The Scourge (Kindle Serial) (20 page)

Tristan points to one of the
weapons, which is made from a short metal cylinder as wide around as a horse’s
hoof. The cylinder, which is mounted on a wooden staff, is fully enclosed, but ten
holes the size of coins pierce the front. “Does this do what it appears to do?”

Sir Thomas chuckles and rubs his
hands together. “Yes! Ten shots in one blast! I call it ‘God’s Love.’” He cackles,
looking like a man half his age, and gestures that Tristan should feel the
weapon.

Tristan removes it from the wall
and cradles it to his chest. “What a gorgeous creature you are,” he says,
stroking the weapon. “I propose a trade. In return for this beautiful cannon, I
will give you Sir Morgan.”

“Tristan, don’t be a fool.” Morgan
scowls.

“You’re right, that’s silly,” Tristan
says. “Sir Morgan and two of our horses.”

We have to wait for more than two
hours before the food is ready, but the meal does not disappoint. It is the
most elaborate feast I have had since the plague took hold. The servants bring
out course after course. Suckling pig, venison in verjuice sauce, smoked pike,
salted cod, saffron duck, crayfish, eels, plums, grapes, and a unique new style
of blankmanger — chicken pounded into a custard, mixed with rice and anise, and
sprinkled with sugar. I am shocked at extravagance of the meal, and I have no
doubt now that Thomas wants something from us.

“This is the finest meal I’ve had
in months, Sir Thomas,” Morgan says. “I hope that we aren’t taxing your food
stores.”

“We do not typically eat like this
these days,” Thomas admits. “But today we honor our three heroes.”

There are fourteen of us at the
table. Robert Bailey, Ralf the burgher, Zhuri, Matilda, Cecilia, and Thomas’s
son Harold are there. The pretty blonde girl from the tree, Lilly, is also
there, as are two more of Sir Thomas’s nieces and one more nephew. Morgan and
Matilda sit side by side, whispering to each other, probably trading Bible verses.
Tristan sits across from Lilly and, from the subtle glances they exchange, I
imagine something is happening beneath the table.

None of Sir Thomas’s relatives look
at him when he speaks, and a silence settles upon us as everyone dines. When I
can’t take the clinks of spoons and knives upon plates any longer, I clear my
throat and address the lord. “How large is your demesne, Sir Thomas?”

“Nine hides,” he says. “Forty-five
virgates.”

I work the numbers in my head. I
have never been good with these figures. I come up with roughly nine hundred
acres, depending on how they divide their hides here in Essex. It is a small
estate, especially for the size of this manor house, but farming that much land
requires a lot of help. And with this plague, I can’t imagine where he gets
that help.

Sir Thomas guesses my thoughts. “We’ve
abandoned some of the outer furlongs at the base of the ridge. And another few
furlongs will go to spoil this harvest. But we have plenty of men to reap.
There has been little plague here in Danbury.”

Tristan looks up from his blonde. “Why
is that?”

Sir Thomas looks at his son, Harold,
as he speaks. “Because Danbury is safe. Because we are on a steep hill and the
plaguers do not like to climb hills. Because there are thick forests and fens
surrounding our village. Because we have worked hard to fortify the places
where there are no hills or forests or fens. And” — he raises his voice — “because
no one leaves the village if they don’t have to.”

Cecilia blasts a great snort of air
from her nostrils and speaks. Her voice is venomous. “There
is
plague in
Danbury. More and more of it. The blighted ones come in packs from the north.
Packs like the one we ran from today. Some of them find their way to Danbury.
Ten of our people were killed in the last two weeks. My
mother
. My
sister
.”
She trembles, points a finger at Thomas. “His
wife
! All of them dead. And
still he makes fiery speeches about staying safe and about how he will protect
us, and how Danbury is secure. It is not secure! We will be overrun soon, and
we will die! All of us! Did you see it today? Did you see it? They will sweep
into Danbury and surround us like they surrounded that — ”

“
Silence
!” Sir Thomas stands
and points to Cecilia. “You think fleeing is the answer? You think packing up
in the black of morning and riding off to Dartford will keep you safe? Did it
keep you safe today?”

Silence falls again.

Tristan shakes his head. He souses
a piece of bread in the blankmanger and speaks before he is done chewing it.
“Dartford wouldn’t be my first choice.”

The family
members excuse themselves as soon as the meal is finished, and the remaining
guests do the same not long afterward. Tristan, Morgan, and I are left alone
with Sir Thomas, who sips at his wine and stares into the distance. “They are
safe here,” he says. “I’ve done so much to make Danbury secure, but still they
fear that plague.”

 “Your steward, Robert,” I say, “he
mentioned a fort nearby. Said you had some guns there.”

“Yes. An old keep, out toward
Maldon. The earl wanted to fortify it when the plague started. But things…everything
happened too quickly.”

“Is it still defensible? Could you
move your family and some of the villagers there?”

Sir Thomas leans back in his seat
and breathes out deeply. “Yes. I could move my family there. Repair the
fortifications and keep them safe behind its walls. We would have a lovely
prison. The demons could take our lands, and we could be their songbirds,
living in a stone cage until we cease to chirp.” He shakes his head. “Danbury
is our home. And I won’t be driven from it. I only want my people to have faith
in me. I need something to give them hope.”

He drains his cup and sets it on
the table, then nudges the base of it absently with one finger. “Perhaps I
could bring knights here. Warriors whose very presence signifies safety and
protection.”

I sit up. Thomas is finally
revealing his intent..

 “The knights wouldn’t have to
work,” he says. “They could live comfortably here, have rooms in the manor. Eat
all the food they want. We have plenty of women in Danbury. All I would ask of
them is that they make their presence known to the villagers. And that they
help me keep the village free from plague.”

“These knights,” Tristan says.
“They would live on your manor like prize cocks, chained to Danbury until they
ceased to chirp?”

“Tristan.” I give him a look.

“No, Edward. Sir Thomas has a fully
defensible fortress nearby, but he ignores it because he doesn’t want to leave
his magnolias behind. The world has changed, Thomas. We have seen thousands
packed into priory courtyards and castle baileys. And this keep of yours sits
empty.”

Sir Thomas leans forward and drives
his forefinger into the table. “Do you see plague here, Tristan? Have you seen
a single blighter in Danbury since you arrived? This village is an oasis. It is
the Garden of Eden. And I will not let evil claim it.”

“The Garden of Eden is under siege,
Thomas.” Tristan leans back and crosses his arms. “And when someone besieges
you, you fall back to your fortress.”

“But why fall back when there is no
enemy in sight?” Sir Thomas’s voice rises. “Why leave the Garden of Eden when
no one has thrown you out? Danbury is my fortress. And I need help defending
it. Will you or will you not help me?”

“No, I bloody won’t help you,”
Tristan says, his voice rising too. “You’re mad if you think plague won’t come
to Danbury. Those things out there will get hungrier. And they will find your
oasis. And they won’t just throw you out of Eden. They will pluck out your
hearts and gnaw on them like apples.”

“And you, Edward,” Thomas says. “Do
you think Danbury will fall?”

I sigh. Tristan may not have been
tactful, but he has spoken my thoughts. “Yes,” I say. “You have been kind to
us, Sir Thomas, and I am thankful for it. But I won’t lie. The plaguers will
come. And when they do, you had best be in that fortress.”

Sir Thomas rubs his finger in a
drop of wine that has spattered upon the table. He doesn’t speak for a long
time. And when he finally does, his voice is barely louder than a whisper. “If
none of you will help, then perhaps it is best if you left at first — ”

“I will help you,” Morgan says.

I stare at him. Tristan scoffs.
“Morgan, you gave your oath to Sir Edward. Are you going to break that oath?”

“No,” Morgan says. “But I am going
to help Sir Thomas. Eden is worth fighting for.”

“One man won’t make a difference
here,” I say. “Not even a hundred men can defend this village.”

“You are right,” Morgan says. “But
perhaps one woman can.”

He places something on the table
with a clack. Tristan laughs. I take a deep breath.

“The Virgin Mary can defend this
village,” Morgan says.

The church bells
toll endlessly and the villagers trickle by twos and threes onto the village
green. Joseph and Robert Bailey set lanterns upon posts in the grass and these
lights strike glints from the villagers’ wide eyes. Women hold their children
close. Men carry cudgels or knives and send glances into the darkness beyond
Danbury. They don’t know why they are here, and they fear the worst.

Sir Thomas stands on a stump and
smiles as the villagers gather. He couldn’t wait until morning. I suppose he
doesn’t want to risk another exodus in the black of night. The church bells
cease their tolling. Sir Thomas waits for the echoes to fade before addressing his
people.

“Starting this evening, Danbury is
under God’s protection.” He holds up one of the phials of Mary’s blood. “The
Blessed Virgin will keep us from the plague.”

He waits for the murmurs to
subside, then tells them about the phials. The villagers soak it all in. Some
cross themselves as he speaks. Others weep. Some fall to their knees and raise
clasped hands toward the heavens.

“Danbury is safe!” Thomas shouts.
“We are safe!”

I listen to the peasants cheer.
Watch them hug one another. Watch the men raise their fists in the air. Some
don’t seem convinced, but they are in the minority.

Tristan stands beside me with the
blonde, Lilly, on his arm. “You traded a fully barded warhorse for those
phials, Morgan. And now you’re going to just give them away?”

“We got a lot more than Mary’s blood,
Tristan.”

“Oh yes. You also got some poor
dead man’s tiny tarse. I still don’t know why you would just give those phials
away. You would have sold your own mother for those things.”

“Our Lord Jesus Christ preached
that we should love our neighbor as we love ourselves,” Morgan says. “But you
wouldn’t understand that. You have no respect for the words of Christ.”

“Morgan, you have it wrong,”
Tristan says. “I have tremendous respect for Christ. I think religion is a
wonderful idea. I wish I could have as much faith in Christ as you do, as much
faith in anything as you do. But I have talked to people of very deep faith and
I have talked to lunatics. And sometimes I have trouble telling them apart.”

“Then I pity you, Tristan.”

I know why Morgan gave away the
phials. He has taken the words of Christ too literally; he has fallen in love
with his neighbor. He told me of his feelings for Matilda after Sir Thomas left
the great hall to summon the villagers.

“When did you know you were in love
with Elizabeth?” Morgan had asked.

“The moment I looked upon her,” I
replied.

My marriage to Elizabeth had been
an arranged one. She brought wealth, and estates in Bodiam and Hollington. I
brought my own wealth and estates to the marriage, and my connections to King
Richard and the earl of Arundel. We were two threads in a tapestry of family
obligation. I expected a life of courtesy and mutual dedication to our roles, but
my expectations unraveled the moment I saw her. She smiled her impish smile and
shrugged, then disarmed me for life with her first words: “You’ll do.”

Morgan stands beside Matilda and gazes
at her. He has found his Elizabeth.

Joseph, Sir Thomas’s reeve, herds
the villagers into a line, and Thomas gives each of them one drop from a phial.

“You will be free of plague for at
least two weeks,” Sir Thomas shouts. “And if anyone is bitten after that,
another drop of the Virgin’s blood will drive the demons out.”

There are one hundred and eighteen
villagers left in Danbury. We estimated that each phial holds thirty drops, and
Morgan gave Sir Thomas five of the six phials. This means that there is one
drop of Mary’s blood for every villager, and the fifth phial can remain sealed for
future use.

Morgan draws the sixth phial from his
pouch as Sir Thomas anoints each of his villagers. He holds the phial out to
Matilda.

“Keep it safe,” he tells her. “And
promise me you will stay in Danbury until I return from St. Edmund’s Bury.”