The Brat Page 0,68

fallow, but surely the plague did not strike the animals as well?"

"Saying the fields went fallow suggests that the harvest was plowed under and left to fertilize them," Clement pointed out shortly. "With so few of us here, we could not even manage that. The crops have been left to rot where they grow."

"My lady," Gatty said quietly, casting a sharp gaze at the cook.

"Allow me to explain."

Murie nodded, and Gatty continued: "Half our people were taken by the plague. A good portion of the remaining half fled for fear of contagion. This left very few to try to keep body and soul together. With no one to watch over them, many of the animals wandered off or simply died of starvation. And then we began to hear tales of lords willing to pay large sums of money or rewards such as fine cottages and extra food for workers to tend their fields. Most of those remaining promptly picked up and left.

"Unfortunately, many of those also chose to take what livestock was left behind ... in lieu of payment, they claimed," she added bitterly. "Those of us standing before you now are all who stayed behind and remained loyal to our lord, and we were left with little more than what we could harvest from the fields or the orchard ... and the new large pond. Fish."

Murie sank back against her seat, her eyes slipping over the people around her. They all wore rough woolen clothes made from a cheap brown fabric. Each had a hollow look about the eyes - including the roundish Thibault - that suggested they had lost weight of late. And they had the slump-shouldered bearing of the defeated. Their morale was obviously low; but then, Murie supposed, if all they'd had to eat for the last year was fish - morning, noon and night - she could not blame them.

Truly, while Murie had known things went badly at Gaynor, it was heartbreaking to realize just how bad. But then, it had been bad everywhere. The plague had struck London violently, taking almost half of the population. Everywhere had been chaos. Many of the nobility had fled to the country, hoping to find safety there, but the majority of Londoners had not had the option. A good number had become nothing better than animals and, seeming to think it was the end of days, they had consumed all the drink and food they could, moving from empty dwelling to empty dwelling, whether homes of the already deceased or of owners who'd fled to the country. They'd taken what they wanted with no one to stop them. Meanwhile, others had simply shut themselves in their homes and tried to avoid and ignore anything that went on outdoors in an effort to stay safe. The terror had been so bad that brother abandoned brother, son abandoned parent, and even mothers abandoned their children at the first sign of a cough or a redness, all for fear it was the plague.

Of course, Murie had only heard of this secondhand. She, like everyone else connected to the king, had been locked up in Windsor Castle where the revelry was nonstop and seemed almost manic. One would almost have thought that no one at court had any idea of what was going on outside ... if it were not for the fact that it was on everyone's lips. And the king's favorite daughter, Joan, had been taken by the plague. She'd died in Bayonne at the age of fourteen. She'd been on her way to marry Peter I of Castile.

"Very well," Murie said finally. "Fish roasted over the fire sounds delightful, and I thank you for troubling to make it. I shall speak to my husband about purchasing some livestock when he returns from getting his accounts from Anselm."

Nodding stiffly, Clement turned and made his way to a door that she presumed led to the kitchens.

They were all silent, and then Gatty stepped forward, her shoulders squared. "Well, his lordship said I should give you a tour. Where would you like to start, my lady?"

Murie waved a hand vaguely. "Wherever you deem it best to start, Gatty. You know this castle better than I." Nodding, the servant turned and gestured the others out of the way. As they moved to the sides, she announced, "The great hall."

Murie stood, smiling faintly, and moved toward the small grouping of chairs around the fire across the room. The chairs were well-made, no doubt