“You must send to Oxford for a physician to come at once,” I said.
“You are as skilled as any physician. What is to be done?”
“I am a surgeon. An illness such as has afflicted Lady Petronilla requires a physician.”
“Cicily is likewise afflicted, I am told, and a scullery maid,” Lord Gilbert said, “and three of the bishop’s tenants in the Weald are ill with a similar malady. A surgeon will serve as well as a physician, I fear.” He sighed and sank to his chair.
“Why so?”
“Since you departed for Oxford Lady Petronilla’s neck has become swollen and lumpish.”
“These lumps are purple?” I asked, hoping he might say “Nay.”
“Aye. You feared this yesterday, did you not?”
“Aye, I did,” I admitted.
“You wished to spare me, I know, so I do not hold your silence against you. But you see why I have not sent to Oxford for a physician. To what use would it be for the man to come here?”
I did not reply. We both knew the answer. Plague had returned and Lady Petronilla must, if she was in her right mind, prepare to meet the Lord Christ.
“Has she been shriven?” I asked.
“Nay. I waited for your return, to confirm my suspicion. Will you look upon Lady Petronilla and see if aught may be done for her?”
I agreed to do so, and followed Lord Gilbert as he stood from his chair and passed through a door at the end of the solar which led to a corridor. I had not before seen this private space. A door opened to the right, but Lord Gilbert passed it and entered a chamber off the end of the corridor.
Three windows, even though they were shrouded, illuminated Lady Petronilla’s chamber. Fine tapestries, which she had perhaps helped to embroider, hung from the walls. Her eyes would enjoy them no more.
Two of Lady Petronilla’s ladies attended her, and stood when they heard us approach. One of these women seemed unsteady, and put a hand to her forehead as she rose to her feet. Before them m’lady lay silent in her bed. Lord Gilbert turned to me, nodded to his motionless wife, and said, “What say you, Hugh? Is there no hope?”
Lady Petronilla’s attendants backed away when I approached the bed. The base of her neck was dark and swollen as if over-ripe plums were there beneath the skin. I had tended William of Garstang seven years past when plague wasted his body. I knew that similar purpled lumps would be found at other, more private places upon her body.
“You must send for your chaplain,” I said.
“Might she recover? I have heard that some afflicted with plague do so,” Lord Gilbert said.
I shook my head. “I have heard of this also. I have never met such a one, but I trust those physicians who say it may be so. Perhaps one of a hundred may return to health, or fewer. I cannot say.”
Lady Petronilla died three days hence. Hers was but the first death in Bampton when plague returned to England for the third time.
AFTERWORD
Petronilla Gilbert did indeed die in the late spring of 1368. The cause of her death is unknown, but it is true that plague returned to England in 1368-69, so I have taken the liberty of making that the cause of her
death.
Bampton Castle was, in the fourteenth century, one of the largest castles in England in terms of the area surrounded by the curtain wall. Little remains of the castle but for the gatehouse and a small part of the curtain wall which form a part of Ham Court, a farmhouse in private hands.
Many readers have asked about medieval remains and tourist facilities in the area. St Mary’s Church is little changed from the fourteenth century, when it was known as the Church of St Beornwald. Visitors to Bampton will enjoy staying at Wheelgate House, a B amp;B in the center of the town. Village scenes in the popular series Downton Abbey were filmed on Church View Street, and St Mary’s Church appears in several episodes.