The Story Of The Busted Thieves

Wind whistled through the lifeless trees deadened by the French winter. Backdropped by a cold gray sky, four silhouettes crunched the frozen powder blanketing the forest floor. With each labored step, the air froze their raspy breath. The sub-zero weather could not begin to rival the icy heart pounding in the chests of these men.

Drawn to the edifice on the hill, these four have come to render evil upon the inhabitants. The leader of the tiny troupe lifted his hand to halt the march. "We’ll stop here. It’s almost nightfall. We’ll go when it is dark."

Flurries started to descend from the overcast sky, streaking the leader’s beard with snow flakes. With his steel blue eyes locked on his target, he rehearsed his plan over in his mind. The other three men dropped their packs with a rattle.

The leader whirled around and snapped at his minions, "Be careful! We can’t taketh any chances of breaking those jars."

The three men removed their outer garments and placed them on the ground to insulate them from the frozen tundra while they prepared. Each man reached gingerly into his pack and extracted flasks of liquid, handling each jar with the utmost care.

As the first jar was opened, the scent of Lemon filled the nostrils of the leader with the familiar aroma which sharpened his mind and helped him think a little clearer. Then came the earthy scent of Cinnamon which helped to calm his pensive heart. After the Cinnamon he inhaled the robust smell of Eucalyptus, followed by the similar smelling Rosemary. Lastly the spicy smelling Clove pierced his trance.

The men huddled together behind him doused themselves with pure oils and made sure every area of their body was covered with the precious ointment.

"Jacques," one of the men said, standing behind the tall grizzled leader.

"Yes, Francois," he shot back at him.

"We’re ready, I’ll watch. You prepare."

"Yes, yes. It is almost time."

Jacques clomped his companion on the shoulder with his big gloved hand, lowered his pack and proceeded in the same way.

The small band of thieves tromped across the frozen field leading to their intended target in the semidarkness. At the base of the hill leading up to the castle Jacques halted the group and peered for some time at the silhouette of the castle. As the sky turned ink black no lights appeared to indicate the presence of anyone in the residence.

Jacques waved his hand and the men scurried up the hill. Two men looped around the back and rendezvoused with the other duo at the front of the castle. "We’re clear," Francois said to Jacques.

"Alright," Jacques said. "Open it up."

Francois and one of the other man opened the large oak door. The hinges groaned in protest to the intrusion. Jacques stepped inside and listened for movement. An eerie silence and the stench of death filled the home of some unidentified victim of the Black Death. He cautiously stepped forward and stopped to allow his eyes to adjust to the murky blackness. After a few more short breaths he whistled through his teeth to his comrades. Stealthily the raiders slipped into the stony silence.

After a few more moments, Jacques lit a torch and continued to survey the area. He went up a staircase and encountered the gruesome sight he’d seen many times before. A plague victim with blackened skin from the disease poisoning the blood. Dead for how long he could not ascertain.

He once again whistled the all clear to his fellow marauders and they too lit torches and fanned out to ransack the house of another soul fallen to the Plague.

The Black Plague was a combination of Bubonic, Pneumonic and Septicemic Plagues. It caused a slow painful death which culminated with violent coughing, blood contamination and the skin turning black. No one was able to escape the disease as it passed from human to human unhindered.

With the booty securely squirreled away in their sacks, the band of thieves exited the castle to make for home, only to be greeted by the local magistrate. "I can see you’ve been paying your last respects to the dead."

* * * * * * *

Within the courts of Louis the XIII the king held a meeting with his advisors. "This plague is destroying my kingdom," the king yelled. "Has no one any answers. It is now invading Paris and I’m concerned for the safety of my family."

The governors from the provinces sat in stunned silence as the king continued his tirade.

"Your majesty," the governor of Toulouse interrupted.

"What is it?"

"Sir, a band of thieves were caught stealing from a local resident dead of the plague are being held in the dungeon of Marsailles."

"Why should I be concerned with a group of thieves?"

"They’ve been in captivity for three months and show no signs of Plague."

"What?" the king said. "That’s impossible. I can’t believe that."

"Yes your majesty, it’s true. The magistrate that brought them in isolated them because he’d caught them coming out of the house of a known plague victim."

"They’re still alive."

"Yes sir."

Louis’ eyes widened and he paced for a moment.

"Bring them to Toulouse and set up a trial immediately. I want to examine them."

"Right away, your majesty."

* * * * * * *

Deep within the bowels of the dungeon of Marsailles, the four thieves hung by their wrists in irons. The door lock clunked with the insertion of the key, then screamed as it was slowly pulled open. Torch light filled the blackness illuminating the gaunt faces of the robbers.

The Magistrate eyed the scum he’d been hunting for months. "Still alive. Huh! I want to know how you are still alive."

No one answered.

Angered by their response, the Magistrate grabbed the closest man by the throat and yelled, "Why are you still alive?"

Jacques rasped, "We will not tell."

"Toulouse," the Magistrate replied releasing the prisoner. "You are very brave men to make prey of the victims of this death plague. You might have escaped the wrath of the plague but you will not escape the wrath of man. You will be sent to Toulouse to answer for your crimes."

* * * * * * *

The four thieves were ushered into the rotund ambient chambers of the Parliament of Toulouse and seated across from a row of elevated benches in a semicircle for the panel of judges. Above the row of a judges a throne, bore the insignia of Louis XIII. A low murmur could be heard from the observation area. The bailiff rose and announced, "All rise." Feet shuffled as those in attendance rose. "Hear ye, hear ye, all those with business before this court approach and be heard."

A single file line of black robbed and powdered wigged judges emerged from behind the center of the benches and peeled off to the right and left, proceeded to each bench and waited for the last judge to take his place. Royal guardsmen emerged to and flanked the throne on the second tier. Another man entered and said, "The King of France, Louis the thirteenth. God save the king.
In came King Louis arrayed in his royal robes. His eyes scanned the court room and he slowly moved to the throne and seated himself. In unison the nine judges sat.

The observatory of visitors, court personnel, defendants took their seats.

The bailiff, still standing, read the charges, "The people of France verses the Thieves of Marsailles. The accused are charged with robbery and murder."

The prosecution stood an approached the semi-circle of judges and King. "Honorable King Louis, members of the Parliament of Toulouse, I bring thee charges against these men of robbery and murder. These men with hearts as black as the plague itself have addeth the burden of violation of our domiciles in thievery to our unrelenting grief. As we watcheth family and neighbors succumb to this horrible scourge, these band of thieves compoundeth our already overwhelming grief by robbing the dead and murdering those who lieth sick and dying. I ask this assembly to burn these lowest of the low at the stake and let them suffer the most horrible death and exacteth this justice speedily." The prosecutor walked back to his seat sneering at the thieves.

The defense for the Thieves arose to speak, before he could say a word the King stood and cut him off. "How was it possible for you to able to be in the proximity of so many sick and dying and not be dead by the plague?"

"Your . . . majesty," the attorney stuttered.

Jacques stood, "If I may?"

The attorney waved his hand and pointed at the podium. He bowed and sat.

Jacques approached and cleared his throat, "Your majesty and members of the court. I am

Jacques Demateau, Our lives are in the hands of this court and I ask if this secret be revealed mercy be extended to myself and my colleagues?"

The King sat with a sigh, "I will grant your request, but on the condition the information proves valuable to me."

With nothing to lose except his life, Jacques began to speak, "Your majesty, my brothers and I come from ancestors dating back to the ancient priests of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. We are apothecaries. Compounders of medicines. We use the oils of plants to heal and protect ourselves from sickness. This is how we were able to avoid the sickness."

Louis moved to the edge of seats and bore into Jacques with the sternest look he could muster.

"You used oils to protect yourself from the plague and that’s it?"

"Yes your majesty."

"Bring him to me," the king roared. He stood and stormed from the room.

* * * * * * *

Guards grabbed Jacques with an iron-fisted grip and dragged him to an upper chamber of the parliament building.

Within the chamber King Louis sat in his splendor still fully robed. A scribe flanked him and four royal guards.

The door to the chamber burst open and Jacques Demateau was flung into the room.

"Leave us," the king said to his guards.

After the guards exited Louis spoke, "Masseur Demateau, I would like you to give me what oils you used to keep the plague from effecting you."

"Your majesty, will you guarantee me I will not be put to death."

"There are no guarantees in life, but let us proceed and I will make that decision after you’ve given me what I want."

Jacques hesitated and did not answer.

"I grow weary of this questioning and will have you immediately executed if you do not give me the information."

Jacques hesitated another brief moment.

"Guar. . ." Louis started to say.

Jacques raised his hand to stop him. "I will tell. The oils are what is known as the essential of the plants. It is the lifeblood of the plant and it how it heals itself. We use steam to extract these oils. We covered our bodies with Lemon, Cinnamon, Clove Bud, Eucalyptus and Rosemary."

"That’s it. That’s all you did. Basic everyday plants."

"That’s all your majesty."

The king grew angry and yelled, "Guards take him away and hang him and the other three."
Louis stormed from the room infuriated by the simplicity of what he’d been told. Common every day plants and herbs made no sense to him.

The king’s scribe sat in the silence for just a moment and scrawled the ingredients and instructions and a note on another piece of paper and tucked it away in his pocket. He capped his inkwell, rolled up his scrolls and scurried out of the room. He grabbed his nephew by the scruff of the neck and pulled him into a dark corner. He pulled the note out of his pocket and gave it to his nephew and said, "You know where to take this."

"Yes uncle." The boy left the room, packed a few things and boarded a ship to England. Where he was greeted by the Duke of Windsor. Who in turn took the lad to castle of King James. The boy gave the note directly to the king.

The king opened the note and it read.

To his majesty, King James of England, please find below a list of ingredients and the instructions on how to obtain them. These ingredients protected four thieves who were apothecaries from the Black Death. They were tried in the Parliament of Toulouse. They will soon be dead by the King of France’s executioners. Use this information to protect your family. God Save the King.

Lemon
Cinnamon
Clove Bud
Eucalyptus
Rosemary

Steam distill the oil from these plants and you will be saved.

James handed the note to his scribe and said, "Enter this information into the Royal Archives and send me the apothecaries immediately."
　
Though the names, situations and places are fiction, a group of four thieves did actually murder and steal from victims of the Black Plague in the countryside of France in 1591. This information is said to be within the Royal Archive of England.

The four thieves used herbs and essential oils to protect themselves against a ravenous plague that wiped out 3/4 of the population of Europe. This blend of oil has been popularized by Young Living Inc. trademarked Thieves blend. However the oils used are not proprietary and can be blended for your own private use to help with your health and wellness.

We offer the Flu Buster on our website http://HealWithEssentialOil.com. For more information about biblical essential oils please visit our http://HealWithOil.com.