The next day, granny’s buboes in her armpits and groin were inflamed, and the blackened skin no better, but she spoke and even managed to sip a bit of broth. We prayed that she might recover.
That afternoon Gil and Ingelram returned. The priest went around asking the senior men to come to the chapel house behind the church and graveyard, hidden in the trees. It was a squeeze to fit everyone in, and most crouched, leaning back against the wall, for lack of a seat since there were only four stools. They offered me one as the only knight present, but I insisted the priest and the graybeards take them and propped my back to the wall.
Father Absalom stood and said a blessing and a prayer for guidance, and we all looked at each other with no idea what to say or to do.
Squatting, his elbows on his knees, Ingelram finally said, “Sir Archibald, you have spoken to English. Soldiers. Prisoners. Did any say anything that would help us ken what to do? What did they tell you?”
I tugged on my earlobe, trying to think of anything helpful. “All I have heard is that hundreds die every day. In London, it is said there are nae enough graveyards to bury the dead. The same in Winchester. Shops and homes are abandoned or all dead, so there is looting. Even fighting in the streets. People fleeing because being near the sick means you will catch it.”
One of the graybeards harumphed. “Probably a lot of nonsense. Aye, we has had one die, but there always be sickness. Men love to tell tales to fright the womenfolk.”
Ingelram glared at the man. “You have nae seen the state of my mother. Her skin is turned black before she is even dead!”
I straightened. “One of Lord Douglas’s men died of it. I saw that myself, and it was nae pretty death.”
“Aye, and that peddler died of it,” added Raso. “This no tale to fright the bairns.”
“What anent Melrose Abbey?” Ingelram said. “They have an infirmarer. We could send to them for help.”
I shook my head. “They could nae send away their only healer. Forbye, it may already be there for aught we ken. And I am worried about looting. If it went on elsewhere, it can here,” I said. “When people flee, some will look for easy pickings on the way. And Ingelram, your lads are out with the flock. They could be attacked for the sheep.”
His eyes widened. “Mother Mary, I hadnae thought of that.”
“They had better bring the flock back. If there is nae enough graze and some must be slaughtered, it is still better than having them stolen. Or the lads hurt.”
The door banged open and Joneta, panting and red-faced from running, gasped, “Father Absalom, come. ‘Tis granny.” As soon as the priest stood, she turned and fled back the way she had come.
I stretched my long legs running as fast as I could. I threw open the door and stopped in the doorway, reeling from the reek like that of rotting meat. Her eyes were wide open, lying dead, curled up on her side from her agony, staring at the pool of black slime that had oozed from her burst boils. I staggered back. My stomach roiled, and I heaved.
Father Absalom covered his mouth and nose with his wide sleeve as he crept in. I stopped Joneta before she could follow.
She pulled free. “I have to—prepare her.” No more tears came. Perhaps she had cried herself out.