Page 5 of Halloween Knight (A Knights Through Time Romance #17)
The mournful ringing of the village bells made Lucy’s ears hurt as she rode down the muddy lane with a basket of soup, bread, and soap. Her heart sank, fearing she already knew what misfortune had likely befallen the stricken family.
As she dismounted, she patted Buttercup, handing the reins to Thomas.
A seamstress at the castle made fabric masks that could be tied around the wearer’s head. Hopefully, the masks would help keep the men safe.
“Tie this cloth over your face and wait for me.”
The captain of her guard nodded, “my lady, are you not worried you will catch the pox?”
Lucy shook her head. “I cannot catch it.” She hesitated, but obviously couldn’t say anything without inviting more questions and suspicions.
As she approached the cottage, her worst fears were confirmed. The mother and two children lay wrapped in burial shrouds outside the door. Inside the cottage, Eliza and her father were both abed.
Lucy rushed to Eliza’s side, but the girl was barely coherent, sweat running down her face and neck, despite her shivers. Angry red sores had erupted across her arms.
“Eliza, can you hear me?” Lucy pleaded, but received only a soft moan in response. Helpless frustration welled up inside her.
Eliza’s father cracked one bleary eye open, grief and rage burning through him as hot as the fever that consumed him.
“You did not pray when you were here last,” he spat. “Now God has seen fit to take my entire family. We are being punished.”
Before Lucy could respond, the village priest, Father Michael, appeared inside the cottage. “’Tis true. The pox is the heavenly Father’s wrath upon you and all your household.”
Lucy bit her tongue and tried to explain calmly. “Father, please. This disease spreads not by God’s hand, but by contact between people and by infected clothing and bedding. With rest and lots of broth to drink, Eliza and her father may yet recover.”
Father Michael’s face reddened. “Silence, Lady Blackford! Do not spew your blasphemies here. This plague is a divine judgment upon this family for their transgressions. Take care lest it fall upon Blackford next.”
Blood boiling, Lucy opened her mouth to respond, but Eliza’s weak coughing fit interrupted her. Lucy bent anxiously over the shivering girl, only to have her weakly push away the soup.
It was no use. Eliza and her father were too ill and weakened to take any nourishment. All Lucy could do was make them as comfortable as possible in their final hours as the priest prayed over them both.
By nightfall, Eliza and her father had joined the rest of their family in death.
The priest turned in the doorway of the cottage. “I may be new to Blackford Village, but I have heard what is said about you. How you bewitched Lord Blackford. How you tried to ensnare others. Witchcraft may be tolerated at the castle, but it will not be tolerated in my village.”
Talk about dramatic. Lucy barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Father Michael swept out of the cottage, head held high. Yet she saw the fear on his face, as he no doubt was afraid he’d catch the pox. And then what would he tell his flock?
Tired and angry, Lucy knew she shouldn’t think such awful thoughts. Sometimes, bridging the gap between her world and this one seemed insurmountable.
On the ride back to the castle, Lucy stopped at a small stream where she directed the men to wash their hands and faces, showing them how to scrub between their fingers with the soap she’d packed. The soup went to others in the village who were grateful to have it.
The pox spread easily and she didn’t want her children or anyone else to get sick.
As she followed Thomas and the men back to the castle, Buttercup meandering along, she shuddered, recalling the hatred in Father Michael’s eyes.
It was one time she was thankful her status as Lady Blackford protected her.
Upon returning, Lucy immediately found William in the lists.
“William. The pox is spreading in the village.”
He called for his captain and sent a boy to gather the servants .
Once all were present in the courtyard, Lucy gathered her thoughts. William touched her arm.
“Your lady has tidings. Listen well.”
“I bring sorrowful news,” she addressed them gravely. “The pox has taken several families in the village.”
Murmurs rippled through the servants. Wymund crossed himself solemnly.
“We must take steps to ensure it does not breach these walls,” William said.
Lucy nodded. “Every person should wash their hands regularly with soap and water.” She had been trying to get them to do it ever since she’d arrived in the past, maybe this illness would finally get them to listen.
“Wash your hands before meals, after touching anything unclean, and after contact with anyone who falls ill.”
The servants exchanged puzzled glances. The cook frowned skeptically.
“But my lady, the pox comes from God, so why should soap make a difference?”
When William touched her arm, she took a deep breath, willing herself to be patient.
“We may not fully understand why, but washing helps prevent sickness from spreading.”
She paused, then added, “pray for those you love.”
Thomas nodded. “We will heed your words.”
Lucy offered him a grateful smile. “At the first sign of fever, rash, or any other odd symptom, fetch me immediately. We must isolate you from others to avoid the sickness spreading through the castle.”
“Listen to your lady.” William met each eye. “I am called away on the king’s business and trust you will obey your lady whilst I am gone. ”
Murmurs of assent rippled through the group. They dispersed to share the news with those not present.
Lucy could only hope everyone here would remain untouched by the horrors she had witnessed in the village.
As they walked to the small graveyard, William spoke in a low voice. “Are you certain you will not catch the pox?”
She inhaled his scent, comforted by his presence.
“I’m sure. The vaccination I received in my own time protects me so I can’t catch the sickness.”
He looked relieved. “I am heartened, but Lucy?”
When she looked up at him, his face was grave. “Take care. Father Michael is most devout and will not take kindly to you gainsaying him.”
She knelt by Alan’s grave, the knight who saved her when she fell through time and paid for that act of kindness with his life. Albin had helped her plant flowers on his grave. When they were in bloom, there were primrose, bluebells, poppies, snowdrops, and cowslip that smelled like apricots.
William lifted her up, arms around her, and kissed her soundly. “I worry about you when I am away.” Then he tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Now, come and watch me best these whelps.” He grinned. “Swordplay is good for the soul.”
Lucy let William lead her to the bench, knowing he wanted to train with the men as much as possible before he left on the king’s business.
He bellowed for spiced wine for her before striding into the lists, sword at the ready. Her heart swelled with love as she watched him.
The servant brought her wine and departed, looking around nervously as if smallpox was hiding under the bench and would jump out and grab the poor man .
“Mama, watch me.” Jason toddled over to William, wooden sword in hand, as her husband spoke to him in Norman French, then showed her son once again how to hold the small wooden sword.
“I’m watching, my love.” Lucy called out to her son, proud of him.
William smiled as the boy swung the toy blade wildly, almost losing his balance with each swipe.
“Easy there, my boy,” William said with a chuckle. “You must learn control before you can learn to fight. Here, hold the sword with both hands - yes, just like that.”
William knelt in front of Jason, gently guiding his tiny hands into the proper position on the hilt.
“Keep your feet planted firmly and don’t lock your knees. Bend them slightly. Good. Now you won’t fall over if someone bumps into you.”
Jason grinned up at his father, gripping the toy sword tightly in anticipation of the coming lesson. William ruffled the boy’s mop of dark hair before standing up and retrieving a practice sword of his own.
“The first thing every warrior must learn is how to parry blows,” William explained. “Hold your sword out in front of you, flat side facing me.”
The boy did as he was told, struggling to keep the wooden blade aloft. William nodded in approval.
“I’m going to swing at you slowly. All I want you to do is raise your sword to block mine. We’ll go step by step until you get the hang of it.”
William swung his practice sword lazily at Jason, who managed to lift his own just in time with a loud clack as the blades collided.
“Excellent. Just like that. Again now... ”
The determination on Jason’s face mirrored her husband’s.
She had tried to convince William that Jason was too young, but he scoffed, saying he was having a wee sword fashioned for baby Peter, who couldn’t even walk.
Wymund agreed, saying the boys must learn to fight as soon as they could hold a sword.
Late that afternoon, Lucy glanced around at the kitchen servants bustling about preparing the evening meal.
What she wouldn’t give for just one day with modern appliances.
Her stainless steel refrigerator with ice in the door, the stove where she could adjust the temperature with the twist of a knob.
The microwave that had never failed to heat her food in under a minute.
Here, the kitchen staff labored all day roasting and boiling foods over the hot fire.
Meat pies took hours to prepare. In this era, everything required more time and effort, even the simplest tasks.
As much as the slower pace of life here was a welcome change from her hectic modern life, there were certainly conveniences she missed.
Her thoughts turned to the celebrations and festivals that would be starting up back in her own time in a few weeks. Halloween, with its spider webs and spooky lights, costume shops filled with excited children, and grocery store aisles piled high with bags of candy.
She even missed how she and her sisters bickered over what movie to watch or where to go for dinner. They had always been together, through thick and thin. Now here she was, centuries away from them, separated by the vast chasm of time itself.
At least she had her loving husband and beautiful children to keep her company, a fact that comforted her as she grabbed Jason before he could grab a loaf of bread off the wooden table, swinging him up in her arms, kissing the top of his head as he laughed and babbled on about fighting in the lists with his father.
Late that night, Lucy woke to moonlight streaming through the window. The fire cast a low glow over the chamber, and her nose was cold.
Careful not to wake William, she slipped from bed and pulled a cloak around her. Walking the battlements always helped to soothe her during this time of year. Once Halloween passed, she would be her normal cheerful self again.
She stood, gazing up at the endless starlit sky, her face touched by the gentle caress of the night breeze as she tasted salt on her lips, sending a silent wish across time, hoping her sisters and aunts were doing well back in the future.
Lucy looked down at her cloak of warm wool, trimmed in fur.
Back home, her wardrobe had consisted mostly of jeans, t-shirts and sneakers.
She hadn’t needed to wear six layers to go outdoors.
The cloak was soft under her fingers as she ran her hands down the wool and touched the fur trim, but it was no match for the soft cotton t-shirts and leggings she’d grown accustomed to in her own time.
As she turned to go back inside, an ominous sense of foreboding gripped her, sending a shiver down her spine. It was as if something was coming that she couldn’t see or prepare for. Something that meant her harm.