Ahead, in the distance, she could see the turning to the tiltyard. Beyond it, Hugh Truegood and Ellen were dallying by the fountain.
A kitchen hand was walking along the path, carrying a pannier of wood, while others were leading out the king’s dogs for exercise.
As she hastened towards the path, Thomasin saw the figure with the wood slow to a halt, pause and then drop to his knees. The basket crashed beside him, spilling the logs out onto the grass, while the figure unfolded and lay upon his side. The sight was shocking, stilling her in her tracks. The dog keepers hurried over and gathered round.
Thomasin was about to hurry forward, to be of assistance, but Rafe was at her side. He held her back by the arm.
“No, wait. We don’t know what this is.”
Instead, he ran forward, halting a short distance from the crowd. One man was kneeling, talking rapidly, while the others began to back away. Thomasin strained, but was unable to hear their words. After a minute, Rafe also was backing away, heading towards her, his face registering alarm.
“What is it?”
He put his arm about her shoulder and began to lead her in the opposite direction. “Be quick, we will go round the long walk. It is the sweat.”
“What? No.”
“Yes, there is no question. That sudden collapse is typical. It is the sweat. Soon it will be all through the palace.”
“But I should not return to the queen. Oh, Ellen!” She tried to turn round and see the spot where Ellen and Hugh had just been, but they must have moved on.
“You have not been close enough for contact. You cannot be considered a risk.”
“No. But you have.”
For a moment they looked into each other’s eyes.
Rafe shook his head. “You will be well, all will be well. You must go and tell the queen. I will go straight to the king. No doubt they will move at once, to some other palace. Wait.”
She had begun to turn away.
“Wait,” he said again. “If we do not see each other again, or have the chance to say goodbye, I am sorry for it all. I wish things had been different. God be with you.”
“May God be with you too,” she replied automatically, allowing his words to sink in.
“Go, go to the queen, hurry! Lives are at stake!”
Thomasin’s hands were shaking as she ran through the corridor and up the stairs. People stepped aside to stare at her in surprise, but she could give them no clue, nothing, until Catherine had been informed. The guards admitted her without hesitation. The first chamber held Maria and little Catherine, playing chess.
“The queen?” panted Thomasin. “Where is she?”
Maria rose to her feet. “What is it? She is at prayer. What has happened?”
Thomasin stood back against the wall as Maria started towards her. “Stay, perhaps you should not. I don’t know. There is a case of the sweat. A man collapsed before me in the park, a kitchen hand. I was nowhere near, but within sight. My companion,” she added, remembering Rafe, “he went to look. But still, he was not close. Not close enough. He has gone to the king.”
Maria’s face had turned white. “You should wait here. I will tell the queen.”
Thomasin suddenly felt the tension of the moment. Her body was exhausted, her mind a fog, and she leaned back against the door.
Little Catherine Willoughby started carefully packing up the chess pieces, understanding that the game would not be resumed. “So,” she said, pertly, “it has caught up with us. All that running and you can’t outrun it.”
Thomasin was not in the mood to answer, but the girl was right. If the sweat came for you, it would take you, no matter what. She pictured Rafe, entering Henry’s chamber, breaking the very news she had just given, followed by the king’s reaction. Judging by his emotional outburst the other evening, he would not take the news well.
She listened. There was silence within.
After a while, Catherine came and stood in the doorway. She was moving stiffly and slowly, as if trying to stave off great pain.
“This is true? You saw the man fall?”
