Infinite 01 - Infinite Sacrifice

farthest pier at the same time the men from the launches are landing, white-faced and soaking wet.
    Hadrian marches up to them and demands, “What is it you have seen?”
    One toothless, shaggy-bearded mariner barks back, “They’re all dead, they are! Every last one of them! All strewn across the deck, some burst open, guts all spilling out!”
    The others are silent.
    “I am a surgeon. I need to know exactly what you saw to diagnose what pestilence they are carrying.”
    “Guts spilling out is what I’d seen! Jumped off before I could feel for fever!”
    His mates start laughing at this. Hadrian gives the man a stern stare.
    “Aaagh,” the mariner says as he wrings out his cap. “I saw one mate had a giant lump on his neck.”
    “Any black splotches or blood around the mouth?”
    “Look, love to gab with you, but we have to go tell the dock master about this here grounded ghost ship.” They walk away.
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    Hadrian stops at a fellow surgeon’s house on our way back home. We are welcomed in for an early dinner. The table is amply covered with breads, meats, and fruits. The mistress of the house sits at the table, feeding her lapdog pieces of ham under the table.
    “The sea urchin said the bodies had been split open. I doubt it was a symptom of the disease, probably the result of bloated bodies in the sun hitting the mast as the decks rolled,” Hadrian explains as I wonder how they could talk of such things while stuffing their faces.
    Our host asks, “What other symptoms were observed?”
    They’re talking only to each other; women are not a part of men’s conversations.
    “The urchin only glanced around the deck and fled. However, he did say he noticed a lump on one of the doomed sailor’s necks.”
    “A bubo.” The older doctor strokes his beard at this and concludes, “A strong indicator of the Great Mortality.”
    Hadrian nods. “Yes, I agree.”
    “Do you think there are any survivors?” Our host is furiously cutting his steak like he is trying to start a fire, causing the whole table to shake.
    Hadrian scoffs. “I doubt they gave much effort in checking, but even if there were, London would not take them in.”
    “Well, London has been watching for this for a year. They all thought it wouldn’t come to us. It has ravaged Italy and France, and now the plague is here.”
    “You think London has been exposed from these few men boarding the vessel for a moment?” Hadrian drops his fork and knife and suddenly looks concerned.
    “That, and I imagine the south wind blowing from the harbor stirring the corrupt vapors from those plague bodies and carrying the Black Death to each and every one of us who breathes.” He snaps for a servant, who comes quickly to his side. “Close all the windows facing the south side. From now on, only the pure air from the north is allowed in this house!”
    Hadrian gives me a look, and I can tell he is anxious to get home to do the same.
    “You do know it is all due to the unfavorable planetary alignment?” A grave look takes hold of our host’s face as he says this.
    Hadrian nods somberly. “The major conjunction of Mars, Saturn, and Jupiter in Aquarius is an extraordinary event — an ominous event portending pestilence and great death.”
    “Very ominous indeed!” the doctor exclaims as he tears a huge piece off a drumstick and gobbles it down.
    “If in fact the plague has its grips on London, how should we act?” Hadrian asks.
    “Depends on how much gold the good Lord or Lady will give you!” He laughs so hard at his own joke, he chokes on the wine he is drinking, causing it to sputter out his thin-lipped mouth.
    “You think it unwise to treat lowly classes, then?”
    He sputters for some time and, once recovered, wipes his mouth with his sleeve. “It all depends what price you put on your own life. I have heard many of the leading doctors in Paris and Rome have all been killed simply for talking with infected patients.”
    “How can we service the public if we are at risk by being in their very presence?”
    “I tell you, Hadrian, if this plague takes hold in London, I will run and run fast. And you and your lovely wife should heed my advice too.”
    I look up to see the doctor giving me a tight smile with food in his beard.
    Hadrian is quiet all the way home, as usual. Dusk has set in, and the church bells are ringing everyone to bed. Peasant children run through the street, chasing each other with