“I have an announcement to make,” he went on. “Several, actually. Of course you all know that Lady Auren was recently affianced to Lord Larol. The date of their wedding has been set—look for another celebration here on the tenth day of summer!”
Following his words came another cheer, and again everyone lifted their goblets and drank. I sighed and took another sip of water.
“Also, our present good fortune is due in no small part to the ministrations of Mistress Merys, a physician of the Order of the Golden Palm. My daughter now walks because of her, and I would not be speaking to you now if it were not for her skilled care.”
I heard Master Breen say, “Hear, hear!” and after a barely perceptible pause everyone cheered and clapped. Everyone, that was, except the sour-faced Lady Yvaine. Perhaps she thought a slave unworthy of her applause.
“Because of the services she has rendered this household, I wish to give her a special Midwinter gift.” He turned toward me, extending a hand, and I had no choice but to step out from my relative refuge near the table of food and drink and into the center of the hall to stand at his side. A smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, he said, “Mistress Merys, I give you your freedom.”
A moment of silence then, until someone—I believe it was Master Breen, bless him—began to clap. Then everyone else added their cheering to his applause, some of the slaves even calling out my name and hallooing boisterously. Again I could feel a blush heat my cheeks, but somehow I managed to recover myself enough to smile at them all and raise a hand in acknowledgment.
Lord Shaine beamed down at me, and I knew he wished me to say something.
“Thank you, my lord,” I said then, directing my words to him but pitching my voice loudly enough so that everyone in the hall could hear me. “This is a most wondrous gift, and I do thank you for it. And do not fear,” I added, turning away from him slightly and addressing the watching crowd. “I will stay with you here for the rest of the winter, to see you all safely through to spring.”
Again everyone cheered and I looked away, to see Lord Shaine staring down at me with a peculiar expression on his face. Something about his mouth softened, and his lips parted, as if he were going to say something else.
What he had been about to say, I would never know. For the great double doors to the hall were flung open, and the two men-at-arms who had been unlucky enough to be assigned guard duty this night hurried in.
“My lord,” said one of them, and even across the hall I could see how pale his cheeks were beneath the leather-covered helmet he wore. “My lord, it is the plague!”
Chapter 9
The hall went deathly still. For a soul-freezing moment in time, I stood there, heart seeming to have stopped in my breast.
The Lord Shaine spoke, and it was as if light and color suddenly flowed back into the room. “What do you mean, Graf?”
“My lord, there is a man at the gates. We did not let him in.” Graf swallowed, and his gaze shifted from Lord Shaine to me. I supposed it was natural that he should look to the healer for guidance. “He has come from Lord Arnad’s estates, and he says the plague is there.”
“The true plague?” I asked, for in some regions the practice had arisen of calling any terrible disease a plague. But there was only one pestilence truly deserving of the name....
“Truly, Mistress,” he replied, and I could see the convulsive movement of the knot in his throat as he swallowed. “They are requesting our help.”
Silence again, as I looked away from him to Lord Shaine, whose jaw tightened slightly before he said, “Take us to him.” Then he turned and addressed the rest of those watching, whose expressions ranged from fear to horror to simple curiosity. “This should not mar our Midwinter celebrations. Go on, and let Mistress Merys and me attend to this problem.”
He waved at the musicians, who scrambled to fetch their instruments and resume playing. For a moment I feared no one would follow Lord Shaine’s direction, but then young Lord Larol held his hand out to Auren, and led her to form yet another set in the center of the hall. After a brief pause, more couples followed their lead, and Lord Shaine and I were free to follow the two men-at-arms outside.
It was bitterly cold, and I wished I could have run upstairs to retrieve my cloak. Still, at least the sky was clear for once, although somehow it felt even more chill than when it was covered in overcast. Lord Shaine and his guards moved quickly, however, and at least our rapid pace served to keep my blood moving, warming me somewhat.
The gates were shut. I followed the three men up a narrow set of stairs in the guard house, to a window that overlooked the rutted, muddy lane which led up to the keep. From there I could look out to see a man waiting for us as he sat astride a horse whose sides heaved and gleamed with sweat. Obviously he had ridden hard to get here.
From behind Lord Shaine’s shoulder I studied the stranger as best I could. His face looked pale in the darkness, but I could see no outward sign of the disease upon him. I gave Lord Shaine a questioning look, and he nodded briefly. Stepping up to the window, which was open to the icy night, I called out, “I am Merys, the physician you seek. Are you ill?”
He shook his head. “No, mistress. That is why I was sent. So many are ill—Lord Arnad, his lady mother—most of the slaves—” His voice broke, and he fell silent for a time, obviously struggling to regain his composure. “It came upon us four days ago—brought, we think, in a trader’s train that came from Purth. They seemed well enough when they arrived at the estate, but one of their company fell ill within a day of reaching us, and then it began to spread—”
“I understand,” I said. Then I glanced back at Lord Shaine, whose face seemed almost too still. My own mind seemed to race frantically as I tried to recall everything I knew about the plague.
The last outbreak had been almost five centuries ago, immediately following the great mage wars. At the time it was said the plague had come as a punishment from the gods, to further show their disapproval toward those who had dared to harness unearthly powers for unholy uses and then whom the gods had pleased to lay low. Beginning in the deserts of Keshiaar and moving slowly northwest, the disease had spread from town to town, farm to farm, laying waste to everything in its path. In some villages, I had read, the citizens had died to the last man. Finally the plague burned itself out, having devastated most of the eastern half of the continent, although it never made inroads into North Eredor or Sirlende.
My only experience of the disease was through what I had read, of course, for there had been no outbreaks since that time of pestilence. I knew it could be highly contagious, and that it appeared in one of three forms. The first involved swellings of the glands in the groin and neck, accompanied by fever, headache, and a sore throat. This was the most survivable form of the plague, and my texts had advised that the patient might survive if the swellings were lanced, releasing the disease from the body. The second form involved the lungs, resulting in a form of pneumonia, and was almost always fatal and highly contagious. The third variation—rarely seen—involved the poisoning of the blood. No one knew why some victims would sicken with one form over another, but if the plague infected one’s blood directly, then the victim would be dead within the day, covered in blackened hemorrhages.
Gathering my breath, I asked, “Do they have the swellings and fever, or has anyone been coughing, as if they have the ague?”
“Swellings and fever mostly,” he replied, “although Lady Margon began coughing as I left.”
In which case she would probably be dead before I even arrived. I could do nothing for her, but there were many more who might survive—if given the proper care.
“I must go, my lord,” I said quietly.
“And risk yourself?” he asked. His deep blue eyes were somber but unsurprised. Somehow he had known I would make this request.
“It is what I was trained to do,” I replied. “I would not be true to my Order if I did not offer what aid I could.”
If I h
ad expected him to offer any further argument, I would have been disappointed. He merely nodded ever so slightly, then asked, “And what do you require of us?”
Thinking furiously, I said, “As much raw alcohol as I can take with me. Bandages. And an old set of boy’s clothes.”
At that he raised an eyebrow, and I explained, “I can ride more quickly astride, and whatever I wear over there will have to be burned once I return. Better that it should be old and of little worth.”
“We’ll see to it directly,” he replied and nodded at Graf, who gave a quick bow and disappeared from the chamber, no doubt to carry out his lord’s wishes.
I turned and called back out the window, “I will be ready to ride within the hour.”
Even in the flickering light of the torches that illuminated the open area before the gates, I could see the relief in the stranger’s face. “Thank you, mistress.”
I could only hope that his relief would be justified. For myself, the beginnings of sick worry began to cramp my stomach as I realized exactly to what I had committed myself. This was what I had trained for, of course—to go into the disease-ravaged areas of the world and bring hope and succor with me. But this was no mere outbreak of tertian fever or measles or even smallpox—this was the plague, the most evil and mysterious disease the world had ever known, and I was afraid.
Fear was not something I usually experienced in my work, save the ever-present worries I had for my patients’ survival. For whatever reason, I had always been remarkably immune to the ailments that struck others with frightening regularity. Oh, I had been known to suffer a mild ague in the winter if I were careless about staying warm and dry, but I had treated patients with a bewildering variety of illnesses and had never caught a one of them. My instructors used to say I had obviously been chosen by the gods for this vocation, since my constitution made me unusually well-suited for attending those whose every breath carried contagion.
But the plague....
Its mystery and virulence had given it near-mythical proportions by this time, and the fact that it had resurfaced now after so many years worried me greatly. I feared that the luck which had carried me up until now might be sorely tested in the days ahead. But at least I could do everything in my power to make sure it did not come here.
“Some instructions,” I said, looking directly at Lord Shaine.
“I see that less than an hour of freedom has given you the courage to assume command,” he remarked, but I could tell he teased me gently. There was no anger in his words.
“This is an area in which I am suited to take command,” I replied. “After I have gone, make sure the gates stay shut. No one is to enter, and no one is to leave. It’s only through the strictest of quarantines that you can escape this disease. If I return—” He startled at that, I could tell, and I swallowed and continued, “When I return, I will stay apart from you all until several days have passed and we can be sure I have not contracted the illness. From what I can recall of my studies, the incubation period is no longer than five days.”
“So you have studied this pestilence.”
“Yes, what written accounts have survived. We have been lucky—very lucky—that it has not resurfaced ere this time. Why now, I do not know, but—” I raised my chin to look at him. His face was half in shadow, the only illumination the flaring torches. This Midwinter was a moonless one.
He did not reply directly. Instead he gave a rueful smile and said, “So it appears we will all have to suffer Lady Yvaine’s company for some time.”
“I’m afraid so, my lord. At least you all will—I shall be safely off tending to plague victims.”
That comment elicited a small chuckle, as I had hoped it would. “I keep thinking at some point you will stop surprising me. So far that day has yet to come.”
“I would hope so, my lord!” And with those words I gave him a slight curtsey, then turned and left the guard room overlooking the courtyard. I had much to do, and little time to do it in.
I did not bother to pack much—merely my kit and such personal necessities as I might require. A grubby set of boy’s clothes had been found for me, and I changed out of my velvet gown quickly, then hung it in the wardrobe. Already the evening where I had worn such finery seemed as if it had passed in another life. Auren remained in the hall with Larol’s family, trying her best to keep the guests distracted from the hideous news, but Elissa fled to our chamber to await my arrival. In fact, it was she who had begun packing for me, thus expediting my departure.
After watching, white-faced, as I carefully plaited my loose hair and pinned it around my head, she burst out, “How could you be going there, mistress? After what he did—what he said—and to go to the plague!”
None of this was very coherent, but I understood her well enough. It was for reasons such as this that we had been admonished over and over again during our training with the Order to maintain as much detachment as possible. Personal connections could only cloud the relationship between a physician and his or her patient.
“Would you have everyone there die, Elissa?” I asked gently, for I knew she was very young and probably understood little of the sort of responsibility I had taken on myself when swearing my life to the Order. “I have no very high opinion of Lord Arnad myself, but surely his slaves and other members of his household are blameless.” Save Dorus, I thought, with an inward wince. A very uncharitable part of me fervently hoped he would be dead by the time I arrived.
“I suppose not.”
I smiled at her then, and clasped my satchel shut. The close-fitting breeches and loose doublet I wore felt odd, but I knew they were the most practical thing for me to wear. They also smelled faintly of perspiration, but I couldn’t mind that now. Besides, I knew I would face far worse stinks than these by the time I was done.
I gathered up my cloak and wrapped it about myself so that the guests might not see my inappropriate attire, and Elissa followed me as I made my way back down to the hall.
Lord Shaine had obviously been waiting for me; he stood near the steps and made a movement toward me when I appeared.
“All prepared?”
“As much as I can be,” I replied.
“There’s a horse waiting for you in the courtyard. I did not know how experienced a rider you were, so I took care to see that he is strong but docile.”
His solicitude moved me greatly, and I smiled. “Thank you, my lord. I have ridden a great deal, actually, but it relieves me to know that I won’t have to be worried about my mount.”
“And I suppose there is no hope of dissuading you.”
We might have been alone in the hall. He looked only at me, as if the chamber weren't filled with guests possessed by varying degrees of curiosity and fear. I could feel the fear myself, but I had to push it far back in my mind. It would be all too easy to lose my resolve, to try to hide myself here with everyone else and let the pestilence take everyone it wished, as long as it did not take those for whom I cared.
“None, my lord,” I said finally. At least my tone had a resolve I currently did not feel.
“Then the gods go with you,” he replied. The barest pause, and then he turned away.
I could only stand there, watching wordlessly as he went to rejoin the crowd. Had he meant to say something else, something of a more personal nature? I couldn’t say. That hesitation I noted might have meant nothing at all, save an inability to say something more profound than the simple words he had given me.
There was nothing for it. I could not waste time with tormenting myself over his every word…or even his omissions. I had made up my mind, and it was time to go. I turned, and did not look to see who watched my departure.
Graf waited in the courtyard with the horse that had been readied for me and held him steady while I mounted, not that it was truly necessary, as the gelding was more than placid and barely flicked an ear at me as I took an unaccustomed seat astride. But the man-at-arms held the bridle as he guided me out through the
courtyard, past the now-open gates, and into the freezing darkness where Lord Arnad’s man awaited me.
I discovered soon enough that his name was Brit. He had been a slave, but Lord Arnad had apparently offered him his freedom and five hundred golden ranads if he would ride to Lord Shaine’s estate and beg my assistance.
“I can only hope that I might live to spend it, mistress,” he said, as we jogged along in the freezing night. Normally we would not have started until dawn, but even moments were precious now. We could not wait.
“You will,” I replied. “For when we reach Lord Arnad’s estate, you will stay far away from everyone. If you’ve managed to avoid the infection this long, then we must do everything we can to keep you away from it."
“No arguments here, mistress!”
At that I did manage a laugh, but then we fell into an uneasy silence, both of us consumed with our own thoughts.
I should have been reviewing everything I had ever heard or read about the plague. I should have been planning contingencies and deciding on a course of action for the time when I arrived at Lord Arnad’s estate. At the very least I should have been paying attention to the road, which was the barest muddy, rutted track between snow banks. But I did none of these things. All I could think of was the steady regard in those calm blue eyes as Lord Shaine bade me farewell. Did he care after all? Had he wanted to let me know something of his feelings, lest I disappear into the depths of the plague and become lost to him forever, but had somehow found his tongue tied?
I did not know. The only thing I knew for certain, as we plodded on through the freezing dark toward a sort of death I had never imagined, was that never before had I so much wanted to live.
At first, nothing seemed amiss at Lord Arnad’s estate. Instead of an ancient keep such as the one which brooded at the heart of Lord Shaine’s lands, Arnad’s home was of newer construction, probably no more than a century old, with half-timbered walls and elegant mullioned windows. It had not been built to withstand attack, but instead as a comfortable home for the landed nobility who had lived there for generations. Very probably it had been built on the site of a much older structure.
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