, quill scratching rapidly.
"Ah, Jansen," he said without looking up. "Prompt. Good. Remove your jacket and put on one of the aprons behind the door."
Clara obeyed, relieved that the apron was voluminous enough to further disguise her figure. She approached cautiously, uncertain of her role.
"Have you prepared cadavers before?" Ruysch asked, finally looking up.
"Only animals, sir," Clara answered in her practiced low voice.
"The principles are the same, though the stakes higher," he said, rising. "Today we prepare for tomorrow's demonstration of the circulatory system."
He led her to a table where a body lay covered with a linen sheet. "This woman died in childbirth yesterday. Her husband sold her body to the university—a common arrangement when funeral costs prove burdensome."
Clara swallowed hard as Ruysch pulled back the sheet. The woman appeared peaceful, almost sleeping, her face still youthful despite the lines of hard living. A strange kinship swept through Clara—this could be her, lying on a similar table someday, her secrets exposed to strangers' eyes.
"We must inject the vessels with my special wax compound," Ruysch explained, moving to a small burner where a pot of red-tinted material simmered. "It preserves the pathways and makes them visible to the audience."
For the next two hours, Clara worked alongside the professor, preparing instruments, mixing compounds according to his instructions, and assisting with the delicate injection process. Ruysch's technique was revolutionary—Clara had never imagined such methods from her readings.
"You have steady hands," Ruysch commented as she successfully injected a small vessel. "Most students tremble at their first cadaver."
"I find it... fascinating rather than frightening," Clara admitted.
Ruysch smiled slightly. "As do I. Though prudence dictates we express appropriate solemnity in public demonstrations. The Church tolerates our work only as scientific necessity."
As morning became afternoon, Clara grew more comfortable in her role. She listened intently as Ruysch explained his theories, asking questions when she dared. Each time she feared revealing too much knowledge for a novice student, but the professor seemed pleased by her understanding.
"You've studied Vesalius," he observed as she correctly identified a structure not commonly known to beginners.
"My father obtained a copy," Clara said carefully. "I've read it many times."
Ruysch nodded approvingly. "A fine foundation. Yet even Vesalius did not see everything clearly."
He stepped to a locked cabinet in the corner of the room, removing a key from around his neck. After glancing toward the door, he unlocked the cabinet and withdrew a leather-bound manuscript.
"What I show you now must remain between us, Jansen," he said gravely. "I value my position at the university—and indeed my freedom."
Clara's curiosity burned as he opened the manuscript. Inside were meticulous drawings unlike any she had seen before—detailed illustrations of blood vessels forming complete circuits through the body, accompanied by notes in a tight, precise hand.
"This cannot be," she whispered, forgetting to maintain her deeper voice. "Galen established that blood is created anew in the liver and consumed by the tissues."
If Ruysch noticed her vocal slip, he gave no sign, too engrossed in his work. "Galen never performed human dissection—the Romans forbade it. He examined animals and made assumptions." He tapped the manuscript. "I have traced the path of blood for years. It does not vanish into the tissues. It returns to the heart."
Clara's mind raced. "A circulatory system? But that would mean—"
"That the heart is not the mystical seat of emotions the Church describes, but a pump," Ruysch finished. "A magnificent pump, but mechanical nonetheless."
The implications staggered her. If blood continuously circulated rather than being constantly created and consumed, the entire Galenic system that had dominated medicine for centuries collapsed. And with it, much of the Church's theological understanding of the body.
"These ideas are dangerous," Clara said softly.
"Hence the locked cabinet," Ruysch replied with a grim smile. "My English colleague William Harvey is preparing to publish similar findings, though his evidence is less complete than mine."
"Why not publish your work first?"
Ruysch closed the manuscript. "The political climate here is more... precarious. Religious tensions remain high in the Netherlands. Better to let an Englishman weather the initial storm."
As Clara helped return the manuscript to its hiding place, a loud knock at the laboratory door made them both start.
"Professor Ruysch! A moment of your time, if you please."
Clara recognized the voice of Rector Vanderhooven, the university's administrator—and a known religious conservative.
Ruysch motioned Clara to continue their work as he went to the door, opening it just enough to address the visitor without allowing him to see the entirety of the laboratory.
"Rector, how may I assist you?"
"I've received concerns about your lecture yesterday," Vanderhooven said, his voice carrying clearly. "Several students reported that you questioned Galen's teachings on blood production."
"A misunderstanding," Ruysch replied smoothly. "I merely presented the established view, noting areas where our observations must be reconciled with ancient wisdom."
"See that it remains so, Professor. The university cannot support heretical speculations."
The tension in Ruysch's shoulders was visible only from where Clara stood. "Of course, Rector. Tomorrow's demonstration will be most traditional, I assure you."
After Vanderhooven departed, Ruysch returned to the workbench, his face troubled. "You understand the delicacy of our position, Jansen. Science advances one funeral at a time, as they say."
Clara nodded, her mind now occupied with the hidden manuscript and its explosive contents. If Ruysch's observations were correct, it would revolutionize medicine—but at what cost to those who championed these ideas?
As evening approached, Clara realized she had long exceeded the time promised to her father. She would face his fury at home, but the knowledge gained seemed worth any punishment.
"You've been invaluable today," Ruysch said as they cleaned the instruments. "Would you consider continuing as my assistant? The university provides a small stipend."
The offer was everything Clara had dreamed of, yet impossible to accept. Her deception could not be maintained indefinitely. Sooner or later, someone would discover the truth.
"I am honored, Professor, but I must decline," she said reluctantly. "Family obligations require my attention."
Disappointment crossed Ruysch's face. "A pity. Minds like yours are rare among my students." He reached for a book on a nearby shelf. "Take this, at least. A token of appreciation for your help today."
Clara accepted the gift—a slim volume on comparative anatomy—with genuine gratitude. "Thank you, Professor. Today has been... illuminating."
As she stepped into the twilight streets of Leiden, Clara's mind whirled with all she had learned—not just anatomy, but the politics of knowledge itself. The manuscript's revelations haunted her thoughts. Such truth deserved to be shared, yet its disclosure threatened its creator.
She was so absorbed in these reflections that she failed to notice the figure following her through the darkening streets.
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