Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
THOMAS
“Treat diseased plants immediately, lest the sickness spread.”
~ Growing Greatness: Common Garden Plants in Arcanloc
W hen I’d been sent, I expected a few poor, desperate people, and I got them. We dug the latrines and set up tents and cookfires. It looked as neat as any La’Angi army hospital ever did, and I took pride in that.
What I didn’t expect—and I should’ve—was that they came in family groups. Sometimes, it was a mother with sick children, sometimes children with sick parents—none of the groups that arrived were all unwell. And it made sense, didn’t it? Not only was I running a field hospital with a handful of good men, but I was also organizing a group of volunteers.
There was little to do for the sick, but they wanted little, anyway. Somewhere warm and safe was what I could give them, and most of their families were happy to either sit with them or make themselves useful around the camp. There were no Magework Healers to be found, but after seeing one dying of the plague, I wouldn’t have had one anyway, not to work. Instead, herbalists had made poppets, tinctures, potions, and oils. What good they did, I didn’t know—they were gratefully taken, and that was valuable, too.
They came looking for hope. What I could give them was order.
The lady arrived—to my horror—on foot and leading her horse, when we’d been there almost two weeks. In her saddle sat a wizened old woman, and by her side was a tight-lipped Chay. She brought more tents, more blankets, more flour, and salted meat. I made time to talk to her, but she was helping cut vegetables beside a cookpot, speaking to two older women.
“I wouldn’t have said so myself, my lady,” one of them demurred. “But if others do, then I can’t speak against it, either.”
I hung back, but the oldest woman looked sharply up at me all the same. “There’s just a few who’re the problem,” she said very deliberately. “I don’t envy you trying to manage them, milady.”
“Oh, I’m just helping out where I can,” the little lady said, her smile sunny. “I’m more use here, cutting potatoes, than I was in a castle, worrying.”
I watched from behind her as she peeled them deftly. Rose lost less of the vegetables, but it would be a near thing.
Who’d taught my lady how to peel a potato?
For some reason, seeing her smile and chat made me feel better about the day. I spotted a lad who’d taken on runner duties coming for me from between the tents, and there was some hope in my heart. It felt good. “Sir, we’ve nowhere the new group can fit together. Should we set up another pocket of camp?”
I resisted the urge to smile at the term, and that surprised me. “How short are we, and can we rearrange any of our families?”
He shook his head. “Not unless someone dies, sir.” Then he looked up at me, horrified. “Or leaves.”
The joy I’d felt was gone again. “Then yes, we’ll set up some more tents if we’ve got them. We want to keep families together.”
He nodded and ran off. I turned back and saw the women around lady Audrey in deep conversation. She kept her eyes down, peeling her vegetables. But that girl knew what was going on.
Steps beside me made me glance over as Chay stopped at my side, shield tossed over his shoulder and hand on his belt like a cocky sellsword. My young counterpart had a good heart, but little sense.
“I checked, and there’s no letter from your family,” he told me, pitching his voice to carry only to my ears. “Bad news travels fast, though.”
I hadn’t asked it of him, and I was caught between gratitude for his thoughtfulness and worry for my family.
“Thanking you,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say.
He shrugged, glancing around quickly. “Situation with the guard isn’t good,” he said even quieter, his eyes moving slowly over the gathered people. “I don’t know any locals, and Isolde isn’t able to go out.”
Worry flared. “Is she so unwell?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t seen her in weeks. I haven’t asked Audrey, but…”
“The lady would tell you if it was important,” I said, emphasizing her title.
Chay didn’t seem to notice my pointed correction. “Perhaps. I think we’re in a bad spot.” He looked at me levelly. “I suggested to Audrey we should all visit your family.”
Gratitude and fear, again. I didn’t look around, trusting he wouldn’t be speaking so if anyone were in earshot, but I still leaned in a little to say, “What’ll people say if they hear you calling her by name, boy?”
One of his brows rose. We both fell silent as an older woman passed us by, an apologetic smile on her lips and herbs in the basket in her hands. We watched her go together, and Chay said, “I think we’ve bigger issues than Audrey’s reputation, Thomas. It isn’t like I’m moaning it at night, after all.”
I looked at him hard, not convinced by the casual way he looped his thumb into his belt. For those thoughts to even be in his head meant we were in more trouble than I’d realized. “I take the Duke just as seriously as I take this plague,” I told him, putting as much force into the whispered words as I could. “I’d recommend you do the same, lad.” At the flicker of irritation on his face, I added, “If not for yourself, then for her.”
His expression smoothed at that reminder, and rather than settle my fears, his reaction only solidified them. Whatever had been running through that boy’s head, I was confident it’d get both of us killed.
Before I could even consider letting him have the sharp side of my tongue, he said, “The point is, the situation at the castle is grim. She’s vulnerable, and there’s an easy solution.”
I bit off my frustration with the boy. His idea of easy didn’t match mine, but mayhap the simple life had spoiled me. “When do we leave, then?”
His eyes cut over to where she was now stirring the pot. The older woman was sitting, cup in one hand and swinging the other wildly. The younger was nodding along, scrubbing more vegetables in filthy water. I was eons away from that group of women, but the little lady had slipped right on in. I felt even further from the knight at my side, wearing the same tabard as I, sworn to the same cause. He didn’t even try to disguise his interest as he stared at her. I opened my mouth to tell him that look would get him flogged, and then I saw his eyes dip. The little lady had gathered her skirts and was taking a seat, ready to peel more vegetables.
Fury pulsed through me as I followed his gaze to the curve of her calves above her low riding boots. She shifted a moment later, skirts resettling, and his eyes bounced back to me, but it was too late.
In my mind, I could see myself plowing my fist into his mouth. I could feel the burn of my own bones splintering as I used them to crack his.
In reality, I lifted that hand and put it on his shoulder, leaning in. It didn’t matter who saw, now. “You’re not local,” I murmured in his ear, forcing the words out past my teeth. “You don’t know your manners, and it’s showing. Don’t let it show again.”
His mouth thinned, a silent objection, and my hand tightened on that big shoulder of his.
“You were a big fish in a small pond,” I said, reaching for my patience. “Here, boy? The pond is bigger, and you’re at the bottom of the food chain. Keep your eyes off her.”
“The One, the Wife, and the Son,” he muttered furiously, brushing me off, and I let him. “You’re so bogged down in your own fear you can’t see what’s coming.” He stayed in close, his voice low and furious. “The Duke is gone. Your buddies are ‘taxing’ everyone, choosing the shifts they attend, and killing those who disagree. I don’t have to like her to know I’ve sworn to keep her alive, and this is not how we do that.”
I felt sick. “Use the courtesy your mama taught you, then, when you address her, and we can deal with the next issue.”
He laughed, a low and bitter noise, then stepped back. “I am. I’m using exactly what she taught me. Forget it, Tom.” He turned and stalked off in the direction of his horse. People scurried out of his way.
I wondered if he knew people had fled from Mikus the same way.
When I glanced over, Audrey met my gaze fleetingly, her expression somber. My heart dropped further.
She’d seen the exchange.
Scrubbing a hand over my military-smooth chin, I wished I, too, had somewhere to retreat to. But Audrey didn’t question me when she extracted herself. Not about that.
“There are a few houses that have been turned into storage for bodies,” she said, brushing a stray hair from her eyes and leaving a smear of dirt on her cheek as we wandered back toward the horses. “While they dig graves.”
I’d seen it on the way out of the city. They had tried to put the graves a sensitive distance from the city wall, but they needed road access for the dead carts, and burial duty was unpopular. No one wanted to go further than was needed, and no one had time to, either.
“Logistically, the winter will cause issues,” she went on. “Do you think it’s fair of me to request additional graves dug now, before the ground freezes? I don’t want to be the voice of hopelessness, but if winter comes and bodies are left lying about…”
“Fire cleanses,” I reminded her softly.
“Fire also spreads, and we’ve limited people to control it.” She paused on the edge of the area her horse had been tethered. Chay was with his own big, grumpy beast and hadn’t glanced over. They deserved each other. “I agree it would be a good option, but a pyre for so many would require space and management I don’t have, not to mention transporting all those resources.”
My head ached, and the wind whistled around us. Her shoulders were too broad for a noblewoman, but not broad enough to carry this unaided. “I’m not familiar with burial in situations like this,” I admitted, the words coming from far away. “But I know the corpses can enrich the soil for future generations if we treat it right.” Or we could add some salt and poison it. Let them plow fields to find skulls of their kin. I heard the creak of the cart and the smell of blood and snow.
“I don’t know how long this plague might exist inside a deceased body, if it does at all.” She blew out a breath. “Still, it’s relevant. Hopefully, we’ll be rebuilding one of these days. We’ll need all the help we can get.”
“As you say, my lady.”
She looked up at me, her eyes old in her face. “How are you, Thomas?”
I watched from far away, resisting the urge to lick my thumb and clean the smudge of dirt off her cheek. “I’m well, my lady. Don’t you worry about me. It sounds like you’ve enough to concern yourself with.”
“Oh, really?” she asked, brightly. “I hadn’t noticed anything amiss!”
I didn’t realize it was an attempt to joke until I saw a smile tugging at her mouth, and then I didn’t quite know how to respond. “Yes, my lady,” I agreed, stepping back. “Safe travels.”
They rode out on opposite sides of the trail, and I was glad to see that gaping space between them, though it highlighted the lack of handmaid and second guard. Unease tugged at me, so I turned away, hoping that it was never even mentioned, so full were people’s minds.
The rain came that night. Trenches dug by inexpert hands around tents were deepened, fires were fed, and soup was held close. I slept with aching bones and a heavy heart in the tent kept for the guards, but was shaken awake in the early hours of the morning to find we’d suffered our first loss.
Digging graves was no small feat. You had to dig them deep enough that they didn’t get dug up again. It was hard, soul-crushing work. And with the rain and the cold, it was also dangerous work. I had volunteers. We all knew it had to happen. The dead couldn’t just sit. But where to bury them? Not close to the tourney ground—we didn’t need their bodies under us during the festivities next year, should any of us survive. We certainly didn’t want to risk them decaying and adding to the sickness we swam in here.
In the end, we buried our dead in the orchard. Graves were marked with handfuls of dandelions and other posies gathered by children or prettily arranged leaves. I listened to speeches in sunshine, in wind, and with rain dripping off my nose. Sometimes, when there was no one else, I did my best to say a few words. And as my skill increased, I wondered how many more times I’d have the time to stand beside a grave. How many more people would be buried by themselves, with dignity.