Infinite 01 - Infinite Sacrifice

back up on his cart. “No wonder your husband gave you to the nuns.” He drives off.
    I’m always relieved when he leaves but know all too well he’ll be back tomorrow to ferry more to Smithfield’s plague pits.

Chapter 6
    That day Malkyn speaks of the recent Papal Bull that has been granted in these extraordinary times of the Great Mortality.
    She says to us at breakfast, “His Holiness has purchased new cemeteries and consecrated the grounds to help lessen the need for the plague pits. Due to the great number of priests dying from the plague, the Pope has granted blanket absolution.” She turns to me and explains, “Now, anyone can give the last rites. So ladies, I will instruct you. I disagree with the Holy Father’s next grant.” She shakes her head. “He has waived the autopsy ban so that doctors can learn more about the pestilence. Lastly, there are those in other countries that are blaming the pestilence on the Jews in their midst. The Pope has condemned all attacks on them.”
    She makes the sign of the cross, and we all continue to care for the ever-increasing sea of sick.
    There is barely any room between each rag heap. I give water to a young maiden with a bubo on her neck so large that it contorts her head to the side. She whimpers in pain. I look up to see Simon standing there. He bends down to hold her hand.
    “What is your name, maiden?”
    “Helena,” the redhead answers weakly. “I think I need to be sick.”
    Simon reaches for the water bucket next to me and holds her up to purge. Vomiting is another torturous side effect of the disease. Sometimes victims will vomit for days. I watch him as he dabs her mouth with a rag and lays her back down gently.
    She tries to speak, and Simon puts his finger up to her lips to rest, but she continues, “You can’t let those wretched rustics come and throw my body in a pile with no feeling!” Her hazel eyes spin wildly. “Then the pigs come out at night, advancing upon the newly dug graves to feast on our corpses!”
    “Calm now, lady, you have nothing to fear. His Holiness himself has purchased consecrated ground to make sure every last one has a dignified burial, free from vandals. Never you think of that anyway; the soul is granted eternal life, and the body returns to ash.”
    She closes her eyes and begins to breathe easier. I am convinced he is sent directly from God to ease all suffering. I can think of no one else in whose arms I would want to die. Malkyn begins to sing, Languisco e Moro , to ease the fears and give a respite of peace from our desperate situation. Oliver and Rowan find me and slip under my arms to listen to her angelic song. There is no other place I’d rather be.
    That morning I cringe as I see Ulric coming down the lane. It’s a sad morning, since Helena is one of the ten shrouded bodies waiting for transport. I hear him singing something jovially, and I can make out the words as he draws closer.
    “Ring-a-ring o’rosies, A pocket full of posies, A-tishoo! A-tishoo! We all fall down!”
    My face draws up in scorn as I realize what he’s making light of, and he notices. “My sweet blossom doesn’t like my little ditty?”
    I can’t hide my disgust. “You are vile.”
    “It’s a children’s song! Little wenchels are singing it all around the streets of London.” He laughs. “It really stays in your head.” He leaps off. “I have a special treat for you!” He goes behind his cart and pulls out an incredibly sick-looking woman from the death-pale lot. “A bubo-covered Winchester goose!”
    He laughs and explains, “Don’t you ever get out! That’s another name for the loose wagtails—”
    I put my hand up to stop him and help her into the abbey, and when I come back out see Helena thrown with her bottom up in the air on top of the heap, her beautiful red hair spilling out over the back of the cart.
    “Is there any way you could come here after your first run, when your cart has more room in it?” I ask as I cover her body with her shroud.
    “First run! This here’s my fourth for the day!” My mouth drops in surprise. “You nuns are working miracles in there, only losing five to ten a day. Elsewhere one out of every two people is dropping. Even on a good day, London loses a small village to the pestilence.” He throws another body next to Helena. “If I ever get this thing, I’ve told my wife to bring me here so my little burgundy hen can nurse me back to health.”
    I can’t imagine him