A Plague of Sinners Read Online Free PDF

sprawling. ‘King’s man.’ The crowd parted, yielding reluctantly to the hard authority they heard in his voice. I followed close behind.
    As we emerged from the steaming rabble three muskets rose to point at Dowling and one at me. Dowling brandished his credentials. ‘King’s men heading north up the King’s road at King’s request.’
    A sentry stepped forwards, thick linen shirt hanging down above rough, loose trousers. His nose was packed with herbs, sage it appeared, which enjoyed no protective qualities I knewof. His cheeks were stuffed with something else besides. He frowned, cheeks swollen like an angry mouse.
    ‘Turn about and go back to London,’ he mumbled.
    ‘We have business in these parts,’ Dowling replied.
    He raised his rusty weapon. ‘Not today you don’t.’
    ‘We are King’s agents and you cannot deny us access to the King’s highway.’
    He scratched his head and looked back at his three colleagues. Then he glared at us. ‘Show us evidence you are King’s agents.’
    Dowling held out both our certificates of health and Arlington’s seal.
    The sentry pointed at Dowling with the tip of his stick. ‘You read it.’
    Dowling read the flowery text out loud and showed our man the seals up close.
    The man squinted through keen brown eyes. ‘How do we know you don’t carry the plague with you?’
    ‘Sir, we have the King’s authority and are protected from the plague by his holy influence,’ Dowling answered in all seriousness.
    The man surveyed the crowd behind us. ‘You have horses?’
    ‘We have a cart.’
    ‘What is in your cart?’
    ‘The body of Thomas Wharton, Earl of St Albans.’
    The sentry leapt back as though he stood on a snake. ‘He died of plague?’
    ‘No,’ Dowling assured him. ‘He died of a broken neck. There are no tokens nor buboes upon him, nor any sign of the plague. You may look for yourself.’
    ‘Fetch your cart,’ the sentry directed.
    Dowling nodded obediently and returned to the wagon while I waited at the turnpike. Our horse was large and steadfast, not averse to treading on a few feet if required. Rather like Dowling.
    The sentry licked his lips, eyeing the throng. He pulled the gate open and stood waving his arms frantically until we were through. The crowd surged behind us and another shot rang out. Three sentries leapt up onto our cart and fired into the middle of the melee while their comrades succeeded in closing the gate.
    ‘Show me this body,’ our sentry demanded, lips tight, body taut.
    ‘Have you seen the body of a man hanged by the neck?’ Dowling climbed over to the back of the cart. ‘It is a sight that stays with most men longer then they would wish.’
    ‘Show me,’ the man commanded.
    Dowling prised open the box, carefully loosened the wrappings about the corpse, then slid back the coverings from Wharton’s face. It seemed grey now. It had been white before we set off, but the ceruse and cochineal had rubbed off during the ride. The puffiness about the eyes had subsided, leaving big black patches about empty holes. The mouth hung open again, jaw bouncing loose about the body’s chest.
    The sentry put his hand over his eyes. ‘I did not ask to see the head,’ he groaned. ‘I would see the armpits and the groin for buboes, the chest for tokens.’
    Dowling obliged without further commentary. The sentry nodded weakly, easily convinced the body was clean.
     
    We enjoyed easier passage at the turnpikes further north, since most without credentials were turned back at Whetstone. Byearly afternoon we were through St Albans. I was astounded to see two doors with red crosses on Sopwell Lane, for I didn’t realise the plague penetrated so far so fast.
    We kept riding, conscious of the stares of those about us, angry and suspicious. How things changed. London was the lifeblood of this town, the destination for those who stopped to rest here. Not now.
    The Earl’s Old Palace was located but a mile in the direction of Harpenden.