Infinite 01 - Infinite Sacrifice

having a wife, poor woman.
    Emeline goes to work stripping the Winchester goose, found to be named Gussalen. She holds up Gussalen’s discarded burlap kirtle, which is stained with blood from backside leakage, one of the worst symptoms of the plague. Gussalen keels to one side as we’re rinsing the dirt off, and we know to get her to a bed at once.
    We lay her down as she begins mumbling, “I did everything I was supposed to.”
    “Yes, you are fine.” I pull the wool over her.
    “No!” she shouts, violently yanking the blanket back down. “I crouched at the latrines, wafting the stinking vapors over me. They said that I would build resistance to the scourge.” She shakes her head deliriously.
    I’ve heard that many people are seeing nuns like Emeline and Malkyn who are surrounded by plague and think that instead of hiding from the pestilence, they would cover themselves in it. I pick up a ladle of water and begin pouring it into her blue-toned mouth, and she spits the water out in my face.
    “What is that? Are you trying to kill me? I need ale. Get me an ale!” Her front teeth are missing. I throw the ladle back in the bucket and try to mop the water off my face. “Ale is the thing that keeps the plague away. The more ale and food you consume, the better your health. I need an ale!” Her body goes rigid as she screams this.
    I walk away. I thought she was difficult the first night, but when her fever takes hold, she tests the whole chapel’s nerves. Her screams and groans rise to such a volume that the other sick beg us to remove her.
    Simon comes and carries her out into the small enclosure at the farthest end of the chapel, but we can still hear her screaming, “There is no God! Where is God? Here we are in His house and we all still perish!”
    Then she laughs, throwing her head back, braying. When she draws her last breath, all notice because it is finally quiet. The dying all clap.
    ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
    As Emeline and I are boiling the rags no longer needed by Gussalen, we see that a strange man has tiptoed into the chicken coop. Emeline runs to notify Malkyn, who comes out brandishing a pitchfork. We stand behind her as she jumps out at the man wearing a strange hat and holding three eggs he gathered from our roost. Seeing the armed Mother Superior, he throws down the eggs, puts his arms up, and pleads, “Please, Sisters, I beg you, forgive me!”
    “If you are hungry, why not come into our abbey and ask for a meal?” She brings down her fork. He lowers his hands by his side and drops to the ground to try to salvage the shattered eggs. “Forget the spoiled eggs. Follow us to share our supper.”
    On the way back, Emeline whispers to me, “He is a Jew.”
    Surprised, I ask, “How do you know?”
    “The hat he is wearing is a Judenhut, a Jewish hat.”
    Supper is served on the stone table beside the garden. Someone long ago had moved a massive rock between two long narrow stones, perfect for dining outdoors. We all say grace while the man hangs his head respectfully in silence during our prayers. When Emeline hands him a large bowl of vegetable soup with rye bread, he bows his head in thanks.
    “My name is Daniel. I have fled the persecution in France,” he says as if it’s a confession.
    Malkyn only nods her head slightly.
    “I am a Jew,” he emphasizes.
    Still Malkyn nods. Daniel looks shocked by this casual acceptance.
    “How are things in France?” she asks carefully.
    He shakes his head. “Terrible.”
    Malkyn changes the subject. “How do you make your living?”
    “Before I was chased out”—he sucks in a belch—“—excuse me, Sisters, I was a barber surgeon.”
    “How blessed for us!” She looks up again in direct communication with God. “We are struggling to care for the needy and sick, and in these times need every hand we can acquire.”
    He looks surprised. “You want a Jew to assist you in an abbey ?”
    “There is no religious prerequisite for caring for the dying and salvaging life.” He looks amazed. “We can give you food and lodging in return.”
    He looks out past the abbey to the empty unforgiving streets and quickly says, “I would be a fool to turn down that generous offer.”
    Malkyn shows him to a side barn that would serve as his quarters while he’s with us. He bows three times to her as she walks away.
    The next morning, I’m slapping away fleas from my ankles and off the patients when Daniel comes up and says, “I