The horses started to move around her, but the sound of a loud bell up ahead stopped them.
Robin looked back at the village to see a tall man walking toward them, holding up a large bell that he shook vigorously as he approached.
“Stay back!” the man warned. He wore a well-made jerkin, but his face was half covered by a piece of cloth wrapped around his mouth. “This village has been beset upon by a pox and none are safe! State your business and be on your way.” He stopped several paces behind Robin.
The soldiers, holding back their horses once more, looked to their captain.
The captain, in turn, looked between Robin and the bell-clanging man. The captain’s eyes were narrowed in distrust. “Stateyourbusiness, man, before you make demands from a captain of King Gareth’s army.”
The tall man behind Robin dipped his head in the smallest gesture of respect. “I am Alrud, the Reeve of Berwell. You are welcome here, but at your own risk. This pox starts on the skin and takes hold in the lungs. We have lost both our young and our old.”
“My good reeve,” the captain responded. “We require lodging and food for the night, and your plight does not concern us.” He gestured to another soldier who rode near him.
The other soldier was already unrolling a long parchment, holding it up for all to see. It was covered in the ink of fine, black lettering and stamped with a large wax seal in the Chendas purple. “By decree of Gareth, King of Chendas and Head of the Council of Five Kingdoms, we are due lodging and food as men who are here to aid you in your time of need.”
Robin pushed closer to the paper as though she was having trouble reading it, but her actual intent was to show off the oozing bumps on her face to as many of the soldiers as possible. She was quite proud of the mixture of flour and berry juice they had concocted to get the sores to look as disgusting as possible.
The soldier instantly pulled the decree away from her gaze and started to roll it back up.
Reeve Alrud dipped his head again. “As you wish, my captain.” He clasped his hands and stepped backward, as if to open the road for the soldiers to pass through. “Some of the houses are recently empty, except for the corpses of the deceased, that is. You can make use of those. But I am afraid our main tavern and inn are currently bursting with the sick.”
The captain turned to his men, once again lifting his arm to point toward the village.
But the soldiers within hearing distance of the current conversation were backing away.
Robin could hear the concerned shouts of “pox” and “sickness” ripple back through the group.
The captain turned back to Reeve Alrud. “Provide us, then, with food,” he demanded.
The reeve bowed his head. “Yes, captain. You are welcome to what little we have to share. It is not much...”
The reeve turned to the town behind him, where humble wooden houses sat on empty streets. Shadowed faces peered back at them through cracked doors. The reeve waved toward the town, summoning another man from one of the nearer buildings.
This man wore a baker’s apron, and his mouth was also covered by a large strip of cloth. He stepped forward, lumbering toward the gathered soldiers with a slight limp. In his arms, he carried several round loaves of thick-crusted bread.
Walking past the reeve, he held out a loaf toward the captain.
The captain rejected the loaf but waved the man toward the soldiers behind him.
Robin stumbled after the baker, grabbing a loaf of bread from his arms. She dropped the wooden plate to the ground so she could use both hands to tear the loaf in half.
“Bread is not enough to sustain us,” the captain said behind her to the reeve. “Where is your meat? We will accept cured or livestock.”
Robin bit into half of the loaf, tearing it with her teeth as though she had not eaten in days. She turned back to watch as the reeve wrung his hands together nervously, the bell he still carried clanking softly with the motion.
“That is just the thing, captain,” the reeve explained. “This pox started with our pigs and then spread to the sheep and goats. It was only when we ate their meat that we also got sick. We have no remaining animals that are not infected.”
Robin held up the other half of her loaf to the nearest mounted soldier. The berry juice from her face and hands had stained parts of the bread a light pink.
The soldier leaned away from her offering. “Get back, hag.”
A shout of disgust sounded from the group of soldiers further down the road near the baker. “This bread is contaminated!”
“Get us away from this sickly town!” One of the soldiers from further back urged his horse into the thick undergrowth on the side of the road. He rode past Robin, the captain, and the reeve, guiding his horse down the left fork of the road ahead. The fork that clearly led around the village of Berwell.
Several other soldiers followed his lead.
“We keep moving!” the captain yelled to his already retreating men, as though he was attempting to take back control.
