On Richard’s instruction and Osbert’s agreement, they burned the dead bodies of Bertram Chisholm’s men. Richard had requested that everyone tear a cloth and tie it around their face as a makeshift mask and wash their hands as often as possible. Some complained about wasting water and what did their hands have to do with anything? Richard confessed that he didn’t know if it would help, but his reasoning was that it wouldn’t hurt.
Now, standing around the shop, waiting for the first batch of tea to boil on her small trivet in the back, Lily watched her husband. He mixed and stirred, smelled and tasted three different concoctions. Elias wrote the ingredients of each on a sheet of parchment then dipped his finger into different colored dyes and marked each list and a small bottle with a corresponding color.
She watched them both, thankful for them, thankful for Richard’s knowledge of herbs and roots and his skill at using them, and thankful that Elias was here to offer so much help, in so many different ways. He was strong and able to lift and carry many things to bring them back to the shop. Things were done faster because of him. He was intelligent and clever in a time of sheer panic, able to protect them with his sword if needed. And he knew how to read and write, which also made Richard’s tasks easier.
Bother Simon, too, made himself available to everyone young and old, praying with them and offering comfort—from the most terrifying, horrific sickness to ever fall upon mankind. The Black Death was here. It had found them.
It seemed as if the wailing never ceased. Someone was always weeping, whether man, woman, or child.
They had almost been away from here. On their way to a new life. Lily had wanted to lament with Joan when she last saw her, but she hadn’t. She had never given up her life before. She wouldn’t begin now.
She was sorry others were dying, but that didn’t mean any of them would.
The tea boiled in the kettle and filled the air with an aromatic scent.
“’Tis ready,” she informed them and stepped back when Richard filled a small cup with the mixture.
“Richard, why do you and Elias have to go near him and expose yourselves to the sickness?” What if they both fell ill? What would she do then? What would any of them do?
“I must know if this can cure him, my dear. Imagine how many people we could save. We have already been exposed, Lily. The three of us more than the rest. I must be about my work.” Her husband turned and left the shop.
She didn’t know if she agreed with Richard and Elias’ decision to let Bertram live. Save an evil man in order to try to save everyone else? Or let him die and rot in hell for the things he’d done and would do again if he were given the chance.
If they didn’t find the cure before he died, what good was letting the sickness spread from him?
But if they found something…
She caught Elias slanting his gaze at her over his shoulder. Did he wink? Oddly, she felt a little better about everything and leaned back against the doorframe and watched them head toward the shed.
A little while later, she saw Brother Simon coming toward her and smiled, though he couldn’t see it behind her mask.
“Are they inside?” he asked, reaching her.
“Aye.”
“I have been praying in the church with Father Benedict,” the brother told her without moving to go into the shed after them. “We have different views on some things. But we agree that we need the Lord’s intervention here.”
“Do you think He will let Bertram live?” she asked him.
“God might,” Brother Simon guessed, “but Bertram will have Elias to worry about after that.”
“Aye,” she said with a hint of a smile hovering over her lips. “Richard told me Elias’ promise.”
Brother Simon looked toward the shed and spoke solemnly. “I have never known him to go back on his word.”
She couldn’t help but wish Elias had come to Sevenoaks two years ago. But everything happens for a reason. He was here. Now. For a reason. What was it?
Did it have something to do with her…or the Black Death?
She suspected she would soon find out.
“Brother Simon?”
“Aye, lass?”
“There is something I have been meaning to ask. Why did you and Elias stay when you first heard about the pestilence? Why did you both not race back home to the north?”
His cheeks turned red and he swallowed as if he fought to keep his words in his mouth, but they pushed out. “He…he is sometimes reckless, or so ‘twould seem. One always comes to realize that he had his victory planned out from the beginning. As in the case of Bertram. He rushed to your defense and to mine, but not before he rendered Bertram helpless. In your case, he saw you, met you—and everyone here, and once more stood up to the threat of death.”