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The Physician's Tale - Hardcover

Buch 3 von 3: The Plague Tales

Benson, Ann

 
9780385335058: The Physician's Tale
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 0385335059 ISBN 13: 9780385335058
Verlag: Delacorte Pr, 2006

Inhaltsangabe

Spanning two worlds caught in the midst of a horrific crisis, a new novel by the author of The Plague Tales ranges from a fourteenth-century Europe devastated by the Black Death to a near future world in which survivors of another deadly plague struggle to rebuild the broken bonds of civilization. 20,000 first printing.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Ann Benson lives in Connecticut with her husband and is the mother of two grown daughters. She is also the author of the acclaimed novels The Plague Tales, The Burning Road, and Thief of Souls.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter One



In the time of pestis secunda, Alejandro Canches knew too well the dread that came with a sharp knock, so he tapped gently on the door of William and Emily Cooper. Emily opened it, her eyes red and wet.

She nodded gravely and tucked a stray strand of hair into her white cap. “I have sat with him all night,” she said when she saw the physician on her doorstep. “He struggles, but he holds on. Come in, see for yourself.”

“His resistance is remarkable,” Alejandro said as he entered. William Cooper had long since traversed the threshold over which one passes to reach the death stage of plague, but he was clinging ferociously to the last few bits of his life.

The woman led him by candlelight to the bedside. The cooper’s face was all Alejandro could see; everything else was covered. The sweat that his wife had so dutifully wiped away during the night had accumulated anew in her brief absence, and in the candlelight, the sheen of fever was visible on Cooper’s forehead. The man’s eyes were closed and did not open, even on hearing a voice.

Alejandro covered his nose against the putrid plague smell and put his head to the man’s chest. The heartbeat, though faint, was still surprisingly steady. He palpated the swellings in the man’s neck and armpits with his fingers. Though he was gentle, Cooper moaned in pain.

“Sorry,” Alejandro whispered. “I did not mean to cause you pain.”

First do no harm, he reminded himself. The swellings were firm, but no more so than they had been upon his last examination two days prior. The dark blue coloration seemed virtually the same.

“A fortnight,” the physician said to Emily as he stepped back. “It is beyond my ken. You have done a fine job in caring for him.”

“It cannot be the result of my efforts,” she said. “I do nothing more than wipe the sweat from his brow.”

Alejandro dipped his hands in the bowl of water that Emily had brought and dried them on the towel that hung over her forearm. It had become a practiced ritual between them over the course of William’s illness, only this time she refrained from commenting on his obsession with hand-washing.

“And there is nothing more that can be done. It is in God’s realm now.” He did not add what seemed obvious to him–that Cooper’s fate had belonged to God for some time. “That he has lived so long in this suspended state seems almost an aberration of nature.”

But years of rendering medicine had shown him many such oddities, and he had come–over time–to the conclusion that such aberrations might often be part of the divine scheme. He wondered what Guy de Chauliac might say to that notion and wished, for the thousandth time, for an opportunity to discuss it with his friend and mentor.

As he went to leave, the woman took him by the arm and said, “My husband has said we ought to pay you.”

He had never asked her for money; he knew they had barely enough to get by. “No,” he said, “I will not accept payment. I lack for nothing. But please–tell me one thing. In all the time I have known you both, we have never spoken of why it is that your husband chose to bring you here to live among the Jews, when as Christians, all the rest of Avignon is available to you. I would know the reason.”

She hesitated briefly, as if judging his trustworthiness. Finally she said, “We had to leave our village, a place called Eyam, at the foot of the Peaks. It bordered on one of the king’s favorite hunting reserves.” She wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. “It was a very hard winter;we were cold and hungry.”

Alejandro saw de Chauliac at his door in the desperate winter of 1357 and shuddered without realizing it as the memory of the biting cold and their desperate hunger overtook him. He recalled in his mind the bitter words he had said to the Frenchman that day:

You are not wanted here.

No, de Chauliac had replied, but I am needed. The food he brought from Paris saved their lives.

“The gamekeepers caught my husband hunting,” he now heard Emily Cooper say. “They said he was within the boundaries of the reserve, but he was outside, he swears it! It didn’t matter; the king would have ordered him hanged him anyway.”

Alejandro eyed her curiously. “But–he did not.”

“No. He was robbed of the opportunity. Our son went to rescue Will; they had only put my husband in a pen, not within the irons. One of the guards was drunk, so the boy managed to free him.”

“A brave and worthy son,” he said.

“Aye,” the woman said sadly. “A lost son.” She pulled up the corner of her apron and wiped her eyes again, one after the other, then looked at the physician. “The warder awakened and put an arrow in him as he climbed over the wall behind his father.”

He lowered his gaze respectfully. “I am truly sorry.”

Emily nodded her acknowledgment of his sympathy and returned to her husband’s side. She wiped his brow with the wet corner of her apron, then sat down on a chair at the bedside. A hard and distant look came over her–an expression Alejandro had never seen her wear before. She cast one last look in his direction, and the physician felt an unspoken accusation.

For a few moments, he considered giving the cooper’s wife some of his own gold, but he did not wish to embarrass her. It was best simply to depart.




“My lord,” the page said, bowing deeply to the king.

“Ah, Chaucer. Always so prompt. I trust your lord Lionel can spare you for a moment.”

As if there could be any question of it. “Yes, sire. He and Lady Elizabeth are taking some air.”

“Good. ’Tis a fine day for air. My own scribe is occupied at the moment with other matters, and I have need of some transcription.”

Meaning, Chaucer knew, that the scribe had taken a bit too much of the drink again and could not be trusted for accuracy. He had corrected many of the man’s mistakes of late; most might have been considered amusing had they not involved affairs of state.

“Of course, sire,” the young man answered. “I shall be honored.”

King Edward III gestured toward a corner of the chamber. “You will find what you need there, in the secretary.”

As Geoffrey Chaucer gathered pen and parchment from the marble-topped desk, the king added, “I trust that you will keep this correspondence in strictest confidence. My son speaks very highly of your discretion. Now, please–these are letters critical to our welfare–record my words precisely.”

He cleared his throat and began to speak. “Your Holiness,” he began. A long and flowery greeting followed; Chaucer silently mouthed it in unison with the king, for he had written it many times.

And then the king got to the heart of the matter:

We are pleased to announce that our beloved daughter Isabella has agreed–of course, pending your approval–to accept a proposal of marriage from the Baron Enguerrand de Coucy. We ask your permission to call the banns for their nuptials at the earliest possible date.

Chaucer nearly dropped the pen. He fumbled to regain it and had to examine the page to see if there were any accidental markings. He saw none, so he scribbled furiously to catch up.

At the same time, I wish to ask a great personal favor of you. I have a...

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Verlag
Delacorte Pr
Erscheinungsdatum
2006
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0385335059
ISBN 13 
9780385335058
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Auflage
1
Anzahl der Seiten
514
Kontakt zum Hersteller
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Verantwortliche Person
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