02 Kemp Passage at Arms by Jonathan Lunn

Author:Jonathan Lunn
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781788630948
Publisher: Canelo Digital Publishing Ltd
Published: 2018-03-28T00:00:00+00:00

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The master of Saint Bartholomew’s Hospital was roused before dawn by the sound of the priory’s bells tolling, calling the brethren to lauds. He dressed in his habit and sandals and made his way to the cloister, washing his hands and face in the lavabo with the other monks before attending the early morning service of prayers and hymns.

He visited the hospital before breakfast, knowing that he could not face the stench of the pestilence victims on a full stomach. The main room was dimly illuminated by a number of rush candles, their weak flames guttering as they neared their end. The pestilence had filled every bed in the hospital and brought more victims besides, so he had had to arrange for straw-stuffed pallets to be laid on the floor wherever there was space, to accommodate the additional patients. Most of the patients were asleep, some of them twitching feverishly, others snoring peacefully, while others lay absolutely still, having found a deeper peace: nothing short of a release, after the suffering the pestilence inflicted. The master wondered how many more of their patients would have to be carted to the burial ground. The death toll was growing so rapidly that the gravediggers could no longer cope, and there was already talk of building communal pits for the victims. At least any deaths which had occurred in the course of the night would make more places available, but the master did not doubt that those places would be quickly filled as fresh victims were brought in.

The plump Austin nun who had watched over the patients during the course of the night sat in a chair in one corner, a psalter open on her lap, her head bowed, her ample chest rising and falling rhythmically with her snores. The master felt no anger that she had fallen asleep while on duty; if any one had needed help in the course of the night their groans would have roused her in time to fetch a priest, for their was little else to be done for these poor souls. Some of them even refused the last rites, like the young man who slept…

Glancing across, the master noticed that one of the beds was empty, the soiled sheets tossed back. He crossed quickly and seized the nun by the shoulder, shaking her to rouse her. She snorted and opened her eyes, blinking owlishly at him.

The master pointed across to the empty bed. ‘The young man who slept there. What happened to him?’

Still half asleep, she shrugged helplessly. ‘I… I don’t know. All the beds were full when last I looked.’

The master hurried out of the building. The false dawn had turned the sky a pale grey, and the city was only just beginning to stir. Smithfield was empty as yet, with none of the market stalls set up for the day’s trading. A figure stood stock-still in the middle of the market place, dressed in a black cloak with a loose-fitting cowl. The

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