Princess of the Black Death | ✔️

Chapter XXXVII

Joan requested the next morning to walk around the castle grounds. She thought to move around as possible before she was stuck back in a carriage for the next month or so. Permission was granted as long as she stayed within the stone wall, there was no need for her to have guard. Her maid accompanied her to stroll the large estate grounds.

She didn't want to talk, so they silently walked along the perimeter. Her heartbeat increased, and her blood started to pump through her. Usually being outdoors lifted her spirits, but she couldn't put her finger on why a summer day in the south of France wasn't a welcome sight.

Everything outside had a dull pallor. The grass hadn't grown in but in sparse patches, and most of the grounds was exposed soil. No birds sang or flew through the air inland. Even the sky was grey.

As they neared the gate at the entrance, it was ajar. Joan peaked out. No one was in view down the path towards the city. "Let's go into town," Joan said.

"We aren't allowed," her maid said.

"Don't be such a poltroon," Joan said. It wasn't her nature to break rules, but she suddenly wanted to talk to any towns person just to see if the whole town was amiss. Perhaps the Bordeaux mayor was indeed a lunatic. But perhaps not. "Just a brief stroll along the path. We'll be back in no time, and no one will even see that we are gone. I must see something." Her maid put up no more objection and silently followed behind.

It took passing a few darkened houses before they saw any sign of life. A cat meowed from an alley. Joan reached down to pet it, and the cat pushed up against her skirt.

"Sorry, pussycat, I have no food," Joan said. The cat bolted without warning before she looked up and jumped.

John had followed them. "Princess, it's not safe to wander off without guard," he said.

"Oh, there's no one even about," Joan said.

"Let's head back," John said. He touched her arm.

Realising they probably should, Joan agreed to head back to the castle. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but she saw no one to spark an idea.

"How quickly did you follow me?" Joan asked him.

"It is my duty to watch over you," he said, looking right into her.

"Then you are true to your word."

"I can take your hand to steady you on the cobblestones," he offered.

Joan held out her hand for him. "If you wish. I haven't lost my footing yet." Joan looked over at her maid, who frowned, but Joan resolved that hand holding made sense for the situation. "You are very quick on your feet to have caught up with us."

"You are quick on your feet yourself, my lady," John said. "I could hardly keep up with your pace when you know where you're going."

They turned around to return, and a dark-haired girl around their age was throwing a bucket of refuse in the alley. She didn't look over at them.

"You there, girl," Joan said in French. The girl jumped when she heard them and turned to leave as Joan said, "please, mademoiselle, wait. What is going on in this town? I am an English princess. I demand to know what is wrong. Where is everyone?"

"Oh!" the girl bowed down. She was in dusty, torn clothes and wore no shoes. "I beg your pardon, your highness, but there is grave sickness about. Please, stay back. It runs through town. Nearly half of everyone are dead! We dare not leave our houses unless necessary, so it doesn't catch our breaths. The sickness is quick and painful to everyone who contracts it. It spares no one."

"What happens? How does it spread?" Joan demanded.

"No one knows how it spreads. It just spread so quickly in the air, and anyone can breathe bad air. The sick get chills, develop pus-filled lumps on their body, their fingertips turn black, they vomit blood. They die within a week of the signs!" the girl cried out. "Young and old! Even the nobles have died from it. A poisonous miasma soaks the air! A devil's cloud is over everyone. We are cursed. It is not just Bordeaux. It is all over France, and it is relentless."

Joan whitened. "Oh, how awful. Thank you for the information, miss." Joan looked at John who shook his head. "Please go back to your family. We will trouble you no more."

The girl ran off without hesitation. The English trio didn't say anything to each other and just started walking back to the castle. Finally, John said, "my father is not concerned. He has been stationed in France for many years."

"Aye," Joan said, thinking of the wretch's face. Poor girl. She seemed anguished much like the town mayor, and they had no reason to mislead. Joan had seen many illnesses and had some herself. She never saw anyone so panicked as the people she had met in Bordeaux. "Maybe it would be best for us to leave Bordeaux in a timely manner."

"I will talk to my father about it," John promised.

John did talk to Robert once they were back, who informed him that several of the soldiers who were escorting them into town took ill to bed.

"They drank much last night, but in a day or so, they will be better, and we can be on our way," the Baron said.

Joan was less confident.

"We cannot leave until most of our party is recovered," Robert said.

"Perhaps some of us should head to straight Bayonne which may have healthier air and less risk," John said.

Robert laughed. "Listen to you two. There is nothing to worry about. I saw how much the soldiers partook in the local wine. Bordeaux is famous for its wine. The soldiers will be back to normal once their heads recover, so let us wait a day to make a decision."

One final glance passed between John and Joan, but there was nothing more they could say.

She retired to her room. She wanted to leave Bordeaux as soon as possible, leave behind rumours of sickness, and embrace her whatever her future held. She was surrounded by high walls and a hundred soldiers, and she felt less safe than she ever had.