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Authors: Mary Hooper
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sacking, with deep hoods over their heads, carrying long white staves in front of them.
I instinctively shrank back, fearing their very appearance, and Tom did too, pressing into the shop doorway beside me.
‘Who are they?’ I asked with a shiver as they passed us. ‘Where are they going?’
‘They are the searchers of the dead,’ Tom said. I looked at him, alarmed, and he added, ‘They are employed by the parish. In the event of a death it is their gruesome duty to search the body and ascertain why that person has died. If they find the plague marks on them then the sexton has a grave prepared and sees that their house is shut up for forty days.’
‘But there have been no cases of plague round here!’
His expression grew solemn. ‘I fear there may have been,’ he said. He squeezed my hand. ‘But go in and tell your sister what you’ve seen – she may know something further.’ He caught my eyes and smiled. ‘Try to be of good heart whatever the news is. I shall call on you with your cordial as soon as it is made.’
Chapter Six
The second week of July
‘But Lord, how everybody’s looks and discourse in the street is of Death and nothing else.’
When I went inside there was just one taper burning in our back room, and Sarah was sitting quietly on our bed, her hands folded in her lap.
‘What is it?’ I asked, alarmed, for normally she would have been busy doing something: weighing up sugar, writing the accounts or mending an apron. Now, though, she was just sitting there, her face shocked and pale.
I put down the trug and went towards her. ‘I saw two horrible old women on the road. Tom told me they were searchers of the dead. Did you see them? Where have they been?’
Sarah’s hands clenched into fists. ‘They’ve been nearby, Hannah. In the first alley off Crown and King Place.’
‘And where did they search?’
She looked down. ‘In the old house hard by the signof the Blue Goose.’
‘Dickon and Jacob’s house?’
She nodded. ‘It was the babe. Their little sister Marie —’
I gasped. ‘Not—’
Sarah swallowed hard. ‘She was taken poorly only yesterday, but her mother, Mrs Williams, told no one for fear they’d call in the authorities. She said it looked like just a rash. She thought it was a sweating sickness. But then this morning two buboes came up on the child’s body.’
‘What are they?’ I asked fearfully.
‘Hard lumps of matter. They come up in the groin, or in the neck or under the arm.’ She hesitated. ‘They are a sure sign of plague.’
‘And then what happened?’
‘Mrs Williams called for an apothecary, for they couldn’t afford a doctor. And it wasn’t Doctor da Silva, it was someone else. But before he could arrive the buboes had become so engorged with matter that the baby could not move its legs or head without screaming.’
I shuddered.
‘And although the apothecary tried to lance the buboes it was too late. They said she screamed out one last time – the most terrible sound – and then died.’
I pulled up a stool and sat next to Sarah, not saying anything for some moments, trying to absorb and understand what this meant. I hardly knew Marie, for she was barely two years old and had not been walking long enough to be out and about much with Dickon and Jacob. I’d just seen a sturdy, grubby, childstaggering about the place trying to catch hold of one of the cats. Once I’d given her a few candied rose petals and she’d gabbled in baby-talk at me and run off.
After a while I asked Sarah to tell me more of the tale.
‘The first I knew that the child had . . . that is, the first I knew what had happened was that the bells of St Dominic’s started tolling. And then Mr Newbery banged on the door here and shouted that there had been a terrible event. I went outside and everyone seemed to be at their doors, just standing there, silently. I went from house to house asking what had happened, but they were all crying and could hardly
I instinctively shrank back, fearing their very appearance, and Tom did too, pressing into the shop doorway beside me.
‘Who are they?’ I asked with a shiver as they passed us. ‘Where are they going?’
‘They are the searchers of the dead,’ Tom said. I looked at him, alarmed, and he added, ‘They are employed by the parish. In the event of a death it is their gruesome duty to search the body and ascertain why that person has died. If they find the plague marks on them then the sexton has a grave prepared and sees that their house is shut up for forty days.’
‘But there have been no cases of plague round here!’
His expression grew solemn. ‘I fear there may have been,’ he said. He squeezed my hand. ‘But go in and tell your sister what you’ve seen – she may know something further.’ He caught my eyes and smiled. ‘Try to be of good heart whatever the news is. I shall call on you with your cordial as soon as it is made.’
Chapter Six
The second week of July
‘But Lord, how everybody’s looks and discourse in the street is of Death and nothing else.’
When I went inside there was just one taper burning in our back room, and Sarah was sitting quietly on our bed, her hands folded in her lap.
‘What is it?’ I asked, alarmed, for normally she would have been busy doing something: weighing up sugar, writing the accounts or mending an apron. Now, though, she was just sitting there, her face shocked and pale.
I put down the trug and went towards her. ‘I saw two horrible old women on the road. Tom told me they were searchers of the dead. Did you see them? Where have they been?’
Sarah’s hands clenched into fists. ‘They’ve been nearby, Hannah. In the first alley off Crown and King Place.’
‘And where did they search?’
She looked down. ‘In the old house hard by the signof the Blue Goose.’
‘Dickon and Jacob’s house?’
She nodded. ‘It was the babe. Their little sister Marie —’
I gasped. ‘Not—’
Sarah swallowed hard. ‘She was taken poorly only yesterday, but her mother, Mrs Williams, told no one for fear they’d call in the authorities. She said it looked like just a rash. She thought it was a sweating sickness. But then this morning two buboes came up on the child’s body.’
‘What are they?’ I asked fearfully.
‘Hard lumps of matter. They come up in the groin, or in the neck or under the arm.’ She hesitated. ‘They are a sure sign of plague.’
‘And then what happened?’
‘Mrs Williams called for an apothecary, for they couldn’t afford a doctor. And it wasn’t Doctor da Silva, it was someone else. But before he could arrive the buboes had become so engorged with matter that the baby could not move its legs or head without screaming.’
I shuddered.
‘And although the apothecary tried to lance the buboes it was too late. They said she screamed out one last time – the most terrible sound – and then died.’
I pulled up a stool and sat next to Sarah, not saying anything for some moments, trying to absorb and understand what this meant. I hardly knew Marie, for she was barely two years old and had not been walking long enough to be out and about much with Dickon and Jacob. I’d just seen a sturdy, grubby, childstaggering about the place trying to catch hold of one of the cats. Once I’d given her a few candied rose petals and she’d gabbled in baby-talk at me and run off.
After a while I asked Sarah to tell me more of the tale.
‘The first I knew that the child had . . . that is, the first I knew what had happened was that the bells of St Dominic’s started tolling. And then Mr Newbery banged on the door here and shouted that there had been a terrible event. I went outside and everyone seemed to be at their doors, just standing there, silently. I went from house to house asking what had happened, but they were all crying and could hardly
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