by Ann Benson
Though he smarted from the king’s rebuke, Alejandro brushed it off and returned to the gate. There was too much to be done to allow the chastisement to affect him. One hour! he thought. Not nearly enough time. He ran back to the gate and opened the small window in, the portcullis. Matthews and Reed stood outside, looking like huge birds with their beaklike herbal masks. Alejandro instructed them to remove the masks, and they did so, tossing them aside. One landed just outside the short fence that enclosed the horse’s holding area. Matthews’ curious horse lowered his head to the ground and gave the item an inquisitive sniff, then picked it up in his teeth. Deciding that it was not to his liking, he dropped it and moved away to nudge the other horse in a brief but playful interchange.
Alejandro thought little of the incident, being too preoccupied with the goings-on inside the door to make much of it. He used the end of the same flagpole that had marked their path as a means of passing out two hoods made of coarse cloth, with which he bade them cover their heads.
The returning soldier and his charge looked both comical and bizarre in their strange costumes. They would have been mistaken for participants in some ancient heathen ritual, or perhaps a circus farce, were it not for the observers’ knowledge of their mission. Matthews walked through the open gate with swift determination, but the tailor was fearful and hesitant, and looked around in near panic as he made his way to the chapel. His prior visits to Windsor had elicited a more elegant and stately reception, and he was keenly embarrassed to pass his patroness in this disheveled state.
Emboldened by her parent’s departure, Isabella jumped up and down, clapping like an eager child, at the sight of her tailor. “Welcome, Monsieur Reed, and well done, Matthews! I shall reward you both handsomely for your bravery!”
After Isabella’s declaration the crowd felt freed to engage in their own display of approval, and a resounding cheer went up into the otherwise calm twilight, revels of welcome that would have seemed suitable for a returning war hero and a rescued hostage. Matthews gloried in his momentary celebrity, waving his hand in acknowledgment of the appreciation and bowing like a courtier. He strode cockily into the chapel with the meek and confused tailor following him, and disappeared from the crowd’s view.
The chattering throng quickly dispersed, but Alejandro remained behind to speak with the travelers. He stood some distance from one of the barred windows, and called out to Matthews.
“My congratulations on your successful mission and safe return, Matthews,” he said. “There is fresh clothing and a supply of bread and ale in the cupboard. I have tried to anticipate your every need in advance, so that you will be comfortable during your forced confinement.”
Despite that fact that he faced two weeks immured with the dour-looking tailor, Matthews remained in good spirits. He joked, “You seem to have forgotten the willing maid, Doctor.”
“Of course, how stupid of me,” Alejandro apologized, appreciating the man’s good humor. “For now you will have to be content with Monsieur Reed.”
Matthews snickered and shrugged in the direction of the tailor, who was sitting on his bed, staring at the floor in a state of bewilderment over the situation in which he suddenly found himself.
“Perhaps later,” the soldier said. “Right now he is still getting accustomed to his new home. And I myself am nearly spent from this day’s rough journey, so I shall retire soon to my sumptuous bed”—and he gestured toward the straw mat—“regrettably alone.”
“I must ask you to remain awake for a short while longer, for the king himself would speak with you.”
Matthews shrugged again, and commented, “I suppose I can keep my wits about me for a little bit yet, but Master Reed may not be in any state to pay his respects tonight.”
The king appeared almost immediately after Alejandro’s summons. Though he was eager to hear what passed in the outside world, the stories Matthews told were not encouraging. “Deserted cottages are everywhere,” Matthews told him. “Fields of grain stand un-harvested and will surely rot, Sire, if they remain unattended. But the population is so diminished, I fear there are no able men to do the work.”
Matthews then related what he had seen during his brief wait for the tailor to pack his materials and belongings. “There is a plain nearby where it is said that hundreds are interred; indeed, the field looked as if it were freshly plowed, such was the extent of its coverage with new graves. The abbey has only two priests remaining, and there is little business transacted there, God’s or otherwise. The dead meet their Maker unconfessed for lack of priests to hear them, and those who survive stay inside their houses, fearing the contagion.”
Standing nearby, Alejandro observed the exchange between the king and his soldier. As the report progressed, and the severity of England’s plight outside the safety of Windsor became clear, he saw a look of great distress and sadness spread over Edward’s face. The king said nothing, for there was little he could say after such news.
Matthews politely kept his silence for a few minutes, waiting for his sovereign to speak. When no comment came from the pensive monarch, Matthews requested permission to speak again. The king grunted his distracted approval.
“Surely, Sire,” said the soldier from his cage, “this is the end of the world as we have known it.”
Princess Isabella managed to stay away until the following morning. Alejandro, awakened on his cot in the nearby gatehouse, sighed heavily when a soldier advised him of the princess’ presence outside.
“Good morning, Dr. Hernandez,” she chirped gaily. “I would like to ask you some questions about the terms of Master Reed’s confinement.”
As tired as he was, Alejandro knew that he could not put her off. She would continue to pester him until she had the information she wanted. “Yes, Princess, how can I advise you?” he asked, more politely than he felt.
“I would like to know how closely I may approach the chapel windows, or if I might pass through sketches of my ideas for new dresses for Master Reed’s perusal. Surely it will shorten his visit here if he can do some preliminary work while remaining in his temporary ‘suite.’ I am not of a mind to bring him too much inconvenience.”
As if a fortnight of confinement were not inconvenient, he thought. “Your sketches may be given to Master Reed,” the physician stated rather coolly, “but not by your own hand. We will pass them through the service opening. I will be happy to arrange for their delivery if you will give them to me.”
Elated, the princess advised him in a happy tone that she would send a folio of parchments of her own creation, which she said should be treated with the utmost care and given directly to her tailor as soon as possible. Does she even remember our bitter disagreement? he wondered as he watched her walk away. She behaves as if this entire undertaking has been a pleasant and cooperative effort toward a mutually agreeable end. She finds it completely normal for this much fuss to be made in reaction to her demands.
Not long after Isabella left, Adele arrived with the rolled drawings. Alejandro was delighted to see her, for she afforded him a momentary escape from his vigil. As he took the scrolls from her, he said, “Lady Throxwood, your presence warms my heart.”
“It is my heart that is warmed, monsieur. I readily offered my services when the princess sought a messenger for her drawings. She was at first hesitant to send me on what she deemed to be a menial errand, but I convinced her that such important works should be carried by someone who understands their value.”
“Adele,” he said, boldly using her first name, “I can think of no one better suited. I regret that we have so few opportunities to meet, for your company is most pleasing and welcome.”
They conversed briefly about recent events, cherishing the rare stolen moment. Then Adele excused herself reluctantly, saying that Isabella awaited her, and would soon send another lady to find her if she did not return.
“I regret that our paths cross so infrequently,” Alejandro said sadly.
“Then we shall hav
e to find reasons to change those paths so that they are more to our liking,” she answered. “I bid you good afternoon, Doctor, and I look forward to our next meeting with much anticipation.”
His heart pounded as he watched her walk away; he had to force himself to return to the business at hand. After checking on the condition of Matthews and Reed, Alejandro found Sir John and told him, “All seems to be well and calm here. Please pass these scrolls through the service opening to Master Reed. I am in great need of cleansing and refreshment, so I shall leave you now for my own quarters.”
After thanking the knight for his diligent efforts, the physician walked back toward the south wing of the castle, where he could bathe in the privacy of his own apartment. He dismissed the manservant who had prepared his hot bath, then removed all his clothing and lowered himself into the tub of steaming water. He scrubbed every inch of his body vigorously as if to wash away his distaste for the ludicrous exercise in which he had just participated.
Months after his branding the circular scar was still an angry red; soon it would begin to fade. Although the scar would never completely disappear, he might someday—if I live, he thought—wear the collar of his shirt open again.
Just after dawn on the fourth day of the riders’ confinement, in the middle of yet another dream of pursuit by agitated ghouls, Alejandro was roughly shaken awake by his manservant, who poked and shook his arm like an anxious child requiring its mother’s attention.
“Monsieur! Monsieur! You are summoned to the gate! Arise, for Sir John requires your attendance!”
Still groggy, Alejandro rubbed his eyes and peered through his mental haze at the toothless elderly man whose hearty breath betrayed his proximity. He arose quickly and dressed, then followed the guard through the labyrinthine corridors to the main courtyard. The quickness of the soldier’s pace indicated the importance of the mission. Evidently something of great significance had occurred during the night.
He returned the knight’s brisk salute with a quick bow, and asked with trepidation if the cause for his summons was Matthews or Reed.
“Neither,” replied the distressed man, “it is the horse.”
Matthews’ horse was prancing about the pen for no apparent reason, wildly snorting and frothing. He would turn in a wide circle, then abruptly rear up and down and head in the other direction. Now and again he would run up to the railings of the low fence and rub his lathered neck against the rough wood, scratching himself until his neck was raw and bleeding, but finding no apparent relief from his agony. His ankles were visibly swollen; each movement caused the poor animal terrible pain.
“How long has this behavior been going on?”
“I noticed last night before retiring that the animal was skittish and nervous, but it is not entirely unusual for a stallion to behave so, especially if he catches wind of a mare in season. I thought little of it then and went to bed without concern. But this morning he was still prancing. I have not seen this odd behavior before, either in the water-dreading malady or the twisted-stomach disorder that so frequently torments even the strongest horses. I do not understand this animal’s strange dance. But I am certain he is not well. I fear that this one behaves as if he had the plague, and I thought to consult you immediately.”
“And well done,” Alejandro assured him. “If this animal is pestiferous, I fear the worst for Matthews and the tailor.”
Sir John glanced at the chapel, then turned back to Alejandro and said, “Then surely I have sent him to his death, and it will be on my head.”
Alejandro looked at him, pitying his untenable position, and said what the man could not untreasonously say for himself. “It is not on your head or mine, good sir, but that of the princess and her overindulgent father. And time will give us the answer we seek. If we are lucky, there will be no blame to be borne. Let us watch this animal carefully. Perhaps he will recover soon, and our fears will be put to rest. For the time being let us keep this between us.”
Their fears were not put to rest. For the next few hours the horse continued to prance about in a similar manner, but his already frantic pace had quickened, and the frequency of his neck-rubbings increased until there was barely any skin left intact. Soon he began to slow down, but the change of tempo could not be attributed to any improvement in the animal’s condition. He had simply exhausted all of his energy. Finally, the horse was calm, and stood still in the middle of the small pen, his rasping breath quite audible even from the small gate window. His sides heaved erratically with each shallow breath. The animal began to sway slightly, and tried valiantly to maintain its balance, but was finally forced by its own fatigue to give up the brave fight. The sickening sound of a snapping bone accompanied the horse’s crumpling fall to the ground, and Alejandro covered his hands with his face, unable to watch the final death throes of the once magnificent stallion.
“Keep this to yourself yet, Sir John.” He left the old soldier standing there, his head bowed in shame, and headed toward the chapel. There he found Matthews standing with his face between two of the wooden bars, staring out into the courtyard, watching the activities of his comrades as they practiced at swordplay. The man looked well enough, and had made no specific complaints, but Alejandro didn’t want to rely on Matthews’ ability to recognize a symptom worthy of report. He greeted the man, and inquired about his condition.
“I feel quite good, thank you, sir,” was the soldier’s quick response. “Mostly I feel envy that my fellow guards are out there practicing without me. My belly grows fat from this inactivity and I am as sluggish as an old worm.”
His interest piqued by the report of sluggishness, the physician queried him further. “Are you feeling tired, or lethargic?”
“As I said, sir, I feel sluggish, but I am certain it is from the indolent life I lead in this small cell.”
“Has your head ached, or is your neck stiff?”
The soldier replied, “Thankfully, no. I assure you, Doctor, I am unafflicted.”
Alejandro ended the interview with Matthews, and looked around the dim cell for signs of Reed. His eyes finally settled on a round figure bent over the table, intently studying what looked to be the princess’ drawings. He thought to call out to the man, but hesitated, not wishing to alarm him unnecessarily. But he stayed in the area for the remainder of the day, and kept a close eye on the men’s activities, just in case their conditions should suddenly change.
When he was summoned again the next morning, he knew it was not to attend to the horse.
On his arrival at the chapel he found Sir John standing well back from the wooden bars, the entire company of soldiers assembled behind him, all buzzing with alarm. More members of the household arrived every minute, some still in their nightclothes, for the word had quickly spread that something was amiss in the courtyard.
Matthews was huddling in one corner of the chapel, his back pressed against the wall, a look of sheer terror on his face, for the tailor James Reed was slumped over the table, his plump cheek flat against the princess’ parchments, eyes still open and staring out as if their vision persisted through the veil of death. A dribble of vomit clung to the corner of his mouth, which was twisted at the odd angle that could occur only when the body had no ability to countermand it. Were it not for the horror of his situation, the physician thought the patient looked almost bemused, as if he had been surprised in the night and was now contemplating some odd occurrence.
Matthews, quite conversely, found his own situation to be completely without humor. He ran to the barred window when he saw Alejandro, and began to rattle it violently, seeking escape from the ghastly corpse with which he shared occupancy.
“Physician, I beg you, let me out, or I shall surely die!”
Alejandro turned and walked away, steeling himself to the soldier’s screams and frantic pleas for mercy, though his heart ached with pity for the terrified man. He asked Sir John a few questions, then left to seek an audience with the king.
King Edward r
eceived Alejandro in his comfortable sitting room and directed him to a well-padded chair. He immediately noticed the look of grave concern on Alejandro’s face.
“I doubt that you would have had me disturbed for good news, Dr. Hernandez. What grim tidings do you bear?”
“Sire, the tailor Reed has been found dead this morning in the chapel, and although Matthews is yet unafflicted, I fear that he will soon follow Reed.”
Edward contemplated this news for a moment without expression, then asked Alejandro, “What is the proper course of action in this situation?”
“Your Majesty,” he answered, “my inclinations are abhorrent to all civilized men, but we must consider the following course to protect those within these walls.” He paused, and drew in a deep breath, then outlined his plan. The king listened intently.
“You may order it done under my authority. And God grant that your actions are truly justified, or you shall surely burn in hell.”
Alejandro did not doubt that he would.
As Matthews’ screams continued, the courtyard was cleared of onlookers, and the soldiers began piling wood in the very center of the open area. Where is this man’s former lusty bravery? Alejandro wondered, for his incessant sobs and pleas offered a very different view of the otherwise stalwart soldier.
Sir John ordered the remaining soldiers to encircle the pile, which was now covered with twigs and dried leaves as well.
“Make ready an arrow and draw your bows!” he shouted, and his legion quickly obeyed.
He walked to the door of the chapel. He unfastened the bar, then returned to where Matthews could easily see and hear him, while the horrified confinee watched every step.
“Matthews! Remember yourself, and the king you serve,” he said. When Matthews’ whining supplications finally ceased, Sir John ordered, “Drag the tailor’s body out through the door and lay it over the pile of wood.”
