Chapter 14: Welsh Threat

(Will Archer narrates)

I try my hardest to hold the town together, but more people fleeing the fighting around the city of Chester try to enter the town for protection. There is no sign yet of the Powys army in pursuit and I doubt they will come this far, but the refugees are not ready for persuasion from their convictions.

While there are pressures from without, the ferment within to escape the pestilence is also a problem. Just as we thought the pestilence was waning, with fewer getting sick and with regular nursing to those remaining in their houses, we have had six deaths yesterday afternoon and two more overnight, including the merchant who took my bedchamber. The word of the fatalities has spread through the town and more people are wanting to leave, pressing that they are fit and not carrying the pestilence, but I cannot take the chance.

I nock an arrow this morning for the first time in a week, I have had no time to practice my archery skills, but at this range my dart would pass through three men at full draw. I stand facing the head of the protesting townsfolk in the Market Square. I have a handful of fit men at arms, too few who could be spared from the pickets, including my clerk Jack Moor, just risen from his sickbed this morning, his fever broken but his body too weak yet to wield a sword. His hand rests on his dagger and looks mean.