Emmie and the Tudor Throne by Natalie Murray

Author:Natalie Murray [Murray, Natalie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781953238580
Google: VQmgzgEACAAJ
Amazon: B09MQ6SFCX
Publisher: Midnight Tide Publishing
Published: 2022-03-15T18:30:00+00:00

For three days, I attended to Phoebe and Hugh while Jasper did his best to help but mostly hid inside his room. I couldn’t blame him for that. Watching Phoebe and Hugh get eaten alive by the black plague was something that I knew would haunt me for the rest of my life if I was lucky enough to survive this. They cried, and screamed, and sweated, and prayed, and shouted at things that weren’t there. Furious, painful lumps sprouted from their necks and armpits, and I wanted to soothe the sores with balm, but Jasper begged me not to touch the sick at all. I think he was paranoid about me being the next to perish, leaving him alone in this house of death.

Nick sat vigil outside the boarded-up window and relentlessly begged me to let him through the locked door, but I was unshakeable. Not only did we need him to continue bringing us food, water, and firewood, but if both Nick and I succumbed to the black death, there would be no one left to stop Mary Stuart.

Do you really think there’s any chance of that happening now, Emmie? Wake up! Mary is coming for you all unless the black plague gets you first.

Phoebe died on day four. She passed away in a state of fevered madness that put the fear of God into me. I was now washing my hands in hot water every ten minutes and changing my clothes three times a day. I slept on the floor in the hall beneath the window, as close to fresh air and Nick as I could get.

I reluctantly left the reassuring sound of his voice to help Jasper carry Phoebe’s body, swollen with buboes, to the door with gloves on our hands. Two men from the village, sent by the magistrate, met us on the steps in Tudor-style hazmat suits and wheeled her away to be burned along with her clothes and bedding. Nick and I caught a stricken glimpse of each other through the gap in the doorway before Jasper locked us back inside on the magistrate’s orders. Hugh Wynter was still upstairs, writhing and moaning in hellish discomfort, but so far, the disease hadn’t spread beyond the farm.

Jasper and I were locked in a terrifying game of Russian roulette, taking silent bets on who was to be cursed first with this hideous death sentence.

That night, Nick made more urgent pleas from the window.

“Emmie, we do not belong here!” he said, his fingers pressed to the boards. “We must be thankful that it is God’s will that you remain well, and take our leave of this purgatory of torment before our fortunes change.”

The temptation to leave was fierce, but I kept my composure. “I can’t leave Jasper alone here to tend to Hugh; he’s just a kid, and Hugh’s in a terrible way. Plus, if I have the plague, Nick, I can’t risk giving it to you.”

“Speak not such words!” He drove his fist into the wall, sending a jolt through it.

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