Pendragon

'From what you have said,' Paulinus ventured, 'I think it safe to say that the disease follows the Vandal fleet. Where their keels touch, the pestilence alights.'

'If that is the way of it,' I said, 'I am wondering why the Cymbrogi remain untouched? They have been fighting the barbarian from the first, yet no one has fallen ill. Also,' I pointed out, 'the Vandali stormed Ierne before coming to Britain, yet we have heard no word of plague from anyone there.'

The monk considered this carefully. 'Then,' he concluded at last, 'it must arise from some other source.' Turning to Elfodd, he asked abruptly: 'The man who died last night – where was his home?'

'Why, he lived nearby,' the abbot answered, 'at Ban Curnig; it lies a little to the west. But he was a farmer. I do not think he had ever been on a ship – or even near one.'

'I see.' Paulinus frowned. 'Then I do not know what to say. I have never heard of plague arising anywhere but in a port, and we are a fair distance from the sea.'

We all fell silent, thinking how this mystery might be solved. 'What about the others?' I asked after a time. 'Two more died; were they farmers as well?'

'I do not know,' Elfodd replied, 'and they can tell us nothing now.'

'One of them was a trader,' Charis said. 'At least, I assumed so. I have seen a merchant's purse often enough to know one.'

Avallach stood and summoned one of his servants. After a quick consultation the servant hastened away. 'We will soon discover what can be learned from a merchant's purse.'

'While we wait,' Elfodd suggested to Paulinus, 'tell us what you know of this pestilence.' With that, the monk began to relate all he knew of the disease and the various means and methods he had learned for treating the victims. There were herb and plant potions thought to offer some relief; fresh water – that is, water drawn only from swift-running streams – must be maintained for drinking; grain must be roasted before eating, or be thrown away – especially grain tainted by rats; travel must be curtailed, for the disease seemed to spread most freely when men moved unrestrained. The dead must be burned, along with their clothing and belongings and, to be certain, their houses and grainstores too. Fire offered some protection, since once burned out the pestilence rarely returned.

'I will allow you no false hope,' Paulinus warned. 'There are several kinds of plague – all are deadly. With the Yellow Ravager, as in war, it is a fight to the death. Many will die, the weak and the old first. That cannot be helped. But the measures I have suggested will be the saving of many.'

The servant returned shortly, bearing a leather bag which he gave to Avallach. 'Now then,' said the Fisher King, untying the thongs. He emptied the contents of the bag onto the table before us. Coins spilled out… nothing else.

'I had hoped to find something to tell us whence this trader came,' Avallach said ruefully.

Gazing at the small pile of coins, I saw the glint of silver in the sunlight. Shoving aside the lesser coins, I picked up a silver denarius. Londinium! But of course, that open cesspit could spawn a thousand plagues!

'Grandfather,' I said, holding up the coin, 'the bag has spoken most eloquently. See here! The man has lately been in Londinium.'

'How do you know this?' asked Elfodd, greatly amazed.

'Aside from Eboracum, that is the only place he can offer his goods in trade for silver like this.'

'Truly,' added Paulinus, 'if he had fallen ill in Eboracum, I think he would have died before ever crossing the Ouse.'

'And,' put in Charis, 'Londinium is a port.'

Elfodd nodded, accepting the evidence laid before him. 'So, our friend has lately been trading in Londinium and was returning home when he fell ill. How does this help us?'

Paulinus replied, 'The city can be warned and sealed off, thereby greatly containing the disease. For it is known that even those who merely pass through a plague city may become ill.'

'Very well,' Elfodd concluded. 'Now, to the matter of the curatives -'

'Speak not of curatives,' Paulinus cautioned, 'where none exists.'

'Even so,' I replied, 'you mentioned elixirs that might offer some relief. How are these to be prepared?'

Paulinus, somber in light of the daunting prospect before us, replied, 'With the ingredients in hand, preparing the potions is simplicity itself.' He laid a finger to his lower lip. 'I think… yes, the best I know makes use of a water-loving herb as its chief element. I believe the land here abounds with the very plant required – and the other herbs are easily gathered.'

'We will need a very great quantity,' Charis pointed out.

'The brothers will provide all that is needed,' Abbot Elfodd promised. 'We have among us men well skilled in such matters already, and they can teach others. Reaching every settlement and holding will be much more difficult.'

'Leave that to me,' I said. A plan had begun forming in my mind. 'Now, Paulinus, you must tell us everything you know about the making of this remedy and its use. Everything,' I stressed, 'to the smallest particular, mind, since your directions will be carried to every holding and city in the land.'

Paulinus the reluctant scholar proved an able teacher, as he began describing the process by which the elixir was made and how it should be used for best effect. As he spoke, I found myself admiring the clarity of his disciplined mind. His years of learning were not in the least wasted on him, as he feared. What is more, I could well appreciate his elation at finally hearing the call he had waited so long to answer.

'Of course, it is infinitely better to prevent the illness,' the learned monk concluded. 'The small benefit offered by the remedy is useless if the potion is not given at the onset of the fever. With the potion there is small enough possibility of improvement. Without it,' he warned, 'nothing can avail, save prayer alone.'

'I understand,' I replied. Turning to Avallach, who had maintained a grim, watchful silence during our discussion, I said, 'You will be in danger here. I would have you come to Caer Melyn with me, for the abbey will soon become a haven as well as a hospice.'

'Son,' replied Avallach kindly, 'it is that already. This disease but increases the work. And, as the toil is multiplied, so too the glory. What God sends we will endure, depending not on our own strength but upon the One who upholds us all. And,' he said, lifting his hand, palm upward, in the manner of a supplicant, 'if prayer can avail, I will devote myself to it with a whole and willing heart.'

I was clearly not persuading him otherwise, so I did not press the matter further. 'May your prayers prove more potent than any elixir,' I told him.

When our talk concluded a short while later, we left Avallach to his rest. Paulinus, Elfodd, Charis and I walked down to the lake, where the monk showed us the plant which gave the potion its healing power. Putting off his tunic and sandals, and rolling up his trouser legs, he waded into the water – bent-backed, hands on knees, dark eyes searching the cool, green shallows.

In a moment, he stopped and reached into the water and brought up a plant with long green leaves, clusters of small pale pink flowers on a fleshy stem. I knew the plant as that which the lake-dwellers called ffar gros. 'This,' he said, pointing to the thick brown root, 'when crushed with the leaves and stalks of the garlec and the brillan mawr in equal measure – and the whole prepared as I have told you – provides such benefit as we can supply.' Then, as if proving the taste of the imagined remedy, he added, 'I think a little liquor of the rhafnwydden will make it more palatable.'

Returning to the bank, he quickly secured the other plants he had mentioned. For indeed they grow readily in woods and along most watercourses throughout Ynys Prydein. Satisfied with his ingredients, Paulinus led us on to the abbey, where, after obtaining the necessary utensils, he set about preparing the potion, showing us how to strip the stems and roots of the plants before crushing and boiling them together with a small amount of salt water in a pot. The water turned yellow and smelled of rotten eggs.