In the Days of Chivalry: A Tale of the Times of the Black Prince

by Evelyn Everett-Green

  CHAPTER XX. MINISTERING SPIRITS.

  "The sickness in the town! Alackaday! Woe betide us all! It will be nextwithin our very walls. Holy St. Catherine protect us! May all the Saintshave mercy upon us! In Guildford! why, that is scarce five short milesaway! And all the men and the wenches are flying as for dear life,though if what men say be true there be few enough places left to flyto! Why, Joan, why answerest thou not? I might as well speak to a blockas to thee. Dost understand, girl, that the Black Death is at our verydoors -- that all our people are flying from us? And yet thou sittestthere with thy book, as though this were a time for idle fooling. I amfair distraught -- thy father and brother away and all! Canst thou notsay something? Hast thou no feeling for thy mother? Here am I nighdistracted by fear and woe, and thou carriest about a face as calm as ifthis deadly scourge were but idle rumour."

  Joan laid down her book, came across to her mother, and put her stronghand caressingly upon her shoulder. Poor, weak, timid Lady Vavasour hadnever been famed for strength of mind in any of the circumstances oflife, and it was perhaps not wonderful that this scare, reaching herears in her husband's absence, should drive her nearly frantic with terror.

  For many days reports of a most disquieting nature had been pouring in.Persons who came to Woodcrych on business or pleasure spoke of nothingbut the approach of the Black Death. Some affected to make light of it,protested that far too much was being made of the statements of ignorantand terrified people, and asserted boldly that it would not attack thewell-fed and prosperous classes; whilst others declared that the wholecountry would speedily be depopulated, and whispered gruesome tales ofthose scenes of death and horror which were shortly to become so common.Then the inhabitants of isolated houses like Woodcrych received visitsfrom travelling peddlers and mountebanks of all sorts, many disguised inOriental garb, who brought with them terrible stories of the spread ofthe distemper, at the same time offering for sale certain herbs andsimples which they declared to be never-failing remedies in case anyperson were attacked by the disease; or else they besought the credulousto purchase amulets or charms, or in some cases alleged relics blessedby the Pope, which if always worn upon the person would effectuallyprevent the onset of the malady. After listening greedily (as theservants in those houses always loved to do) to any story of ghastlyhorror which these impostors chose to tell them, they were thankful tobuy at almost any price some antidote against the fell disease; and evenLady Vavasour had made many purchases for herself and her daughter ofquack medicines and talismans or relics.

  But hitherto no one had dared to whisper how fast the distemper wasencroaching in this very district. Men still spoke of it as though itwere far off, and might likely enough die out without spreading, so thatnow it was with terror akin to distraction that the poor lady heardthrough her servants that it had well-nigh reached their own doors. Oneof the lackeys had had occasion to ride over to the town that very day,and had come back with the news that people there were actually dying inthe streets. He had seen two men fall down, either dead or stricken fordeath, before he could turn his beast away and gallop off, and the shopswere shut and the church bell was tolling, whilst all men looked in eachother's faces as if afraid of what they might see there.

  Sir Hugh and his son were far away from Woodcrych at one of their newerpossessions some forty miles distant, and in their absence Lady Vavasourfelt doubly helpless. She shook off Joan's hand, and recommenced heragitated pacing. Her daughter's calmness was incomprehensible apathy toher. It fretted her even to see it.

  "Thou hast no feeling, Joan; thou hast a heart of stone," she cried,bursting into weak weeping. "Why canst thou not give me help or counselof some sort? What are we to do? What is to become of us? Wouldst haveus all stay shut up in this miserable place to die together?"

  Joan did not smile at the feeble petulance of the half-distracted woman.Indeed it was no time for smiles of any sort. The peril around and aboutwas a thing too real and too fearful in its character to admit of anylightness of speech; and the girl did not even twit her mother with themany sovereign remedies purchased as antidotes against infection, thoughher own disbelief in these had brought down many laments from LadyVavasour but a few days previously.

  Brought face to face with the reality of the peril, these wonderfulmedicines did not inspire the confidence the sanguine purchasers hadhoped when they spent their money upon them. Lady Vavasour's hope seemednow to lie in flight and flight alone. She was one of those personswhose instinct is always for flight, whatever the danger to be avoided;and now she was eagerly urging upon Joan the necessity for immediatedeparture, regardless of the warning of her calmer-minded daughter thatprobably the roads would be far more full of peril than their own housecould ever be, if they strictly shut it up, lived upon the produce oftheir own park and dairy, and suffered none to go backwards and forwardsto bring the contagion with them.

  Whether Joan's common-sense counsel would have ever prevailed over theagitated panic of her mother is open to doubt, but all chance of gettingLady Vavasour to see reason was quickly dissipated by a piece of newsbrought to the mother and daughter by a white-faced, shivering servant.

  The message was that the lackey who had but lately returned fromGuildford, whilst sitting over the kitchen fire with his cup of mead,had complained of sudden and violent pains, had vomited and fallen downupon the floor in a fit; whereat every person present had fled in wilddismay, perfectly certain that he had brought home the distemper withhim, and that every creature in the house was in deadly peril.

  Lady Vavasour's terror and agitation were pitiful to see. In vain Joanstrove to soothe and quiet her. She would listen to no words of comfort.Not another hour would she remain in that house. The servants, some ofwhom had already fled, were beginning to take the alarm in good earnest,and were packing up their worldly goods, only anxious to be gone. Horsesand pack horses were being already prepared, for Lady Vavasour had givenhalf-a-dozen orders for departure before she had made up her mind whatto do or where to go.

  Now she was resolved to ride straight to her husband, without drawingrein, or exchanging a word with any person upon the road. Such of theservants as wished to accompany her might do so; the rest might do asthey pleased. Her one idea was to be gone, and that as quickly as possible.

  She hurried away to change her dress for her long ride, urging Joan tolose not a moment in doing the same; but what was her dismay on herreturn to find her daughter still in her indoor dress, though she wasforwarding her mother's departure by filling the saddlebags withprovisions for the way, and laying strict injunctions upon the trustyold servants who were about to travel with her to give every care totheir mistress, and avoid so far as was possible any place where therewas likelihood of catching the contagion. They were to bait the horsesin the open, and not to take them under any roof, and all were to carrytheir own victuals and drink with them. But that she herself was not tomake one of the party was plainly to be learned by these many andprecise directions.

  This fact became patent to the mother directly she came downstairs, andat once she broke into the most incoherent expression of dismay andterror; but Joan, after letting her talk for a few minutes to relieveher feelings, spoke her answer in brief, decisive sentences.

  "Mother, it is impossible for me to go. Old Bridget, as you know, isill. It is not the distemper, it is one of the attacks of illness towhich she has been all her life subject; but not one of these foolishwenches will now go near her. She has nursed and tended me faithfullyfrom childhood. To leave her here alone in this great house, to live ordie as she might, is impossible. Here I remain till she is better. Thinknot of me and fear not for me. I have no fears for myself. Go to ourfather; he will doubtless be anxious for news of us. Linger not here.Men say that those who fear the distemper are ever the first victims.Farewell, and may health and safety be with you. My place is here, andhere I will remain till I see my way before me."

  Lady Vavasour wept and lamented, but did not delay her own departure onaccount of her
obstinate daughter. She gave Joan up for lost, but shewould not stay to share her fate. She had already seen something of thequiet firmness of the girl, which her father sometimes cursed asstubbornness, and she felt that words would only be thrown away uponher. Lamenting to the last, she mounted her palfrey, and set her trainof servants in motion; whilst Joan stood upon the top step of the flightto the great door, and waved her hand to her mother till the cortegedisappeared down the drive. A brave and steadfast look was upon herface, and the sigh she heaved as she turned at last away seemed one ofrelief rather than of sorrow.

  Lonely as might be her situation in this deserted house, it could notbut be a relief to her to feel that her timid mother would shortly beunder the protection of her husband, and more at rest than she couldever hope to be away from his side. He could not keep the distemper atbay, but he could often quiet the restless plaints and causeless terrorsof his weak-minded spouse.

  As she turned back into the silent house she was aware of two figures inthe great hall that were strange there, albeit she knew both well asbelonging to two of the oldest retainers of the place, an old man andhis wife, who had lived the best part of their lives in Sir Hugh'sservice at Woodcrych.

  "Why, Betty -- and you also, Andrew -- what do ye here?" asked Joan,with a grave, kindly smile at the aged couple.

  With many humble salutations and apologies the old folks explained thatthey had heard of the hasty and promiscuous flight of the wholehousehold, headed by the mistress, and also that the "sweet young lady"was left all alone because she refused to leave old Bridget; and thatthey had therefore ventured to come up to the great house to offer theirpoor services, to wait upon her and to do for her all that lay in theirpower, and this not for her only, but for the two sick persons alreadyin the house.

  "For, as I do say to my wife there," said old Andrew, though he spoke ina strange rustic fashion that would scarce be intelligible to our modernears, "a body can but die once; and for aught I see, one might as easydie of the Black Death as of the rheumatics that sets one's bones afire,and cripples one as bad as being in one's coffin at once. So I bea-going to look to poor Willum, as they say is lying groaning still uponthe kitchen floor, none having dared to go anigh him since he fell downin a fit. And if I be took tending on him, I know that you will takecare of my old woman, and see that she does not want for bread so longas she lives."

  Joan put out her soft, strong hand and laid it upon the hard, wrinkledfist of the old servant. There was a suspicious sparkle in her dark eyes.

  "I will not disappoint that expectation, good Andrew," she said. "Go ifyou will, whilst we think what may best be done for Bridget. Later on Iwill come myself to look at William. I have no fear of the distemper;and of one thing I am very sure -- that it is never kept away by beingfled from and avoided. I have known travellers who have seen it, andhave been with the sick, and have never caught the contagion, whilstmany fled from it in terror only to be overtaken and struck down as theyso ran. We are in God's hands -- forsaken of all but Him. Let us trustin His mercy, do our duty calmly and firmly, and leave the rest to Him."

  Later in the day, upheld by this same lofty sense of calmness and trust,Joan, after doing all in her power to make comfortable the old nurse,who was terribly distressed at hearing how her dear young lady had beendeserted, left her to the charge of Betty, and went down again throughthe dark and silent house to the great kitchen, where William was stillto be found, reclining now upon a settle beside the glowing hearth, andlooking not so very much the worse for the seizure of the afternoon.

  "I do tell he it were but the colic," old Andrew declared, rubbing hiscrumpled hands together in the glow of the fire. "He were in a rarefright when I found he -- groaning out that the Black Death had hold ofhe, and that he were a dead man; but I told he that he was the liveliestcorpse as I'd set eyes on this seventy years; and so after a bit heheartened up, and found as he could get upon his feet after all. It werenaught but the colic in his inside; and he needn't be afraid of nothingworse."

  Old Andrew proved right. William's sudden indisposition had been but theresult of fright and hard riding, followed by copious draughts of hotbeer taken with a view to keeping away the contagion. Very soon he wasconvinced of this himself; and when he understood how the wholehousehold had fled from him, and that the only ones who had stayed tosee that he did not die alone and untended were these old souls andtheir adored young lady, his heart was filled with loving gratitude anddevotion, and he lost no opportunity of doing her service whenever itlay in his power.

  Strange and lonely indeed was the life led by those five persons shut upin that large house, right away from all sights and sounds from theworld without. The silence and the solitude at last became well-nighintolerable, and when Bridget had recovered from her attack of illnessand was going about briskly again, Joan took the opportunity of speakingher mind to her fully and freely.

  "Why do we remain shut up within these walls, when there is so much workto be done in the world? Bridget, thou knowest that I love not my lifeas some love it. Often it seems to me as though by death alone I mayescape a frightful doom. All around us our fellow creatures are dying --too often alone and untended, like dogs in a ditch. Good Bridget, I havemoney in the house, and we have health and strength and courage; andthou art an excellent good nurse in all cases of sickness. Thou hasttaught me some of thy skill, and I long to show it on behalf of thesepoor stricken souls, so often deserted by their nearest and dearest inthe hour of their deadliest peril. If I go, wilt thou go with me? I trowthat thou art a brave woman --"

  "And if I were not thou wouldst shame me into bravery, Sweetheart,"answered the old woman fondly, as she looked into the earnest face ofher young mistress. "I too have been thinking of the poor strickensouls. I would gladly risk the peril in such a labour of love. As oldAndrew says, we can but die once. The Holy Saints will surely lookkindly upon those who die at their post, striving to do as they wouldhave done had they been here with us upon earth."

  And when William heard what his young mistress was about to do, hedeclared that he too would go with her, and assist with the offices tothe sick or the dead. He still had a vivid recollection of the momentswhen he had believed himself left alone to die of the distemper; andfellow feeling and generosity getting the better of his firstunreasoning terror, he was as eager as Joan herself to enter upon thislabour of love. Bridget, who was a great botanist, in the practicalfashion of many old persons in those days, knew more about theproperties of herbs than anybody in the country round, and she made agreat selection from her stores, and brewed many pungent concoctionswhich she gave to her young mistress and William to drink, to ward offany danger from infection. She also gave them, to hang about theirnecks, bags containing aromatic herbs, whose strong and penetratingodour dominated all others, and was likely enough to do good inpurifying the atmosphere about the wearer.

  There was no foolish superstition in Bridget's belief in her simples.She did not regard them as charms; but she had studied their propertiesand had learned their value, and knew them to possess valuableproperties for keeping the blood pure, and so rendering much smaller anychance of imbibing the poison.

  At dusk that same evening, William, who had been out all day, returned,and requested speech of his young mistress. He was ushered into theparlour where she sat, with her old nurse for her companion; andstanding just within the threshold he told his tale.

  "I went across to the town today. I thought I would see if there was anylodging to be had where you, fair Mistress, might conveniently abidewhilst working in that place. Your worshipful uncle's house I found shutup and empty, not a soul within the doors -- all fled, as most of thebetter sort of the people are fled, and every window and door fastenedup. Half the houses, too, are marked with black or red crosses, to showthat those within are afflicted with the distemper. There are watchmenin the streets, striving to keep within their doors all such as have theBlack Death upon them; but these be too few for the task, and themaddened wretches are continual
ly breaking out, and running about thestreets crying and shouting, till they drop down in a fit, and liethere, none caring for them. By day there be dead and dying in everystreet; but at night a cart comes and carries the corpses off to thegreat grave outside the town."

  "And is there no person to care for the sick in all the town?" askedJoan, with dilating eyes.

  "There were many monks at first; but the distemper seized upon themworse than upon the townfolks, and now there is scarce one left. Soonafter the distemper broke out, Master John de Brocas threw open hishouse to receive all stricken persons who would come thither to betended, and it has been full to overflowing night and day ever since. Ipassed by the house as I came out, and around the door there were scoresof wretched creatures, all stricken with the distemper, praying to betaken in. And I saw Master John come out to them and welcome them in,lifting a little child from the arms of an almost dying woman, andleading her in by the hand. When I saw that, I longed to go in myselfand offer myself to help in the work; but I thought my first duty was toyou, sweet Mistress, and I knew if once I had told my tale you would nothold me back."

  "Nay; and I will go thither myself, and Bridget with me," answered Joan,with kindling eyes. "We will start with the first light of the new-bornday. They will want the help of women as well as of men within those walls.

  "Good Bridget, look well to thy store of herbs, and take ample provisionof all such as will allay fever and destroy the poison that works in theblood. For methinks there will be great work to be done by thee and meere another sun has set; and every aid that nature can give us we willthankfully make use of."

  "Your palfrey is yet in the stable, fair Mistress," said William, "andthere be likewise the strong sorrel from the farm, whereupon Bridget canride pillion behind me. Shall I have them ready at break of daytomorrow? We shall then gain the town before the day's work has well begun."

  "Do so," answered Joan, with decision. "I would fain have started bynight; but it will be wiser to tarry for the light of day. Good William,I thank thee for thy true and faithful service. We are going forth todanger and perchance to death; but we go in a good cause, and we have noneed to fear."

  And when William had retired, she turned to Bridget with shining eyes,and said:

  "Ah, did I not always say that John was the truest knight of them all?The others have won their spurs; they have won the applause of men. Theyhave all their lives looked down on John as one unable to wield a sword,one well-nigh unworthy of the ancient name he bears. But which of yongay knights would have done what he is doing now? Who of all of themwould stand forth fearless and brave in the teeth of this far deadlierperil than men ever face upon the battlefield? I trow not one of themwould have so stood before a peril like this. They have left that forthe true Knight of the Cross!"

  At dawn next day Joan said adieu to her old home, and set her facesteadily forward towards Guildford. The chill freshness of the Novemberair was pleasant after the long period of oppressive warmth andcloseness which had gone before, and now that the leaves had reallyfallen from the trees, there was less of the heavy humidity in the airthat seemed to hold the germs of distemper and transmit them alike toman and beast.

  The sun was not quite up as they started; but as they entered the silentstreets of Guildford it was shining with a golden glory in strangecontrast to the scenes upon which it would shortly have to look. Earlymorning was certainly the best time for Joan to enter the town, for thecart had been its round, the dead had been removed from the streets, andthe houses were quieter than they often were later in the day. Once in away a wild shriek or a burst of demoniacal laughter broke from somewindow; and once a girl, with hair flying wildly down her back, flew outof one of the houses sobbing and shrieking in a frenzy of terror, andwas lost to sight down a side alley before Joan could reach her side.

  Pursuing their way through the streets, they turned down the familiarroad leading to John's house, and dismounting at the gate, Joan gave upher palfrey to William to seek stabling for it behind, and walked upwith Bridget to the open door of the house.

  That door was kept wide open night and day, and none who came were everturned away. Joan entered the hall, to find great fires burning there,and round these fires were crowded shivering and moaning beings, some ofthe latest victims of the distemper, who had been brought within thehospitable shelter of that house of mercy, but who had not yet beenprovided with beds; for the numbers coming in day by day were evengreater than the vacancies made by deaths constantly occurring in thewards (as they would now be called). Helpers were few, and of these oneor another would be stricken down, and carried away to burial after afew hours' illness.

  Of the wretched beings grouped about the fires several were littlechildren, and Joan's heart went out in compassion to the sufferingmorsels of humanity. Taking a little moaning infant upon her knee, andletting two more pillow their weary beads against her dress, she signedto Bridget to remove her riding cloak, which she gently wrapped aboutthe scantily-clothed form of a woman extended along the ground at herfeet, to whom the children apparently belonged. The woman was dyingfast, as her glazing eyes plainly showed.

  Probably her case was altogether hopeless; but Joan was not yet seasonedto such scenes, and it seemed too terrible to sit by idle whilst afellow creature actually died not two yards away. Surely somewherewithin that house aid could be found. The girl rose gently from herseat, and still clasping the stricken infant in her arms, she movedtowards one of the closed doors of the lower rooms.

  Opening this softly, she looked in, and saw a row of narrow pallet bedsdown each side of the room, and every bed was tenanted. Sounds ofmoaning, the babble of delirious talk, and thickly-uttered cries forhelp or mercy now reached her ears, and the terrible breath of theplague for the first time smote upon her senses in all its fullmalignity. She recoiled for an instant, and clutched at the bag aroundher neck, which she was glad enough to press to her face.

  A great fire was burning in the hearth, and all that could be done tolessen the evil had been accomplished. There was one attendant in thisroom, which was set apart for men, and he was just now bending over adelirious youth, striving to restrain his wild ravings and to induce himto remain in his bed. This attendant had his back to Joan, but she sawby his actions and his calm self possession that he was no novice to histask; and she walked softly through the pestilential place, feeling thatshe should not appeal to him for help in vain.

  As the sound of the light, firm tread sounded upon the bare boards ofthe floor, the attendant suddenly lifted himself and turned round. Joanuttered a quick exclamation of surprise, which was echoed by the personin question.

  "Raymond!" she exclaimed breathlessly.

  "Joan! Thou here, and at such a time as this!"

  And then they both stood motionless for a few long moments, feeling thatdespite the terrible scenes around and about them, the very gates ofParadise had opened before them, turning everything around them to gold.