The Plague Tales

by Ann Benson

  Alejandro said, rather rudely, “Then all of those ridiculous charms and incantations were nothing but cheap tricks, when in truth you have no better skills than I!”

  She flashed him an angry look but held her temper, then gave him a knowing grin and stroked her chin. “I recall quite clearly, my young friend, that you were as much in awe of the rituals as was the overly pious lady who accompanies you. Do you deny that for at least a while, you had faith in the cure?”

  He could not deny it. He recalled the intense fascination he had felt while observing the crone’s performance. She was right. For at least a short while he had believed that the lady would live.

  “And that,” she said with confidence, almost smug in her tone, “is the sole source of my healing powers. People are prepared to believe what they want to be true. You are no different from any other in that regard.”

  But I want to be different, he thought miserably. I need to believe that because of my training and dedication I can ease the suffering of the afflicted. There is nothing more to my life than that.

  She saw his shamed look, and understood what was behind it. “Do not be too hard on yourself, Physician, for you have not had enough lessons from the best teacher, which is nothing more than the daily practice of your art. Experience will teach you more than any patron or mentor. And while there is much experimentation yet to be done, I believe a cure is at hand. Each time I treat a patient, I have come closer and closer to success. I change the proportions of the powder and liquid, for therein lies the key.”

  She busied herself with putting away her tools and medicines as she spoke, but left two containers out of her satchel. “Now rise up from your self-pity, young man, and pay attention, for I shall not repeat myself.

  “A long time ago I noticed that the animals who drink from the warm spring by which I make my home seem to resist the ravages of all contagions, whereas others of their species fall prey and die rapidly.”

  She picked up a large jar of the cloudy yellow water and placed it on a table near him. “I observed that it had a rather noxious odor, which is fainter but similar to that given off by the strange yellow rocks that are brought up with the ore from the copper mines.”

  “The ones that remind me of eggs gone bad.”

  “Yes, exactly! You are a quick study when you are not mired in sadness! I fancied that the yellow water contained small bits of the yellow rock finely powdered; through what force, I know not, but what matter? The animals who drink from that spring must have large amounts of the pungent yellow rock absorbed in all of their bodily humors by now.”

  “What is this yellow powder called?”

  “It is called sulphur. When it is burned, the flame sparkles and turns blue. Witches have long used it to dazzle the ignorant into believing in their special powers.”

  “As you did today, with the reed.”

  “Guilty I am of that sinful chicanery,” she said with a grin, “but all for good cause.” Then she placed the small brown sack next to the jar of water. “You must add this gray powder, for it strengthens as a sword strengthens a knight!”

  She took one of his hands in hers and poured a tiny mound of the grainy gray stuff into the palm. Alejandro rubbed it between his fingers and felt its granular texture. He looked questioningly at the old woman.

  She whispered with great reverence, “It is the dust of the dead, and it imparts their powers to the ill one.”

  The dust of the dead? Surely this is forbidden.…

  She continued with her instructions. “Mix a knuckle of the powder into a half a cupped hand of the water, and give the patient a good swallow at sunrise, highest noon, and again at sunset. Should the patient be awake, and yourself as well, one more swallow at midnight will not do harm. But conserve your supply, and use it wisely, for these things are found only by my abode; God alone knows when you may need them again.”

  “God alone,” Alejandro repeated, and prayed that such need would never come to pass.

  They placed the lady’s body along the side of the road where the teamster could not fail to see it. The five people who had been present at her death watched as the cart came to a stop and the driver dismounted. The teamster and another man picked up the body, still warm and pliable, and callously heaved it to the top of the pile of those who had succumbed that day.

  The cart began to sag in the middle from the weight of its gruesome load. One man looked down the road at several additional bodies similarly awaiting their last earthly journey, and said to the other, “That’s all now, the rest’ll still be dead when we come back later.”

  “Aye,” his helper agreed, “let’s be off. The stink is addling my brain, and I’ll soon be a simpleton.”

  “Soon, you say?” joked the other. “I see no sign of brilliance coming from you now. Although there is always hope of a miracle. I’ll put you in my prayers.”

  They climbed back into the front seat and lightly slapped the reins along the horses’ backs. Neighing in protest, the horses began their grim march to the burial ground, carrying Kate’s mother as their last passenger.

  They followed the same path as Adele and Alejandro had earlier, and soon came to the open field, near where Adele and Alejandro had visited Mother Sarah; the oaks still stood guard, but now their shadows were long and straight. As the horses dragged the creaking cart across the plain, its wheels bogged in the fresh-dug ground, and the lifeless passengers were jostled quite roughly about, but the teamsters paid no mind, knowing that none was likely to complain. In the course of this irreverent bouncing, the bedclothes covering the lady’s body were loosened, and as she had not yet stiffened, her arm fell free of the wrapping. In her hand was the handkerchief that had carried her child’s last kiss to her lips.

  A few meters farther the cart groaned to a stop next to a shallow pit, hastily dug that afternoon in the peaty soil. The teamsters, already aching from the labor of digging the hole, lowered themselves slowly down from the high forward seat, and set to the hideous task of laying the bodies side by side in the open grave. When the pit was full, a priest would be summoned, if one could be found, and the sins of the dead would be remitted en masse. Then the peat would be thrown back into what was left of the pit, and the ground smoothed as much as possible.

  “Let’s hope the dogs don’t dig up this bunch too,” said one of the men, and they returned to the cart, ready to make their way back to London’s outskirts, dreading their next load of passengers.

  Mother Sarah gathered her strange assortment of cures and talismans and stowed them away in her ragged satchel. She threw a red shawl around her shoulders and took up her walking stick and headed toward the door. But before leaving, she turned back to Alejandro, and admonished him one last time, “Physician, mind you to be prepared. You must always expect the unexpected.”

  The stableman rushed out to tend to their horses when they returned to Adele’s estate that night, and the drenched trio ran quickly up the stone steps into the manor house. The roaring fires laid earlier by the overseer had warmed the house and taken the wet chill off the air inside; still, Alejandro trembled as he removed his dripping cloak. He could barely control his shivering, and hurried to the fire to warm himself. Kate followed closely, and held her small hands out to the blaze to soak up the welcome heat, while small puddles of water formed around the hem of her thin frock.

  Suddenly, she sneezed, three times in rapid succession.

  “Child?” Alejandro said with alarm. “What ails you?”

  She sniffled and said, “I am cold, and weary from the ride, and my stomach begs for food.”

  Relieved by her ready explanation, Alejandro relaxed. “Well, I am glad that you have only three complaints. By great good fortune all three are curable.” He took her hand and together they sought out Adele. They found her in the kitchen giving instructions to the housekeeper.

  “It seems our small companion is cold, hungry, and tired, and I have brazenly promised her a cure for all three afflictions. C
an a dry nightdress be found, and some supper?”

  Adele nodded. “See to the child,” she said to the housekeeper. “We will speak again later.”

  The housekeeper led Kate away, saying, “First we’ll get you dry and warm, then we’ll come back for some supper.”

  Kate rejoined them in a fresh nightdress, one Adele had worn as a little girl. After a supper of soup and crusty warm bread, Adele led Kate off to her old room and tucked her safely into the clean bed, singing tenderly to the little girl until she was asleep. When she returned to the table, it was cleared and deserted.

  She found Alejandro in the salon, where a flickering fire cast shadows on the walls as it danced in the huge hearth.

  “Shall we have some wine,” she said, “to further warm our bellies?”

  “I shall never feel warm again, nor dry, I fear,” he said.

  “The curse of our fair isle, I think,” she said, pouring the wine. “I have never traveled to your land, but I hear it is warm there, even in winter.”

  As she poured the clear dark liquid, a stray beam of firelight sparkled on the ruby cross resting on her bosom. It was nearly the same color as the wine, and the flash of red caught Alejandro’s eye; he took pleasure in the comparison.

  As they sat before the fire, Alejandro carefully recorded the rituals Mother Sarah had performed on Kate’s mother, with Adele’s help in recalling the things she had said and done. When the words were all on paper, he made a sketch of the woman herself. He wrote, Mother Sarah, on the page, and showed it to Adele.

  “It’s a fair likeness,” she said. “It catches her spirit, I think.”

  “Hers is a spirit that will never be completely caught, I fear, but I shall not soon forget it.” He closed the book and set it aside.

  Slowly, as the fire warmed his skin and the wine his belly, Alejandro felt the distress of the day gradually leaving his weary body, and he sank back in the cushions to watch Adele brush her remarkable tresses before the fire. He allowed himself a few moments of joyful speculation on what his life could be like if she were his. He watched as she arranged her hair about her shoulders, and realized that she was doing her best to make herself attractive to him. She was having great success in her endeavor, for the physician’s heart beat as if it would burst; they would be lovers again tonight, he was sure of it. Dear God, he prayed, let this journey never end.

  Adele rose from her seat before the fire and came toward him. She settled herself on the soft rug in front of him and placed her head on his knees. The thick red hair fell in great waves over his lap, and he ran his eager hands through it again and again; it felt cool and soft and incomparably sensual, and he could not believe his joy.

  She lifted her head off his knees, and he opened his mouth to protest its withdrawal, but before he could speak, she pressed one of her fingers over his lips to silence him. “Do not speak,” she said, “for I would busy your lips with other things.” Then she raised herself up and insinuated herself between his legs. She drew him close and pressed her soft body against his trembling one, then gently wrapped her arms around his back and held him tightly against her. They kissed, deeply, with a passion that knows no time. It might have been just one minute, or even ten, that their lips were together. He could not have said if his very life hung on the answer.

  And then Adele placed her hands lightly on his shoulders, drawing them down along the front of his chest. He stiffened as her fingers neared the neck of his shirt, beneath which lay the telltale scar, and he was filled with the icy fear of discovery.

  Speak! he admonished himself, before the opportunity is no longer yours!

  Adele, forgive me for the lie I am about to tell you. It is not my intent to deceive you, only to survive to know your love, he thought silently. He reached his own hands up and gently caught her wrists, then brought all four of their hands together in a loving clasp. She looked at him quizzically, wondering why he had stopped her gentle exploration.

  “Adele,” he said carefully, “I am disfigured by a scar, and I would not have its ugliness frighten you.”

  She drew back a bit and said with alarm, “What scar is this you speak of?”

  He unfastened one button at the neck of his shirt, and pulled the neckline slightly open. There Adele could see only a small portion of circular wound, now pink and well healed. She gasped. “Oh, my dear, how did this happen?”

  He was weary of lying, but he knew there was no other choice; the truth would bring all his joy and hope to an end. “There was a skirmish on my journey from Spain to Avignon. I am ashamed of the outcome, and I would not speak further of it. I beg you to understand my modesty. I have kept this from you because I myself find the scar revolting, and I believed that you would find it so as well. And I did not wish to frighten you.” He cast his eyes downward, and said, “I am humiliated before you. Please forgive my deception.”

  To his immeasurable relief she said, “It was not your choice to be so scarred. We will not speak of it again, for it has no import to me.”

  In her bed they spoke softly of the sweet things that new lovers cherish, each one blushing quite invisibly in the dark room, and finding small sweet surprises of pleasure in the other. Their simple union cemented no kingdoms together, only two people who dearly wished to be so joined.

  So accustomed was he to his dreams of Carlos Alderón that to sleep without them was an anomaly to him, and when Alejandro felt a small warm hand touch his cheek just before dawn, he thought it was just part of another dream. But the touch was insistent, and eventually he opened his eyes. He saw Kate standing at the bedside.

  “My throat is sore,” she moaned, and touched her neck lightly. He looked at her more closely and saw to his horror the beginnings of a bruise beneath her chin.

  Panicking, he began to throw off the bedclothes, then remembered that he was naked except for a light shirt. He said to the child, “Kate, you must do exactly as I tell you now. Return to your bed and I will attend to you as soon as I am decently covered. Do not touch anything as you make your way back to Adele’s room, or speak with any of the servants. Breathe shallowly and try not to cough if the urge should come upon you.”

  She nodded, a look of terror in her eyes, and left the dim room, padding lightly away on her small feet. He glanced over at Adele’s sleeping form and decided not to disturb her rest until he had investigated Kate’s complaint further. After drawing up his breeches he searched out the saddlebag containing the gifts Mother Sarah had given him, and went to the pantry for a cup and a spoon.

  When he entered Adele’s former bedroom, he was shocked to see how tiny Kate looked in the huge bed. The canopy curtains were wide open, so he closed them at the far side and the foot of the bed, leaving open only the one that faced toward the door of the bedroom.

  “Now, let me examine that neck of yours, my fine lady,” he said. “I shall untie the top of your nightdress, but do not fear for your modesty. I am presently only interested in your neck.”

  He gently touched the darkened area under her chin. “Does it hurt when I touch you there?”

  She winced, and he pulled his hand away. “It hurts there, and in my arm as well.”

  He lifted her arm up with one hand and with the other felt the area under her arm. He felt his heart sink as his fingers found the beginnings of a lump.

  A curse upon all that walks, flies, swims, or slithers, he thought angrily. A curse upon all that is holy! He heard the soft rustling of a gown behind him, and looked around to see Adele silhouetted in the doorway.

  “Rest here, child, and I shall return shortly.” He closed the remaining canopy curtain, and left the room, taking Adele by the elbow and leading her in the same direction.

  Her eyes full of fear, she said to him, “I see by your look that the news is not good.”

  He confirmed her suspicion with a nod, and she buried her face in his shoulder and wept. As he comforted her, she looked up at him through her tears and said, “I cannot bear to see her die.”
>
  “Nor can I, my love, but for once I am not helpless. At least we have some means to try to save her.”

  “The medicine!” she cried. “Where is it? I shall fetch it!”

  “It is already in the room, on the bed table.”

  “Then let us waste not one minute in treating her.”

  Eighteen

  Janie and Bruce walked slowly through the lobby of her London hotel, savoring their last few private minutes together. “Mission accomplished,” he said. Janie faced him and grinned. “Not prettily accomplished, but accomplished nonetheless. The trip had some high points, though. Toward the end there I was beginning to forget why we went in the first place.”

  Bruce laughed. “Me too. It was those soil samples, wasn’t it? I’ll make sure they get put in the cold storage unit,” he said.

  “And put a guard on them,” Janie said.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “I plan to oversee their security myself.” He stopped walking and took her by the hand. They stood in the middle of the lobby, with people passing all around them, and looked at each other. “I have to say I think it ended rather well,” he said.

  “I’d have to agree. I’m surprising myself by feeling sorry that it’s over.”

  “I’ll ride up with you,” he offered. “See you to your door.”

  “Actually,” she said, “I was thinking about taking the stairs. I could use the exercise.” She smiled and touched his cheek. “It would take longer. I’m not quite ready to let you go yet.”

  Still, at the notion of climbing seven flights of stairs, Bruce groaned.

  “Wore you out, did I?” Janie teased. “And here I was thinking you looked like you were in such good shape. Must’ve been a trick of the moonlight.”