“Arthur II had always been of poor constitution, Bass; only my lavish use of the dwindling supply of longevity boosters had kept him alive on several occasions during his reign. By
the time I had made certain he would survive his bout of Plague, I was down to less than two dozen capsules.
“When the Plague had at last run its course in both England and Ireland and matters were again approaching normalcy, Emmett made his only other visit to England. All of his family, save only one grandson, had died of the disease and his grief was clear to read when he once more came to me in York.
“Of course, the manner of our meeting was somewhat different, that time. He still was a wealthy Irish nobleman, true enough, but I was become the most high and most powerful churchman in all of England, with a court large as that of any earl, so it required several days and extensive palm grease to get him an audience; nor had I, in the press of my new duties, any idea he was in England until he was before me.
“Physically, he was unchanged, but woe had carved deep lines in his face, his green eyes were filled with a soul-deep sadness, and seldom did smile or laugh bring up the corners of his mouth.
“Immediately we were alone, he leaned forward and asked in intense tones, ‘Ken, hoo mony capsules hae ye left?’
” ‘About twenty,’ I sighed.
“His eyes went a little wild, then, and he grasped my arm so hard that my flesh bore blue fingermarks for a week after. ‘Nay, not wf ye, mon, I mean in all?’
“That’s what I mean, too, Emmett. I have a total of twenty-two capsules left me.’
‘The blood drained from his face and the strength from his body; he sank back in his chair, even more woebegone than before. In a hushed whisper, he said, ‘Och, God and His Saints help us both, then, auld friend, for we be doomed tae die far afore ooor time. What hoppened tae y’r am?”
“I used them, a few here and a few there, to keep old Hal and then King Arthur alive, Emmett; I could have done no less. But what of you? You had nearly three hundred, — did I.”
“He cracked the knuckles of his big, scarred hands, a deep sigh, and then told the tale. The Plague first hold in Waterford, but it spread like tae fire through heather, and afore ony could prepare or hardly pray, most the Court at Tara lay dead or dying. When it’s sairtain-sur-was that the Pest was abroad w’in me ain hoosehold, I g o’er me plans tae move me folk tae my lodge in the Wicklow Mountains; instead, I took me tae horse wi’ a small small guard and rode tae Fora, straight, for I’d me ain capsules hid in the false botthom o’ a treasure casket an’ under th’ keepin’ o’ the gude fithers, there.
” ‘Early on in the onset o’ the Plague, Bishop Padraigh, at Kells, had ordered ony church properties strucken w’ the Pest be burnt. And me and me men rode tae Fora ainly tae find roofless an’ smoke-blackened walls fu’ o’ ashes. An’ nae any single trace o’ me casket, though we sifted ash days on end. It seemed that th’ thrice-doomed looters had been there afore us an’ fled God alane knew whence.
” ‘And when, at last, I rid intae me courtyard at Tara, nane were left tae e’en greet me, the Pest had ta’en them a’—me new, young, bonny thaird wife and a’ her bairns, a’ me get ain me ither twa wives, an’ a’ their get an’ beyont. Only a few o’ the meaner sorts o’ sairvants were spared, they an’ me grandson, Tim. He had been o’er sea in Great Ireland, wherein the Pest had ne’er took holt.
” Tor a lang year, I prayed daily and nightly for a war, that I might fling myseP intae the forefront o’ battle, in a bear’s ‘sark an’ wi’ only a club. But nae ane o’ the kindgoms had been spared; land lay open for th’ mere takin’ an’ nane livin’ tae fight for it or ony else. So, since I couldnae die in honor an’ put me pair soul at peace, I turned back tae the world.