The Plague Tales

by Ann Benson

  From an ancient wooden chest he removed a delicate white nightdress, fashioned from fabric so fragile that it seemed almost translucent. He raised her head up with one hand and pulled the nightdress over it with the other. He had to struggle to get her uncooperative limbs to do his bidding as he drew the gown over them. When he was satisfied that he had made her as comfortable as possible, he pulled fresh bed linens up over her thin form. Then he arranged her hands together, one over the other resting on her belly, and placed a bouquet of dried herbs between them.

  He stood back and regarded her thoughtfully. “I hope you recover your beauty,” he said to her, confident that she could not hear him. Then he thought about what he had just said and prayed quietly, Dear God, I would be happy if she would simply recover. That would be more than enough. He suspected that the extension of her life, should it be granted, would not be an isolated occurrence, but part of some larger purpose.

  He sighed aloud, then reached out and patted her reassuringly on the leg. If only I could see it played out. Would she still be young when it happened, and perhaps bear an important child? Or would she be an old woman, ancient like himself, before any role she might play became obvious to her?

  Would this woman, should he manage to heal her, perhaps become a healer herself? He had always known what would be expected of him, but until the object of his well-rehearsed attentions was actually put before him, he had never bothered to wonder why it was so important for him to succeed. “Well,” he said quietly to the dog at his side, “I probably wouldn’t have understood anyway.”

  The room was awash with the pale glow of candlelight, for his mother had said that too much light would be painful to her eyes if she opened them again. If he was still at this work in the morning, he would draw the shades to protect her from the harsh rays of the sun.

  Through the dim light he saw her stir and went to her side immediately. He placed his hand on her forehead; though her skin was still clammy, she felt cooler. He was pleased and gratified that something he’d done, perhaps the herbal wash, might have made a difference in her comfort.

  “I wish they would come,” he said to the dog. He looked at his pocket watch and sighed. “It’s time to get started.” The dog whined softly in response, and Sarin took a big deep breath. “I’ll just have to get on with it without them, then.” He hoped he would do well.

  Twenty-Three

  Alejandro was confused by the kings ambiguous reply to his urgent message.

  We are once again in your debt. Physician, for the diligence with which you apply yourself to your craft. Please continue your good work in advising me of your discoveries. I, too, shall listen for news of the pestilence from the entirety of the kingdom, and together we shall soon know the truth of this supposed new outbreak. I shall consider your request and give my answer at Canterbury.

  The reply said nothing! How is it that even educated men can use so many words and say so little with them? the physician wondered. The king had no plans to pursue the rumors aggressively, nor did he seem interested in Alejandro’s news about a possible cure. He is too caught up in kingcraft and fails to see that there will soon be no subjects in need of his monarchal service. But I do not share his casual indifference.

  He rode back to the burned cottage and walked among the blackened ruins. In the center of what was once their home, he found the charred skeletal remains of the woman and her two daughters, and thought momentarily of adding their graves to those already scattered about the yard. But he dared not touch the unburied corpses, in fear of inviting the stealthy contagion to infect him as well.

  This cannot be the end of it. There must be others nearby. I am missing something.

  He thought of going ahead with the desiccation without official sanction, but the memories of his experience in Aragon kept such thoughts in his head. He spent the rest of the day inquiring among the local people, and he grew ever more frustrated by the disparity between what his logical mind told him should be true, and what reality presented instead. As the shadows gradually grew longer, he turned toward the safety of his home, having neglected to prepare for overnight travel.

  Thirst and hunger were gnawing at his belly when he came upon a small monastery, and as it was the custom of some Christian orders to give hospitality to the travelworn, he rang the bell, hoping for some refreshment before continuing. When no one answered, he rang again, but again his request for entry went unheeded.

  When he could no longer politely contain his growing curiosity, he tried the door, and found it unlocked. He opened it, planning to enter the monastery uninvited. But before he was through the door, the familiar stench hit his nostrils with enough force to make him turn and run back out again, gagging and gulping for fresh air as if he were drowning. He did not need to investigate further, for there could be no doubt about the origin of the choking odor. And though it was only two days before he was to ride to Canterbury, he resolved to leave at first light, for he knew he must convey this knowledge to the king.

  But when he awoke after a fitful night, he looked out his window to see a strong wind whipping the trees around, causing them to shed branches and limbs as if they were mere twigs, and the rain poured down in ceaseless torrents. He was forced to delay his departure another day, until there was a reasonable chance that he would arrive at his destination unscathed, for in this mission he could not risk failure.

  Adele refastened the buttons on her sleeves, then rearranged her skirts over her chemise. Nearby, Nurse wiped her hands on a linen towel, sighing heavily as she did so. This was a difficult turn of events, and she feared for the soul of this lady.

  “There can be no doubt. Your menses have ceased for two moons, and your womb is soft to my touch. By midwinter, God willing, you’ll hold a babe in your arms.”

  Lost in turmoil, Adele made no comment on receiving the news. When she had first begun to suspect that life grew within her, it was a terrifying thought, for this fatherless child could not reside in Isabella’s household. The child Adele carried was no Kate but the bastard of a Spaniard, and until he was knighted, Alejandro would be considered a poor match for the aristocratic Lady Throxwood. She would have to keep her condition secret until after his dubbing.

  “If you love me well,” Adele said to Nurse, “as I know you loved my gentle mother, please do not say one word of this to anyone, especially my lady Isabella. I would share this knowledge with the child’s father before it is known in the palace.”

  “Lady,” Nurse said with some hesitation, for she was certain of the child’s paternity and feared for the mismatched pair, “if you are of a mind to be rid of this burden, it can be arranged. Many a midwife has plucked an unwanted seed from its mother’s womb, even among the highborn.”

  Adele already knew that it was possible for women of stature and privilege to terminate an undesirable pregnancy but, in her confusion, had not even considered it. She almost resented the additional complication introduced by the well-meaning old woman. Now that her condition was a certainty, there was much to reflect on. Her head began to ache, and she rubbed her forehead lightly. And even though she felt concern for her situation, she had already spent many happy hours dreaming of the fine life that she and Alejandro might soon enjoy, and their child, too, if things went well. Most of her life had been spent in service to her friend, but it was time that she had something of her own. Surely Isabella could not resent it.

  “There is simply too much to think about!” Adele said, and rolled over, hiding her face from view.

  Nurse stepped away from the small bed and began to bustle around the room, tending to small tasks, busying herself with meaningless chores so as to afford the lady some privacy. “God curse all fleas!” she said, slapping the back of her hand. “May I live to know just one spring without the annoying little blighters!”

  Adele did not reply but groaned as a cold wave of nausea spread over her. She rolled over onto her other side and drew up her knees to offset the discomfort. Hearing the
sound of distress, Nurse rushed back to her side.

  “Many women who are newly with child suffer torments of the belly,” she said, “but it will pass. In two turns of the moon you will feel no discomfort. And the child will quicken within you! You will feel his small kicks. It is the most wonderful pleasure when that joyous time comes.”

  “Ah, gentle nurse, how you comfort me,” she said, holding the old woman’s hand. “I had thought these pains were God’s punishment for my failure to be chaste.”

  “Not so,” Nurse said sympathetically. “Few escape. I venture to guess that the Holy Virgin herself suffered so.”

  Adele closed her eyes, prepared for a new onslaught of cramping, and said, “Then I shall pray for her guidance and protection.”

  By late morning Adele felt more nearly herself. She ate a small repast, and spent some time at embroidery. She was bent over her stitching when Isabella returned from court and told her that King Edward wished to speak with her privately.

  “But you look so pale,” the princess said. “Are you ill?”

  “A bit tired, perhaps,” she said. Looking in Isabella’s mirror, she saw that what the princess had said was true. She pinched her cheeks with her fingertips, and they reddened. She turned to Isabella, who smiled with approval.

  “Why in God’s name does he wish to see me?” she asked.

  “I do not know,” Isabella said lightly, pretending ignorance.

  Oh, dear God, no, Adele suddenly thought. It cannot be. Not now. Timidly, she asked her mistress, “Has he an offer of marriage for me?”

  Seeing the look of concern on Adele’s face, the princess laughed. “Do not be concerned, my dear companion. I have heard nothing of any offer. I would speculate that he wishes to speak with you on matters concerning your holdings. But do not let my father’s love of hearing his own voice keep you in court too long. When you return we shall try on our robes for the ceremonies. They have finally arrived, and not a moment too soon!”

  Dragging herself to the king’s court, Adele wondered if she should have left the chamber at all. Her stomach ills returned in full force, and she had to stop to balance herself against the wall. She fought off her urge to retch and gathered her composure, then proceeded toward the great hall.

  “Why, you are as white as the purest linen!” the king said when he saw her. “What ails you, lady?”

  “It is just a passing grippe, Sire. I am, in truth, much improved over this morning. I beg your indulgence of my pallid appearance.”

  The king declined to inquire further, though he was pleased to hear that she felt better. He offered her a seat, which she gratefully accepted.

  “There is a mission of great importance which I beg you to consider,” the king began. “I would ask you to help in making some important preparations regarding Isabella’s upcoming nuptials.”

  Confused, Adele said, “Your Majesty, I do not understand. Is my lady newly betrothed?”

  “What, has the neglectful upstart failed to advise you of our great good news? Why, you would be her first confidante! How unusually gracious of her to allow me the joy of being the first to tell you! We have nearly completed arrangements for Isabella to be wed to the Bohemian Charles, who will soon be crowned emperor. You are to travel there with her, and remain for a year as her friend and comfort. This will allow adequate time for her to make an adjustment to her new husband. She would not impose this travel upon you herself, but it is my sincere belief that your presence will give her much joy, and will enable the union of England and Bohemia to be more firmly cemented.”

  When the color drained even further from her face, Edward said, “Lady Adele? If you are unwell we may discuss this later.…”

  Shaking, she said, “No, Sire, my discomfort will pass.… I am unaccustomed to good news these days.…”

  “I will not keep you, then, for two such bits of good news, one for yourself, and one for Isabella, must be more than your constitution can bear. Tell me, then I will give you leave, can I count on good service, as your father gave me in France, from his daughter in Bohemia?”

  Adele could not answer, for it was not within her power to do so. Overwhelmed by the implications of the king’s request, she fainted and slumped over in her chair, unconscious.

  Sir John Chandos was nearby. The great warrior rushed over and picked her up easily. He carried her back to the women’s quarters unaided. There, Nurse took charge, and instructed him to deposit Adele’s limp form carefully on the bed. When he had done so, she promptly and boldly ordered him to leave.

  “Be off, now. This is no place for a man, or are you of a mind to learn more about the women’s curse under my tutelage?”

  The good Sir John, unaccustomed to the intimate ways of women, was only too glad to depart. As soon as he had gone, Nurse began to undo the bodice of Adele’s dress and called for Isabella to help.

  The frightened princess fumbled at the laces, but her clumsy fingers were of little use. “What ails her?” she demanded of Nurse.

  Nurse said nothing and would not meet Isabella’s eyes.

  “Speak, woman!” Isabella ordered.

  When Nurse remained conspicuously silent, Adele, who had regained consciousness, relieved her of the promise to keep her secret from the lady she served. “I will explain for myself,” she said thinly. “My malady is little more than that of any breeding woman. I carry Alejandro’s child.”

  Borrowing Adele’s habitual gesture, Isabella crossed herself. Shocked by Adele’s admission, the princess withdrew from the bedside and left Nurse to minister to Adele’s needs. She paced about the room like an angry cat; she was confused, and desperate to keep her situation under control. First she felt rage, that her dearest friend would commit an act of such underhanded betrayal; and then jealousy of the closeness Adele shared with the father of her child, while she herself, a royal princess, had no success in love.

  When she had calmed herself a bit, she returned to the bedside, where Adele lay with a damp cloth draped over her forehead. “Oh, Adele, I thought you loved me well! Among those around me, I thought you would be the last to abandon me.”

  Adele tried to sit but managed only to rise up on her elbows. “Isabella, how can you doubt me? I have been by your side since we were but little girls!”

  “But you have let your love for me be sullied by the love of that ungodly Spaniard. First my father succumbs to his restrictive influence, and then the vile trickster steals your precious affection and loyalty from me!”

  “You judge him too harshly! And I gave my love willingly.”

  Isabella took Adele’s hand in hers. “He is beneath you. He does not deserve you. You are of the most noble lineage, and he is a common Spaniard.”

  Her anger beginning to rise, Adele defended Alejandro. “You are blinded by your dislike for the restrictions he imposed upon us, the very restrictions that saved our lives. You cannot see past your anger! And if you knew him as well as I do, you would find him far from common.”

  “No doubt you know him very well,” Isabella said, “judging by your condition.” Then she turned and ran angrily away from the bedside, leaving Adele stunned by the viciousness of her remarks and alone in her misery.

  How could this have happened, and at the worst of all possible times? Isabella asked herself. She knew that a woman with such a burden in her belly presented a grave danger to the rest of a traveling party, whose need to move quickly could be dramatically compromised by such a vulnerable member. And what monarch would send an unwed lady to a foreign court, with the visible evidence of sinfulness protruding from her swollen abdomen? Not King Edward—of this Isabella was certain.

  What to do? O Blessed Virgin, what is my proper course of action?

  Her melancholy self-absorption was interrupted by Kate’s small tug at her sleeve. Isabella snapped at the child, “Oh, you! What is it now?”

  “Please, sister, what ails the lady?”

  “She ails with the curse of being female, which you yourself
shall soon enough know, and then perhaps your childlike pestering will finally come to an end! Now, get out, and do not bother me today!”

  Accustomed though she was to Isabella’s abuse, Kate was nevertheless stung by her sister’s hurtful invective. Feeling more than usually unwelcome, she curtsied quickly, and ran out of the room, fighting back hot tears of rejection.

  Later that day, when Adele’s color had returned a bit and the urge to retch had finally released her from its grip, Isabella approached her.

  “I would not have us angry at each other,” the princess said. “We are far too long together to let anything come between us. Can you forgive me for my cruel treatment of you?”

  “Oh, Isabella,” Adele said, greatly relieved by her mistress’ apparent change of heart, “I would forgive you almost anything. And I would share my joy with you, for despite the difficulties of my situation, I am more joyful than I ever dreamed possible.” She gripped her friend’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “Oh, please, Isabella, can you not intervene for me with your father? Help me to convince him that I must remain behind; help me to show him that Alejandro will be a deserving husband for me.”

  So, Isabella thought, you will choose him. She drew her hands away from Adele’s grip and said quietly, “All right. I will try. If it will make you happy.”

  Adele reached out and hugged her with all of her might. Isabella, smiling weakly, broke free of the embrace and said, “Now we must try our gowns for Canterbury. They have arrived just this afternoon, while you were confined to bed.”

  And all the while, as the ladies of her entourage tried on their finery, Isabella feigned gaiety, and falsely assured Adele that she would do her best to intervene on her behalf with the king. In her soul she boiled with the humiliation of rejection, but her pride would not allow her to show it, even before her most intimate companion. Like a wounded child she made her quiet plans for revenge, but like a cunning princess she kept them to herself. Soon enough Adele would know the heavy cost of her betrayal, and Isabella was sure it would never happen again.