Authors: Bre Faucheux
Many of the houses had red slashes upon their doors, marking where the sickness had been. People here were not occupying the ale houses as they had in the previous villages she encountered. They didn’t drink away their sorrows.
A squeaking came from just beside her. Something was trying to climb up her leg. With a yelp she kicked it off and it crashed hard into the building nearest to her. The black rat quickly recovered and scurried away. She realized within seconds that these small beasts were everywhere. They busied themselves on the couple of corpses that lay outside houses, taking what parts they could. If Madison could become ill, she believed that this would be the time would she would have lost her food from genuine disgust. Even the crows were making their presence known about the bodies that lay on the street, taking what remained of them before they could be carted away.
Madison quickly walked over the grime in the streets to get away from the sight before her, finding it difficult to keep her balance in the muck of the streets. She felt as though she were sinking deeper into the filth with each step she took. She could no longer see the tan color that her shoes had once been. And new garments would be required as soon as she left this sordid city.
She rushed into the oncoming street and down an alley that appeared cleaner, only to find that the local butcher left no further peace for the neighboring resident’s sense of smell. The parts of pig he didn’t require, and the shavings from its skin, were all thrown into the street. Continuing forth, she ran down the alley directly opposite, not caring should anyone see her unnatural speed. Discretion was her last concern by this point.
The large stone structure before her looked like a cathedral. She pushed on the large expansive door and let herself in. She hoped that this may be the one area that Londoners thought to keep clean. She was shown no mercy. A man stepped in just behind her. She heard him close the door with his foot. She turned to see him carrying a small child; a daughter as frail as she had been, although quite younger. Her long hair trailed beneath her revealing a large blackened circular mark upon the back end of her neck. Her fingers were blackened and her nails protruded yellow pus. Her shoes had been left off, showing her toes to have the same likeness. The man didn’t even see Madison as he passed. He called out for the priest who lived within the large structure. No light shined from the stained glass throughout the building, leaving it dark and difficult for the man to navigate. Not even a candle was lit for those who were dying everywhere. The man continued to call out a name, becoming more distressed with each breath.
His sobs were eventually heard and a man appeared from behind one of the small wooden doors within the stone wall’s columns. He was obviously a priest, although Madison could just barely see his features. The man with his daughter in his arms could see him with even less clarity.
He spoke to the priest, trying to contain his sobs. “Please, father,” he managed to speak.
The priest faltered and stepped back shaking his head.
“She is only a child, you must give her rites, please father,” he continued. “I have here in my pocket four pence should you be willing.”
The priest took the door and slammed it shut, locking it quickly and moving up the column of stairs within the stone pillar. The man looked down to the ground, not making a sound. Collapsing to his knees, he cradled the child in his arms. Madison could feel his emotions throughout the entire cathedral. They were more powerful in his grief than any she had ever felt. The man sobbed quietly, taking his child’s head to his.
Madison came up from behind. He didn’t hear her walking to him. She extended a hand to his shoulder and did her best to calm his weeping as she penetrated his aura. She knelt down in front of him, not taking her eyes away from his, although he could only look downward. He slowly stopped crying and his composure changed slightly. He seemed as though he were in the same state she had been once she realized her grief for Jamison. Sorrowful, but with an acceptance for what had transpired. She reached for the child and took her into her arms. He let her go and stood up. Madison took her to the altar at the end of the church and laid her upon it, folding the child’s arms across her chest.
Walking back to her father at the other end, she took him by the arm and escorted him out. He seemed tranquil, b
ut not undisturbed. She doubted he would even remember having seen her in times to come, or that she had tried to help him. And yet, she only hoped that she had helped to quench his sorrows for the briefest of moments.
He slowly turned away from her and walked down the street from where he had come, no longer weeping, and no longer crippled by his loss. He was merely lesser for it. Of all the abilities Madison had come to harness, she quickly began to like this one the best. If she could ease such pain in others, then she could be satisfied with her new state of being.
Watching him walk away, Madison then heard a sound in the distance. It was hardly a sound that she expected to hear in the depths of grime within this city. It was the sound of children, and they were laughing. They were playing in fact. It was a few hundred yards away, but it was a distinct sound.
How could children possibly find happiness amongst all of this mourning
?
She slowly walked forth to where the clamor came from, relieved that anything joyful could be heard. Within a few minutes she was in an open area. Tall buildings still surrounded it, but the space appeared as though it may have been a market of sorts. All tents for selling were now gone, and only the hay and waste of animals remained on the ground.
Five children held hands and circled around one another. A few dances nearby and more chased one another about. Not a single adult was in sight. Their song echoed throughout the area. The mist of rain and grey clouds peering above didn’t stop their play.
Ring around the rosey,
Pocket full of poesy,
Ashes, ashes,
We all fall down!
They sang as loud as their voices could carry before a few stopped to chase the others again, slipping and sliding in the muck below their feet.
If their parents live, let them be damned for allowing them to play in such filth.
They repeated the rhyme again and again, not even noticing her watching them until she stepped forward. A few stopped and looked at her, their giggling still resonating throughout the space.
She took to her knee to be eye to eye with a young boy before her. She reached for his hand and he took it, smiling at her.
“Where is your father, little one?” she asked.
He shrugged and merely pointed upward to the sky. It took little effort to decipher what he meant.
“Me mum says he went to heaven,” he said, as though he expected him to return within a short time, and not fully comprehending what those words meant.
“What of you all then? Where are your parents?” she said loudly, looking to the others who had also stopped their play.
One came forward, a young girl. Her long black hair reminded her of the native children she had once seen playing with one another. But her skin was as pale as her own and her eyes a pale green.
“We five are of the same family,” she said, pointing others. “The three there come from down the lane.”
“You are all from the same street?” Madison asked. The little girl nodded in response and stepped closer to her. A few of her teeth were missing, but her smile still beamed.
“Your mother does not mind you out here alone then?” said Madison, keeping her tone as gentle as possible.
“I should not think so, miss,” said the girl, “We cannot be allowed inside.”
Curious, Madison looked at her strangely, revealing her eyes from beneath her hooded cloak.
“Why do you have violet eyes, madam?” said the little girl. Madison ignored the question. “Have you been sick with the others?” she asked.
“No, dear child, I have not. But I am curious as to why you cannot see your mother? Why can she not come to retrieve you?” Madison reached her other hand forward and the little girl took it, her suspicion for the intentions of strangers clearly not adhered.
“Because she is locked inside, madam,” she said, as if the answer were obvious.
“And why is that?”
“She has the pestilence.”
“And she is not allowed out?” said Madison, revolted by the action.
“And I not allowed to enter,” said the lit
tle girl, her cheeriness suddenly diminishing. Madison did her best to keep her sorrows away by continuing to hold both their hands.
It
was then that she realized something was odd about these two children. She extended her senses outward slightly and saw that the other children were just the same. Buried within their emotions, there was something she had not noticed until now.
It was numbness. There was a still aura throughout the air around them and on their person.
“What is that in your pocket, child,” said Madison.
“Poesy, madam,” she said calmly.
“Yes, the dark haired man gave it to us a fortnight ago,” said the boy.
“May I see it?” she asked. The boy eagerly took it from his pocket and placed it in her hand. It was as she suspected. Lying within her hands was the same likeness as the substance the healer had given her. And yet, it was a dried flower petal. She had never seen this flower in the lands she had left. And yet here it was before her.
“Who was the man that gave this to you?” she asked. “Did you learn his name?”
The child shook his head.
“He was tall and had dark hair,” said the girl.
The boy nodded beside her in agreement
. “He said it would protect us if we kept it with us,” he said.
Madison
took it and placed it within the young boy’s pocket once more. “Then you best have it with you,” she said, taking his hand again. “Did you happen to see where this man went?” she asked.
The young boy shrugged
, not knowing nor caring particularly about her questions. She tried to maintain his patience as long as possible as she held both their hands in hers.
“Go back to your game then
,” she said, letting go of them. Within a moment they had forgotten her presence all together.
Madison amplified her senses to try to pick up on the trail this man ha
d left. It was no wonder she hadn’t sensed it before with the fowl aroma of the streets penetrating every other sense she had. And yet, within a few yards of the open space it was floating inside a well. “Posey,” as they had called it.
From house to house, there was a scent that followed. The doors had been smeared with it. Remnants of the poesy was nearly everywhere. Even a few people who dared leave their homes carried it on them. But not in the same way the children had. It was inside them. They had consumed it from the well. Walking back to the Thames, she noted its presence again. The mixture was in the river itself. It was subtle, yet it was ther
e. Even on one of the corpses on the ground, it was present.
Madison looked down at
a man on the ground, lying dead before her. He too had the substance within him from taking of the water in the well. It was not until she truly looked at him that she noticed what others would not. There was no black mark upon him. He didn’t even appear to have suffered from the sickness. Although there was one feature he had that she knew quite well by this point.
Bite marks.
She examined him more closely, looking for anything other than grime and the poesy upon him. There was only blood and the scent of a man. It was one she immediately recognized.
Madison stood and instantly felt an aura penetrate hers. It was even more anxious than she was.
Jayden appeared from the dark corner of the street, his cape dirtied and dragging along behind him. “Couldn’t wait until dawn to see me, could you?” he said smugly.
“It’s Lyndon. I can smell him,” she said.
“Yes, I know.”
“You know?” she repeated in disbelief.
“And it appears as though he is not alone.”
PART III
19
European Continent
Rome, Italy
Four Days Later
The sickness showed little mercy to who it struck before Madison’s eyes. She never realized that it had spread as far as she now bore witness to. England was not the only country affected by its vicious grasp. She hardly expected to feel empathy for the French people, who she held responsible for the taking of her home as she and Jayden quickly followed Lyndon’s trail into France, and yet before her lay victims everywhere. Nor had she expected to find remnants of her own countrymen in armor on French shores, having partaken in the same treacherous acts that had left her without a home. It took little to no time for her to recognize that neither the English nor the French could individually be blamed. Both caused destruction beyond what she had once thought men capable.
The shores of France were littered with as much blood as her own village had spilled, and all caused by English swords. She no longer had an inkling as to why such things were done and why these two countries caused such harm to one another. And for the briefest moment, she felt relieved that the plague had temporarily put a stop to it.
Madison was excited by the prospect of hearing that Lyndon and Caspar were indeed alive, somehow making their way back to Europe long before her or Jayden made the journey. She was less excited to know that they had left a trail of bodies wherever they were. She and Jayden didn’t find it difficult to trail Lyndon as he quickly made his way through France and Italy. Only the prospect of finding Lyndon could have convinced her to journey into France. Nor had she expected to find the people there as normal and quaint as she had once been. The French held little to no differences to her, only angering her further at the knowledge that two close nations could find the energy to loathe one another to such a degree.
The gentleman Jayden
visited was brief with him. The sight of Jayden had apparently frightened the poor man nearly to lose himself to shock. Madison learned that his name was Allister, and he lodged alone in London. She was curious to learn how Jayden had known him, but not enough to ask.
Madison saw Rome as a city of little interest as it would more than likely resemble the sight of London in her mind. No other land they had approached held the same veneer as London had. In respect of the sickness, it was no different, but in structure, it was
completely varied. The detail given to one building or another was astounding. The homes and alehouses were more sandy than grey. Timbers appeared thicker and sturdier. There was more color in the stones and roof tops. The mark of nobility residing was more evident, and much more forceful. There was a beauty to it that England had not become accustomed.
It also appeared as though Rom
ans had more time to clean and grow used to the idea of chaos than the English had. Madison took this as a hint that the plague had come from the south, and Rome had seen the likes of it much earlier than England. Life did not appear to stop here as it did in London. The initial fear had worn down.
“Lyndon told Allister that we were all dead, and that only he and Caspar had been spared by the journey,” said Jayden as they trailed the lengths of cobbled streets.
“However did Lyndon manage to have him believe that?” she asked.
“He said that the pestilence caught everyone aboard. Apparently we were all lost to it at sea and the few remaining upon deciding to return to England were dead within a week of arriving home,” he said.
“How dismal,” she said sarcastically. “I gather your showing up was rather startling.”
“I sensed the ‘poesy’ on him almost immediately. But it was masked quite well by all the city’s stench,” he said.
“Yes, I discovered the same,” she said.
“You said that the children had it on them,” he asked.
“Lyndon is spreading it somehow. How he came by so much of it is beyond me.”
“He is probably doing so to keep himself hidden,” said Jayden roughly.
“Actually, I think not. The children said he claimed that it would protect them,” she said.
“How so?”
“That is what I want to know,” she said.
Their new horses dragged their feet through the cobble stone streets of the city. Their last few days had taken them to the English shores where Madison had once resided and over the English Channel. Madison was relieved to reach a continent that she suspicioned would not require swimming again for quite some time. As much as she had come to love the feeling within the water, it was becoming nuisance to travel through means of swimming.
“It should not be long before we find him,” he said. “I suspicion that he has plans to lodge here for the time being.”
“Then we would be wise to do the same,” she said. “Have you seen a tavern that accepts travelers?”
“None such yet. Most here seemed to stop taking in people quite a while ago for fear of further spread of the illness.”
“We may have to resort to a previous tactic then,” she said.
“If you see a home you fancy, mistress, say the word.”
There were hardly any suitable homes of comfort lining the outer rims of the city. The poor and sick had apparently been ousted. And yet further inside the city, it became obvious where nobility lived. The homes became grander in their appearance only a mile down the length of the streets. The structures scattered throughout the city were older than anything she had seen. She imagined them to have stood the test of time and that they would see generations to come. Some crumbled to the ground slowly as others stood boldly. Statues and art of all kinds graced the walls and cathedrals, but one hardly noticed them now. For who could notice aesthetics of this kind when death was everywhere. Madison supposed that many parishioners flocked to see such marvels in previous years. Now there was no one to admire them as she could without the fear of death all around her.
Eventually finding a home to his liking, Jayden stopped and dismounted his horse.
“What taste you have,” she remarked. “Whatever happened to discretion?”
“To hell with it,” he said. “We might as well be comfortable.”
The house before them was made of stone and was grander than any lodging they had previously attempted to invade. It was undoubtedly a home of nobility or of the like.
The task of confronting strangers had become an acquired skill for Madison. She often reached to touch their shoulder to quiet their concerns for foreigners
just as they opened their door to them. Her lack of knowledge for the language didn’t appear a problem. She merely expressed that they were friends in need of a place for the night, and did so without ever uttering a word.
The maid of the household led them to a small room beneath the main level of the large home. Beds were stacked on top of one another for the house’s help. It wasn’t what Madison had hoped for as far as how a guest should be treated, but then again, she quickly perceived from the maid that there were no nobles presiding over the care for this house any longer. They had long since died of plague. The maid had become the master of the house and took the bedding upstairs as her own.
Madison watched as Jayden gently reached for the young lady’s wrist, drinking only as much blood as he needed. She had become impressed with his methods of persuasion. He rarely spilled or caused great pain anymore, the wound was often mostly healed by the next morning. He was learning to survive on as little as he could, and she respected him more for it.
The maid slowly walked up the warped wooden stairs and left them in peace to rest, eyes gazing directly as though she were in a fog.
“It would seem you did more than simply calm her, Jayden,” said Madison from behind.
He smiled at her, proud of his honed and proficient skills. “I think we could make them love us with great ease, mistress. Gaining trust of strangers is growing easier. Have you not noticed?” he said, amused by the potential prospect.
“No, I have not. I have however noticed that this illness could easily spread by our taking of blood,” she said dusting off the cloth for her bedding with her hand.
“It has more than likely run its course here, mistress. I hardly think us a threat.”
Madison turned and looked back at him. He was already lying back on his bed with his arms crossed behind his head.
“We don’t know that for certain,” she said.
“Are you bothered by the fact that I enjoy taking from pretty young girls such as yourself or by the fact that I do it more efficiently than you?”
She didn’
t have to look at him at all to know he was grinning. “Why don’t you sit here and enjoy the notion that you are becoming a gentleman in your manner of consuming finally, and I will walk about the city for a while. Thus I shall hone my skills of efficiently finding Lyndon,” she said, sneering as she walked to the door. “We both know that I can hear him out better than you ever could.”
He sneered at her as she left the room, slamming the door behind her. His ability to get beneath her skin was becoming obvious. His backward way of complimenting her appearance was to take from women who directly resembled her in build and features. And then making it known that those she mirrored were more to his liking. If ever there were a more depraved way of making his warming inclination for her apparent, she would not know it. The only thing that made her even more irritated was that she almost found it flattering. It was a compliment… of sorts, that he only hurt them slightly. And his emotions always gravitated towards her when he fed. His satisfaction was only met when he knew that she was watching him.
The streets of Rome were surprisingly quiet at the night. Everything seemed to have a different atmosphere about it. Even with death still looming around every corner, the city held a mystery that she never found in England. There was elegance to its character. Although she sensed that there was suffering here just as there was anywhere. Spring didn’t carry warmer air just yet. Even though the cold did not affect her skin, she saw the shivers among others wrapped in heavy cloth as they hurried to their homes before the sun completely set. The city became dark within moments. Only a few remained about as Madison sat along the edge of a long stone wall listening to cathedral bells calling for the end of the day. Behind the wall stood a tall circular fortress, strong in build and yet crumbling with its years. Around her lay stones that once stood just as strong. She wanted to see Rome ages ago, when it was a city of glory. Now, it only appeared of a city with dreary memories.
She tried as best she could to lengthen her hearing. The city had grown hushed rather quickly, and leaving only the sound of the wind hastening passed. She drew the hood of her now moderately clean cloak over her head and focused as best she could. Searching through the streets for any sign of Lyndon had grown difficult. The healer’s mixture was easier to trace than anything else. She smelled it in the nearby wells within a reasonable distance. It seemed more widespread in these lands than it was in England, as if it had been here a while.
Madison had not expected to be sitting for such a brief time. A cracking of bone struck a wall within a short distance from where she sat. Someone had been shoved against something with ghastly force. She could clearly hear the tearing of skin being ripped open, followed by a groan. There was a wrestle to combat the attacker and finally submission. Madison stood suddenly and ran into the streets of the city, paying no mind if anyone were to see her speed. Cutting corners as fast she could, she followed the noise. It was all too familiar. The draining of blood from a body was as distinct of a sound as any other. And now, she could easily trace it.
She stopped suddenly in an abandoned alley. Lyndon stood before her, holding the limp figure of a middle aged man in his arms. Not even noticing Madison behind him, he wiped his mouth clean with his sleeve and dropped the man to the ground. Lyndon moved to walk away when he sensed someone behind him. He didn’t immediately turn around to face her. Madison could feel the confusion drifting from his body. When he did turn, his eyes widened. She slowly stepped toward him. He didn’t step away or even move. He merely gazed at her.
Madison was the first to break the awkward silence. “How did you survive? You were completely unconscious when I left you,” she said.