by Ann Benson
I most humbly and sincerely request your holy advice in the settlement of these matters. We are in special need of a successor to the late archbishop. Surely there is a suitable candidate among Avignon’s capable bishops, or a prelate among our own people who can serve well in this capacity. I leave this decision in the hands of God and Your Holiness, but I remind you most humbly of our wish to fill the seat with due haste.
It is said by your envoys that your physician is wise in methods of preventing the spread of contagion. Truly, he has done well in his role as the protector of your holy person. I would have you send to us a physician well versed in those preventive crafts, for we have little experience, and must take care to protect our Isabella from the fate suffered by her sister. She is the favorite of her mother, who has already borne the pain of seeing one of her daughters precede her into eternity. I would spare my good queen another such loss, God willing.
I have begun to consider other conjugal arrangements for Isabella. There is the possibility of a marriage with the family of Brabant; the duke has proposed that his eldest son be wedded to our daughter. I hesitate to solidify the coupling for fear of weakening our bloodline; Isabella would be closely cousined to her bridegroom, and Your Holiness has made known his opinion that such matches produce weak and often witless offspring. Whilst we are convinced of the vigor of our lineage, we are suspect of Brabant. My queen and I seek your word on this tender of alliance. And Isabella herself still smarts from the shame of her recent rejection, which is brought to mind in the presence of the Brabants.
We have not yet entered a state of anarchy on our fair island, but it cannot be far away. My campaign in France is at a standstill. There is much uncertainty here, and my good knights advise against pursuing the siege just now. Every day the plague takes more victims, making no distinction between the wretched and the highborn. The farmers cannot bring in their harvests for lack of able hands to swing the scythes. Barley stands bolting in the fields, and honey goes ungathered, hence there is no mead. Our livestock are unattended; some have already fallen prey to the same pest, and their carcasses spoil the pastures and foul the air. Our whole world is writhing in the devil’s hands, squirming to escape the path of the plague, but every day more and more perish horribly.
My queen and I, together with all of our royal house, await your wise response to our queries. We pray that it will be sent by swift riders, for this dreaded affliction takes its victims whimsically, having no regard for the best plans of even the mightiest lord. Prostrate at the feet of Your Holiness and imploring the favor of its apostolic benediction, I have the honor to be, Very Holy Father, with the deepest veneration of Your Holiness, the most humble and obedient servant and son,
Edward Rex
Pope Clement VI finished reading the king’s letter, then fanned himself pensively with the scroll. The events chronicled in Edward’s missive required thoughtful attention, and under the elaborate isolation imposed by his personal physician, Guy de Chauliac, Pope Clement had plenty of time to think.
Monsieur le docteur had decreed that the pope should have little or no contact with others for as long as the plague persisted. He had entombed Clement in his private apartment, ordering fires to be lit in all the hearths throughout the spacious suites. The windows were barred shut, and the doors were opened only with the physician’s specific permission. Clement was advised to wear long-sleeved, tight-fitting garments and to keep his head covered at all times. His blandly prepared food was served in minute portions, for de Chauliac believed that the sin of gluttony enhanced a person’s susceptibility to disease.
Miserably rubbing his chin, Clement thought to himself that for a man of his worldly tastes, this monastic life was worse than death. De Chauliac was firm in his conviction that infection was a result of direct contact with the contagion, but could not specify how the contagion traveled, so he had simply ordered that Clement remain isolated from everything.
Having been thus deprived of all pleasures, the pope was naturally quite irritable, a condition not improved by Edward’s letter. He pulled the velvet bell cord hanging near his couch, and waited for Guy de Chauliac to enter. The physician quietly let himself in and knelt before the pope, kissing his ring in a display of submission.
“Stand up, de Chauliac, for I find your gesture in-genuine. We both know that it is I who submit myself to you, rather than the other way around. I long for the day when this pest will pass and I can properly chastise you for the punishment you have inflicted upon me.”
But Clement was no fool; he knew that Avignon had lost the greater portion of its people to the plague, and he himself was still very much alive. He knew that his continued health could not be due to simple luck.
De Chauliac rose up as he was bidden to do; he towered over the sitting pope, who gazed upward in disgust. “Your Holiness,” the physician said in a sugary voice, “how may I serve you?”
“Truly, monsieur, you have served me too well already. I would have you release me from this unholy captivity.”
De Chauliac was always prepared for this complaint from his spoiled patient. “I humbly remind Your Grace that our efforts to protect your health have thus far been quite successful.”
“I am aware of your success, de Chauliac, but I tire of your Spartan methods. Surely this will not be necessary much longer.”
“Holiness, I have just this morning received the report of the medical faculty of the University of Paris, written at the command of our noble King Philip. A most learned group of physicians and astrologers have put their considerable intellect to the task of solving this very tricky question. They are of the opinion that this pestilence was ordained by a most unusual celestial occurrence. Almighty God set the planet Saturn, a stubborn yet quite impatient body, in near perfect alignment with the bawdy and jocular Jupiter, normally a rather unremarkable conjunction; their paths intersected in the heavenly area known to be under the influence of Aquarius. This heavenly meeting has in the past produced some unusual events, such as small floods, poor crops, and the like. Unfortunately, the arrival of Mars with its bellicose temperament added a deadly character to what would have otherwise gone unnoticed. Mars is enamored of war, and caused Jupiter and Saturn to do battle with one another. It is this unfortunate mix of qualities that has allowed the pestilence to dominate our lives.”
Clement deplored the continued influence of astrology on the followers of Christianity, but could not seem to discourage the practice of the fatalistic science. “Are you in agreement with these findings, monsieur?”
Ever the careful diplomat, de Chauliac replied, “My Prince, I am not of adequate intellect to disagree. These are very wise men, the most learned in our realm, and they set their minds diligently to His Majesty’s task. The heavenly conditions they describe could easily influence events on earth in a most malevolent manner.”
The pope, annoyed by de Chauliac’s wordy nonsense, fanned himself again. “I would still know the expected duration of my confinement here, and you have not given me your answer.”
De Chauliac smiled graciously at his patron and, with his customary verbal skill, removed himself neatly from this potential trap. “We are but men, attempting to explain the plan of God, who makes His plans known to no one. I beg you to be patient, and remain in seclusion. This will pass in due time.”
And though patience was not one of the pontiff’s more notable qualities, Clement was wise enough to know that his advisor’s words were at least half true, and he resigned himself to his hated isolation. “Monsieur, the angels will laugh when I survive this scourge only to be felled by the random strike of God’s lightning. As I wing my way to heaven, I will resent this cloistering terribly.”
De Chauliac allowed himself a small laugh, relieved to have the situation in hand once again.
Then Clement held forward Edward’s letter and gave it to de Chauliac, who read it quickly. “These events are most distressing, Your Holiness.”
“Indeed!” Clement repli
ed. “It was settled, this matter of the marriage! And now all our clever diplomatic efforts are for naught. An alliance between Spain and England would have been of great benefit to our Holy Church. When Pedro is king in Spain, he will give more thought to matters affecting the Church than Edward will in England; he might have influenced Edward to be more of that mind through his daughter Joanna.”
De Chauliac mused, “Has not the Princess Isabella already refused Pedro?”
“Yes! And she influences her father most disagreeably! She is altogether too headstrong. She made her dislike for Pedro known to Edward as soon as the Castilian match was proposed. The fool occasionally makes the mistake of consulting with his children prior to consummating an arrangement, as if their opinions could be of value in determining the outcome of such weighty decisions! He indulges her. I have heard from my ambassadors that the child puts him in mind of his mother.”
“To whom he owes his very throne, by a circuitous route,” de Chauliac observed. De Chauliac knew that Clement’s “ambassadors” were nothing more than spies sent to keep a constant measure on the influence of the Catholic Church on the English court; Edward knew it too. “Then I do not understand why it is to our advantage to protect her. If she is as willful and wild as is rumored, we will be hard pressed to control her.”
“But we must not underestimate her importance as a means of cementing our hold on England. That she is lavished and pampered is of no concern to us. She is most importantly the mother of future kings, and may herself be a queen of some influence someday. God willing, she will outgrow her petulant behavior as her beauty fades, and will begin to show some of her royal breeding. She is, after all, the daughter of the king of England and a noblewoman of considerable lineage.”
“Then I shall pray diligently that God will guide you in these matters.” De Chauliac knew that Clement would apply his considerable statecraft to Edward’s requests, and would choose well for the bishopric at Canterbury. The physician’s more immediate concern was complying with Edward’s other demand for a doctor who could protect his children as de Chauliac had protected Clement.
He knew he had no medical craft comparable to the diplomatic finesse displayed by his shrewd patron, though he would never admit to his ignorance. Despite his extensive education and his official status as papal physician, Guy de Chauliac was certain that he knew no more about the cause of the terrible plague than did a common fishwife. All he could do was what he had already done: isolate the healthy patient in the hopes of keeping him away from whatever it was that brought on the illness, and continue those treatments that he hoped would work. He had no direct evidence that any of his ministrations made the slightest bit of difference, but Clement seemed impressed by his efforts, so he kept them up.
He knew it would be no easy task to choose a protector for Edward’s children. There were diplomatic considerations, more than medical. The shrewd and cynical King Edward III, who had proved himself to be a very able ruler despite the weaknesses he might have inherited from his pathetic father, distrusted the French, and would not tolerate a French physician. Most of Avignon’s physicians had already died, and many of those remaining were Jews, and therefore even more unsuited than a Frenchman for attendance on the royal family of England. He privately thought that Clement was too lenient on the Jews of Avignon, especially now when so many of the church’s communicants were ready to blame them for the plague. To foster that belief would divert the common folks’ attention away from the shortcomings of the clergy and the medical establishment in their handling of the pestilence.
He would simply have to see them all and then choose as carefully as possible. But not too carefully, for the physician’s influence must not become too strong. “Holiness,” he said, interrupting his patient’s fanning, “it would be a wise course of action to issue a papal edict requiring all physicians in Avignon to appear before you. I will then be able to make a proper choice. We must be sure to send a man whose company will not be offensive to the family, especially the princess. We will train many men, and therefore have a goodly number of candidates from which to make our final selection. But since they will all be assembled, would it not seem wise to send out emissaries to all the European courts? Why limit our influence to England?”
The pope’s eyes widened. “De Chauliac, you are brilliant! Surely, no one would dare to protest. Find all the available physicians and bring them here at noon on Monday next. You shall personally oversee their training.”
“And while I am thus preoccupied, who shall see to Your Holiness’ needs?”
The pope smiled. “You are too cunning, de Chauliac. I see that I shall not be able to escape you. Do not fear, I shall obey your edicts. But now I shall reply to Edward, for he will want to know the good news.”
Clement went to his writing desk and pulled out a parchment scroll. Since his isolation had begun, de Chauliac would not allow him to use the services of his scribe, and he had been forced to write all of his own correspondence.
It will occupy my mind for a time, he thought, glad to have a task. He dipped his pen in encre noir and began to write.
Beloved Brother in Christ,
We are distressed to learn of the recent demise of John, Archbishop of Canterbury, and we are grateful to Your Majesty for so quickly conveying the news, that we may more swiftly act to ameliorate his loss. And we offer our prayers for your departed daughter Joanna. No doubt your anguish over her loss is limitless; it is a pain that cannot be described by words alone. And still, brave Edward, you are diligent in your stewardship of the Holy Church! Even in your bereavement your thoughts turn to the protection of Christ’s influence in England. Such nobility of action will surely be rewarded by Almighty God, when you meet Him at last in your eternal rest, which we hope will be many years hence. We are grateful for your strength in these troubled times.
We receive with interest your notion of wedding Isabella to the young duke of Brabant. We admit to some concern over the nearness of the couple’s kinship, and commend your patience in delaying the consummation of the match. Our prayers over this matter shall be immediately directed to heaven and, God willing, we will soon have His guidance on this important matter.
Advise Isabella to be patient, dear brother; she has yet to reach her full flower, and will soon be well and happily married. Our ambassadors tell us that she is a high-spirited beauty, with a great wit and considerable charm. She must not despair of her spinster condition.
Our physician de Chauliac receives with thanks your praise for his considerable medical accomplishments. As you have requested, we shall send a physician trained by de Chauliac himself, in the hope of protecting your cherished offspring from the terrible scourges of the pest. You must see that his orders are strictly obeyed; do not allow the princess’ high spirit to lead her astray. She must follow his advice diligently and pray daily for continued health.
Noble King, we suffer here immeasurably; it is impossible to convey to you the true condition of fair Avignon. Every day hundreds die and are swiftly buried, or if no grave is readily dug, the corpses are left in the river to await their eternal repose. It is as if God would eliminate our entire race. We wonder what sin has been done to bring about His mighty wrath. Mind your health well, and follow our emissary’s advice. We implore you to protect yourself and your noble family, and pray daily that Christ and His blessed Mother will watch over you continually.
Swift riders will bear this message to you, that you may be quickly relieved of your anxiety over these grave matters. We will dispatch the full expedition as soon as it may be properly organized. In these terrible times we must take every precaution that their journey is safely completed.
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sanctus, we send our greatest hopes for your continued welfare, and for the prosperity of your kingdom.
Clement VI
Bishop of Avignon
Clement handed the letter to de Chauliac, who read it carefully. When he had finished, he grinned
and said, “Edward will think we are sending a spy into his very household. By now he has had second thoughts about the wisdom of his request. So it matters little whom we send. The man will get little cooperation from the king who requested his presence.”
“But still,” said Clement, “it is amusing to know that we can create such confusion in the royal household. So we shall send him a physician. We will send the most enthusiastic and dedicated physician we can find. And then we shall rest well in the knowledge that we are still a thorn in the side of our dear English brother.”
Alejandro awoke to the gripping pain of grief in the small silent house, which seemed cavernous to him with the widow gone and Hernandez dead. He had never felt so alone; the only people he knew in Avignon were the bigoted apothecary and the morose Widow Selig. He was lost in his sorrow. There was no one to comfort him for the loss of the gruff man who had become like a brother to him.
He felt like a weasel as he went through all the cupboards in search of something, anything, that felt familiar, but nothing was there except the ever-present droppings of the mice and rats that infested nearly every home, even the most pristine. And from these familiar things, he took no comfort, only revulsion. He sat in silence at the bare dining-room table, eating a crust of bread and some cheese he had found in the pantry. When he could eat no more, he retrieved his tools from Hernandez’s bedchamber and washed them in the kitchen bucket. I will need to bring his body downstairs for the cart, he thought miserably, envisioning his friend’s limbs protruding from the siderails like pale sticks. But I cannot face it now. Wrapping the tools in one of Hernandez’s old shirts, he headed for his new surgery, thinking he would find some distraction there.
The people on the streets slunk past him as he made his way down the narrow street. As he approached the surgery, he could see a notice of some sort hanging on a nail in the door. He took it down and examined the seal more carefully, deciphering the Latin inscription that had been pressed into the rough circle of wax.
