Read Online On My Lady's Honor (All for one, and one for all) by Kate Silver - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kate Silver
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had been spared.”
“Sophie was the first to fall sick. She brought the plague into the household.” Gerard’s eyes were glistening with tears and his voice sounded choked. “One by one, everyone fell sick after her. One by one, everyone died. Everyone. My mother. My father. Everyone. My twin was the last to die.”
Lamotte felt his words pierce his heart. No wonder Gerard had lost his light heart and friendly spirit. “I had not known. I am sorry to hear it.”
Gerard stared at the ground, his head between his knees. He spoke quickly, as if the words were burning him. “I buried them all in a pit. I tossed the bodies in one after another until the pit was full and I covered it over with earth.” Tears were running down his face and dripping into the dirt as he spoke. “They all died. All of them. Even the person I had thought to marry.”
What could he say? Words were inadequate to express his pity for his friend or his sympathy for the horrors he had suffered. “I tried to come to help you.”
Gerard raised his head again, wiped his eyes on his sleeve and made a visible effort to regain control of himself. “Better men than you are afraid of the plague.”
“The plague did not stop me.” Lamotte crouched down beside his old friend and pulled open his shirt to reveal a jagged scar that ran from his breastbone to near his waist. The scar tissue was red and angry, the edges knitted together in a vicious welt “That did.”
Sophie felt sick to her stomach as she looked at the scar. It made the cut she had given him on his arm look like the merest scratch of a wayward bramble. His side looked as though it had been ripped open by a pack of wolves. Certainly no sword would leave such a mess. She reached out and touched the ribbed edges with a gentle fingertip. “What did that to you?”
“A pitchfork.”
She wiped her dirty sleeve across her face. She knew that men and soldiers did not cry, but she had not been able to stop the tears from coming. She had kept her pain bottled up inside her for so long that she had not been able to stop it from flooding out in a torrent when she opened the lid just the smallest bit to let a stranger get a glimpse of it. “How?”
“The roads to the Camargue were blocked and the villagers would allow none through – either in or out. They feared the spread of the plague far too much. I knew how you loved your sister, and I had medicines with me that the King’s physician swore were a guaranteed remedy against the plague.
Tears filled Sophie’s eyes anew as she thought of her brother’s death and how easily it could have been prevented, if only things had turned out differently. “You tried to bring them to me?”
“I was stopped by a mob as I approached Provence. They would not listen to my pleas to be allowed to pass through. Why was I traveling, they demanded. What was I running from? What sickness had God struck me with? They would not believe that I had come from a place of no sickness. They would not believe that any medicine made by men would be proof against the plague.
“They were mad with fear; I could not reason with them. I tried to ride past them, but there were too many of them. They grabbed hold of me and dragged me off my horse.” He gave a wry smile. “I am lucky to be alive at all. I thought I was a dead man.”
“You recovered well.” Try as she might, she could not keep the distress out of her voice. Did he know how lucky he was to have lived when so many others had died?
“A priest found me and took me in to care for me. Despite his care, the wound went bad and I was sick with the fever most of the winter. Even in my moments of lucidity, I could not rise from my bed. I tried to find a messenger who would bring the medicines to your sister, but they thought I was raving or mad
“Sophie was the first to fall sick. She brought the plague into the household.” Gerard’s eyes were glistening with tears and his voice sounded choked. “One by one, everyone fell sick after her. One by one, everyone died. Everyone. My mother. My father. Everyone. My twin was the last to die.”
Lamotte felt his words pierce his heart. No wonder Gerard had lost his light heart and friendly spirit. “I had not known. I am sorry to hear it.”
Gerard stared at the ground, his head between his knees. He spoke quickly, as if the words were burning him. “I buried them all in a pit. I tossed the bodies in one after another until the pit was full and I covered it over with earth.” Tears were running down his face and dripping into the dirt as he spoke. “They all died. All of them. Even the person I had thought to marry.”
What could he say? Words were inadequate to express his pity for his friend or his sympathy for the horrors he had suffered. “I tried to come to help you.”
Gerard raised his head again, wiped his eyes on his sleeve and made a visible effort to regain control of himself. “Better men than you are afraid of the plague.”
“The plague did not stop me.” Lamotte crouched down beside his old friend and pulled open his shirt to reveal a jagged scar that ran from his breastbone to near his waist. The scar tissue was red and angry, the edges knitted together in a vicious welt “That did.”
Sophie felt sick to her stomach as she looked at the scar. It made the cut she had given him on his arm look like the merest scratch of a wayward bramble. His side looked as though it had been ripped open by a pack of wolves. Certainly no sword would leave such a mess. She reached out and touched the ribbed edges with a gentle fingertip. “What did that to you?”
“A pitchfork.”
She wiped her dirty sleeve across her face. She knew that men and soldiers did not cry, but she had not been able to stop the tears from coming. She had kept her pain bottled up inside her for so long that she had not been able to stop it from flooding out in a torrent when she opened the lid just the smallest bit to let a stranger get a glimpse of it. “How?”
“The roads to the Camargue were blocked and the villagers would allow none through – either in or out. They feared the spread of the plague far too much. I knew how you loved your sister, and I had medicines with me that the King’s physician swore were a guaranteed remedy against the plague.
Tears filled Sophie’s eyes anew as she thought of her brother’s death and how easily it could have been prevented, if only things had turned out differently. “You tried to bring them to me?”
“I was stopped by a mob as I approached Provence. They would not listen to my pleas to be allowed to pass through. Why was I traveling, they demanded. What was I running from? What sickness had God struck me with? They would not believe that I had come from a place of no sickness. They would not believe that any medicine made by men would be proof against the plague.
“They were mad with fear; I could not reason with them. I tried to ride past them, but there were too many of them. They grabbed hold of me and dragged me off my horse.” He gave a wry smile. “I am lucky to be alive at all. I thought I was a dead man.”
“You recovered well.” Try as she might, she could not keep the distress out of her voice. Did he know how lucky he was to have lived when so many others had died?
“A priest found me and took me in to care for me. Despite his care, the wound went bad and I was sick with the fever most of the winter. Even in my moments of lucidity, I could not rise from my bed. I tried to find a messenger who would bring the medicines to your sister, but they thought I was raving or mad
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