Schultz Plagues and Princes

The Great Mortality
1. Auflage 2018
ISBN: 978-1-5439-3054-2
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 280 Seiten

Drawn to the unknown, Thomas de Parr confronts an uncertain future. He questions a life of peace and communal solitude behind the walls of the monastery where he grew up as a ward of the abbot. When the greatest calamity known to man strikes, his world is torn apart. Sought by evil men and a vile disease, he must find the will to survive. Will it be love or friendship that pulls him from the brink?

Autoren/Hrsg.

Schultz, Thomas

Leseproben

Chapter ONE Chepstow, Wales, April 1348 “I prayed at my mother’s tomb and promised I’d become a monk,” Thomas said. “What does that have to do with calling your father a liar?” Andrew asked, as he sipped ale from a clay mug. “The day I left home, my father stood next to me by her tomb. I was too small to see the face carved into her marble effigy. He told me she loved me, but I have no memory of her.” Andrew’s brown eyes glinted in the mid-day light that shone through the front window of the Broken Oar. He shoved aside his empty bowl of leek and rabbit pottage. Thomas wiped his mouth with his sleeve and piled his bowl on top of Andrew’s. Without the sweet scent of leek under his nose, the stale, musty odor of spilled ale and vomit again ruled the air. He waited for Andrew to say something, but Andrew’s silence goaded him. Another sip of ale loosened his restraint. “I left home eight years ago, and not once did my father visit me. He said he would, but he never did.” Thomas drained his drink and slammed the mug on the table harder than necessary. “And now Abbot Michael wants me to wait until after Michaelmas before I take my vows.” “At least you know who your father is.” “I meant no—” “I know.” Andrew emptied into Thomas’s mug the last of the ale from the pitcher left by Eva, the young barmaid. “I want to believe my father cares. But all I heard on our trip to Tintern was ‘Study your Latin’ and ‘Mind the abbot.’ He was adamant I’d become an abbot one day and make the family proud. Is that all I am? A means to make my father proud? I’m sixteen now. What else can I do?” “Is this all because William is coming to Bristow?” Thomas looked out the window and watched a horse-drawn cart rumble down the street toward the wharf that edged the River Wye. Andrew was right; he missed his older brother more than he wanted to admit. “William never came to visit either. I’m sure my father drove him away. William wanted to be a knight—like every second son. What would my father say if I told him I no longer want to be a monk?” “Abbot Michael said the abbey could make a lot of money if William’s plan to sell wool in Calais goes well.” Loud voices from a table of freemen on the other side of the room stole Thomas’s attention. “The pestilence is already in Marseille,” the loudest voice said. “When did you hear that?” another man asked. “I was in Bristow last week. A merchant from Navarre told me. He said death comes quickly once the bad humors drift in.” Disbelief thick on his tongue, a third man chimed in, “How can that be?” “By Christ’s blood, how should I know? The merchant said ghostly ships wander the sea, dead men covered in horrible sores, the reek of Satan everywhere. God forgive us if this sickness comes to Wales.” A vision of William sailing home aboard a slow cog flashed in Thomas’s mind: an evil-looking ship close behind, its torn sails and rugged wood shrouded in a haze of bad air. Andrew jerked his head toward the men. “Do you think William is safe from that sickness those men are talking about?” Thomas dismissed the frightening image and shrugged. “Calais is a long way away. Once I take my vows, we won’t be able to go hunting anymore. The Broken Oar will have to buy its rabbits and squirrels elsewhere. And you’ll need to find another excuse to come to Chepstow to see Eva.” Eva waved to Andrew. He smiled back and sipped his brew. “Do you think Eva is pretty?” Thomas forced a look. Her long brown hair had the sheen of polished walnut and her cream-colored dress highlighted the budding figure of a girl of sixteen. He had to admit her full lips and her soft, round face were pleasing to the eye. “She’s shorter than you. Do you enjoy her attention?” “I never thought about that.” Andrew looked into his mug and motioned to Eva for a refill. “Why do you ask?” “All you have to do is walk down the street and the girls flock to you like ants to honey.” Andrew shrugged and emptied his mug in one long gulp. “You should try talking with girls. I hear them say they like your blue eyes.” “What good would it do? Monks are not allowed—” “Now’s your chance…before you take your vows.” “My chance? What about you? Lay brothers are celibate too.” “I haven’t decided if I’ll join the lay brothers. Quiet. Here comes Eva.” Andrew’s gaze followed Eva as she approached and filled his mug. “Thank you, Eva.” Her voice giddy, Eva tugged at her hair while she spoke. “My mum sends her blessings. She misses seeing you at the Three Monks Inn.” Thomas’s stomach turned at Eva’s tone. She never talked to him that way. He leaned back to finish his ale and gestured for more, but Eva ignored him. “If Talfryn paid more for squirrels or blackbirds, I might stop by more often,” Andrew said. “Well, if you want to walk me home after I finish work, my mum would like that. Then you could tell her you are well. She worries about you.” “How long are you working?” “I’m almost finished. My mum wants me home before the dockhands get too drunk. The men have a tendency to let their hands wander. I can take care of myself, but my mum worries. You know how she gets sometimes.” Her brown eyes sparkled when she smiled. Andrew winked. “Do I need to watch where my hands go?” Thomas banged his mug on the table. Eva absently poured the remnants of her pitcher into the mug, spilling some on the table, and walked away. His speech slurred, Thomas said, “She hates me.” Andrew watched her walk away. “What gives you that idea? Maybe you should slow down on the ale. We have to get back to the abbey.” Thomas straightened his posture. “I’m fine.” In his ale-induced confidence, it didn’t matter that Andrew had the physical size to better handle his ale. Andrew’s muscles came from turning piles of seasoned logs into firewood, whereas his skinny arms struggled to heft leather-bound manuscripts from shelf to lectern. He felt the room sway. “You go take care of Lena.” “Eva.” “That’s what I said. Just leave me to sit here all by myself.” Thomas chugged his ale, then leaned forward with his head on his arms. When the priory bells rang the mid-day call, the metallic song morphed into a muted twang that drifted to garbled noise. Andrew checked to make sure Thomas slept soundly in the chair. He then joined Eva at the counter where Alfred, the owner of the Broken Oar, drew ale from a firkin. “Would you watch Thomas for me, Alfred? Eva wants me to walk her home.” “Mind your manners,” Alfred said. “I need her back here tomorrow morning.” Eva took Andrew’s hand and led him out of the alehouse and up the hill from the riverfront toward High Street. Ruts carved into the dirt road during the morning rain had hardened and made Andrew divide his concentration between watching where he walked and gazing at Eva. People and carts hustled along High Street. Shops and narrow, two-story cottages bordered the road. Horses and oxen clamored in a mixed tune of whinnies and bellows. Located near Chepstow’s main gate, the Three Monks Inn usually filled its beds, which made for long hours of work for Eva’s mum. The sound of laughter poured out the windows of the inn’s main hall. As they turned down the alley beside the three story inn, Andrew asked, “Is your mum home?” “My mum has to work late.” A shot of excitement sparked within Andrew’s gut at the prospect of what ‘work late’ meant. Their past interludes had been quick and furtive; never a chance to truly enjoy the moment like he thought sex should be. Of all the days to come to Chepstow with Thomas, today had to be the one Eva’s mum worked late. His sensibilities told him to turn around, but he followed her to her cottage in the corner of the fenced yard behind the inn. The clang of the iron latch on the simple wooden door sounded like a crack of thunder in the stillness. Adrenalin surged throughout his body washing away the effects of the alcohol. “No one’s about. You can come in.” Eva’s voice hypnotized him into forgetting everything he should have known. Anticipation dried his mouth. He licked his lips. He knew exactly what was going to happen, yet he was powerless to stop it. Eva sat on the bed in the sparsely furnished, one-room cottage. She looked at him and motioned for him to join her. Unable to resist, he sat beside her. She put her hand on his thigh and leaned close. His entire body tingled. Reason and hesitation disappeared. He embraced Eva and drew in the warmth of her slender body. Their lips met. He held his breath as a rush of...