We stared at the man, almost unable to take in the news of this further horror.
Then Edmond swore, soft and foul, before apologising to me. ‘Sweet Jesu, Pengraic, the plague? Now? In the middle of winter. How can this be? No plague flourishes during winter! Isolated cases, yes, but ravaging outbreaks … No!
‘Man,’ he said to the squire, ‘have you word of the numbers who have died?’
‘Many hundreds, sire,’ said the squire. ‘My lord of Summersete only received word of this two days ago, and I have ridden hard to get this intelligence to you in London.’
‘It has likely been brewing many months,’ Raife said, his voice soft. ‘We know from its last outbreak that it can live within a community for many weeks, even months, before it begins to show its vicious claws. By that time, by the time we know of its presence, then it is too late, for hundreds have been infected.’
‘Perhaps you brought it with you,’ Edmond said, his voice hard, ‘on your journey from Pengraic.’
‘I can assure you not,’ Raife said. ‘Pengraic was quite free of the plague for months before we left.’
Edmond waved a hand in apology. ‘I am sorry for the slur, Pengraic. Dear God, what have I done that my realm must be wracked with so many disasters!’ He swore again, this time omitting any apology to me. ‘I will call a council meeting for the morrow, Pengraic. You will attend.’
He rose, handing his once more empty cup to me, gave me an unreadable look, and then was clattering down the stairs and calling for his horse.
Chapter Nine
When the morrow arrived, it was to discover that Edmond wanted me to attend the council meeting as well. He sent word that Hugh of Argentine, the newly installed Master of the Temple, would be attending, along with Fulke d’Ecouis, and that the two Templars wanted me there.
‘And so also,’ said Roger de Douai, who had brought the news, ‘Edmond wants you there, my lady. If there is to be further charge against you, then it shall need to be made to your face.’
I looked at Raife in despair. ‘What can they want of me?’ I said.
‘I would not worry overmuch, my lady,’ de Douai said. ‘Edmond has said he also wants the maille gauntlet used in your ordeal to be placed in the very centre of the table. As a reminder.’
‘I am tired of being blamed for all that is wrong in this world,’ I muttered.
Raife put a hand on my shoulder, and addressed de Douai. ‘I would be grateful, de Douai, if you could murmur in the master’s ear that I will personally cut off his balls if he lays a single accusation at my wife’s feet or threatens her in any way.’
‘I will so do,’ said de Douai with a small smile.
Edmond held his council in the great hall at the top of the Conqueror’s Tower. A large trestle table had been set up near one of the fireplaces, then covered in fine linens, and then topped with ewers of wine and cups as well as platters of breads, dried fruits and cheeses. Edmond’s council, Raife told me on the ride to the Tower, was usually composed of his leading nobles, top officials and the high ecclesiastics, but today, well, it would be composed of whoever could be there at such short notice, or who hadn’t fallen into the ice among the eight thousand.
As we walked into the great hall, it was to see that a goodly number had managed to be here. The Bishop of Wincestre, together with Tedbald du Bec, the Archbishop of Cantuaberie. The two men stood well apart, their hatred of each other known to all. The bishopric of London was vacant, awaiting Edmond to name a successor to the bishop who had just died, so his place was filled by Gervase de Blois, the abbot of Westminster.
The Constable of the Tower was present, as was the castellan of Baynard Castle, Geoffrey de Mandeville, and the Earl of Exsessa, along with the earls of Pembroke, Lincolie, Chestre among others. There were also several aldermen from London, as well as the high officials from Edmond’s household and Edmond’s second son, Prince Richard, who was some sixteen or seventeen years of age.
The two Templars, Hugh of Argentine and Fulke d’Ecouis, were here also. Edmond entered from the archway leading into his privy chamber at the same time as Raife and I came through the door from the gallery, and after he greeted us, he drew us aside for a quiet word.
‘My lady,’ he said to me, ‘do not be afraid. Hugh reassures me that he has no accusation against you.’
‘Then why does he want me here, my lord?’
‘Who knows? But I am glad enough of your presence, Maeb, not merely because the very sight of you soothes my eyes, but because you have lived through the plague whereas most of the men in this chamber have not, and your insights may be of use to me.’
He turned to stride over to the chair placed at the top of the table.
‘My lords, we begin,’ he said, and as he sat so everyone in the chamber took their places at the table. I sat with Raife close to the head of the table, the two Templars about halfway down the other side.
Many of those present shot me curious glances as they sat, but no one spoke up to ask the reason for my presence.
The council began with reports from the aldermen present about the current state of repairs, rebuilding (such as had been started) and the people of London. While most of the burned buildings had been pulled down and the sites cleared, rebuilding would take months if not years, and could not begin properly until the winter snows and rains were past.
As for the bridge — that would take at least a year of construction to have a viable structure in place.
Most everyone who had lost their homes had been re-housed. The bigger dilemma was replacing so many of the citizens, and their skills, who had been lost in the river. That, one alderman remarked glumly, would take years, and would affect the rebuilding programme within the city, trading and the city revenues due to the king.
Then to the plague. The intelligence that it had reignited and appeared to be headed directly for London was dismal news, particularly following so close on the heels of the twin tragedies of river and fire. Edmond discussed briefly with the council what could be done to prepare the city, and asked me to add any insights I might have to the council about the table.
‘Only, my lord king,’ I said, ‘that those suffering be moved away from their own homes into hospitals or buildings made of stone. Our priest, Owain, offered the use of Pengraic’s chapel to hold the dying, that their mortal scorching might not devastate the entire castle. From my own observation, so much of London’s buildings are wooden, and …’
‘As we have seen,’ Edmond concluded dryly, ‘fire tends to spread rapidly.’ He spoke to the aldermen, asking them to identify and prepare stone buildings now, whether they be churches or warehouses, to take in the sick and dying.
‘I can offer my house,’ said Raife. ‘Both it and its outbuildings are of stone, and close enough to Holy Trinity Priory that the brothers might use it as an extension of their own hospital.’
‘Then you must accept my hospitality here,’ said Edmond, and Raife nodded.
I admit I breathed a small sigh of relief. I did not wish to be trapped within the crowded city if plague broke out. The Tower, somehow, was more comforting.
‘My lord king,’ said Hugh of Argentine, ‘if I may speak? What I need to say intimately concerns the plague.’
Edmond inclined his head.
‘Before I speak, I need to seek assurances from all present, to be spoken as if they stood before God himself, that no word I utter is to be spread beyond the chamber walls. My lord king, if I might request that we can serve our own wine from this point?’
Edmond nodded and waved the servants away.
Hugh then asked each of us in turn to agree not to spread gossip of what we heard, and we agreed solemnly.
Several of the earls and all the clergy looked irritated, however, and I imagined they were annoyed not only by the intrusion of the Templars into this privy council, but also Hugh’s dramatic insistence on oath-taking.
Once we were done, Hugh began speaking in a deceptively calm and moderate voice.
‘My lord king, my lords of soul and land, my lady. What I speak of now is gathered from knowledge contained within the innermost circle of the Templars, as those secrets conferred to us by the Pope. It is terrifying, and I beg you to keep your wits sound while I relate it.