An Uncertain Choice(29)

The sheriff glanced at me quickly, but I caught sight of the irritation in his eyes before he could hide it. While the duke nodded his approval, the abbot’s shoulders seemed to sag and his face creased with wariness.

“There’s no need to cancel the festivities over one incident, Father Abbot,” I hurried to explain. “Besides, we shall be inside the Great Hall and well guarded.”

The abbot stared at me for a long moment. “If that’s what you wish, my child.” His expression had resolved into one of calm resignation. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help feeling I’d somehow disappointed him.

The door banged open and Bartholomew barged in, breathing heavily as if he’d been running as fast as his old legs could carry him. “My lady,” he said between gulps of air. “I beg your pardon for disturbing you.”

The worry in his aged face set me on edge. “What tidings do you bear?”

“There’s been a new outbreak of the strange illness,” he gasped, “in town.”

Dread dropped like a ball and chain in my stomach. “Here? In Ashby?”

Bartholomew nodded solemnly.

For a moment I was too weighted down by the news to move or think. Then panic sent me into motion. “Send word to the steward to prepare a cart of food and medicinal supplies. I must go into town at once.”

“No, my child,” came the abbot’s reply. “You cannot go. It would be too dangerous.”

“I have to agree,” the duke said, his chain mail clinking as he crossed toward me. “It’s too dangerous. We don’t know enough about this illness yet. And you cannot chance exposing yourself. Your people need you too much to risk catching the illness.”

My heart urged me to rush down into the walled town to help the people I loved. My parents had risked their lives to help the sick during the Plague. But the truth was, as the only heir of Ashby, I couldn’t afford to die. If I were to perish now, my lands would be divided among the neighboring lords, including the cruel Lord Witherton, who was rumored to use torture regularly simply for entertainment. I had to stay alive for as long as possible in order to assure that my people were governed kindly and fairly.

“Allow one of my men to take the provisions and medicine,” the duke continued, “but please use caution for yourself.”

The abbot nodded, his gentle eyes admonishing me to accept the council.

“Very well,” I said. “Send the cart without me.”




I hurried out of the gatehouse and onto the drawbridge, glancing behind me to make sure none of the guards had recognized me. In one of Trudy’s plain cloaks and with a basket underneath adding to my girth, I hoped I passed for my plump nursemaid.

“I’ve neglected my visit to town long enough,” I said to myself, trying to push away my guilt. “Besides, I didn’t promise the duke I would refrain from visiting. I only told him to send the provisions without me.”

Although I’d sincerely wanted to obey the advice of the abbot and the duke to stay out of town, the need to visit had been growing all through my prayer time with the abbot. I wanted to reassure the people myself that I cared about their plight. I wanted to make sure they were being taken care of. And a curious part of me wanted to discover how the illness had started in town, especially after the sheriff had reassured me that he’d made great efforts to quarantine and contain the disease to the already infected outlying areas.

I’d also felt a strange need to mingle among my people and prove that I wasn’t changing, that I was still as devoted to God as I’d always been. Besides, I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t get too near the infected, that I wouldn’t put myself in harm’s way. Surely a short visit would do no harm.

I glanced heavenward to the clouds, to the angry, swirling black and gray. Was God angry with my people or with me? The question hadn’t stopped needling me all afternoon. Why else would he allow such outbreaks throughout my land?

With the heavy basket underneath my robe weighing me down, I was breathing heavily by the time I made my way to the area where the poorest of the poor lived. A makeshift fence had been erected at one end of the deserted alley and a guard was posted in front of it to effectively keep anyone from entering the infected zone. More likely, the guard was charged with prohibiting anyone from leaving.

I ducked into a dark side street. How would I approach the area and the guard without revealing my identity?

I leaned against the side of a ramshackle hovel that had somehow escaped the illness. I drew in a deep breath, wrinkling my nose at the sourness of waste that was a constant stench in the poor district — ?not only from the dogs, cats, and chickens that roamed freely, but also from the human excrement that was slovenly dumped from those too busy or sick to carry it to the ditches outside of the town walls.

Down the street, a group of children played a game of chase among the refuse. ’Twould not be long before they noticed me and came closer to discover the reason for my visit.

My mind whirled, trying to formulate a plan. But before I could move, a form darted out of the shadows of the huts, and a hand slipped around my neck, quickly covering my mouth. Strong fingers clamped across my lips, blocking any sound I might have been able to make if fear hadn’t rendered me speechless.

The grip pulled me back into a solid chest, not roughly but firmly nonetheless. My captor began to walk backward, dragging me along several steps.