CHAPTER XVII
The Great Plague
Again and again we read of miraculous signs in the heavens before some great disaster befalls a country. A fiery sword is said to have hung over the ill-fated city of Jerusalem for long months before its destruction. At the time of which we are writing a great blazing star, probably a comet, appeared in the heavens over the city of London, terrifying the inhabitants. Crowds of people would turn out at night into the open fields to see this wonderful thing, and would go back, with terror in their hearts, feeling assured that it was an omen of evil. Every night it appeared, a great, blazing star hanging in the firmament. Gradually, very gradually, the plague crept into the city; so slowly did it come, that only those whose business it was to note the mortality were aware of the gradual increase of deaths. It began first in the heart of the city, then it spread to the suburb of St. Giles'. Just two or three isolated cases against which no precaution was taken; indeed, they caused but little alarm. There are always pessimists, and people do not heed them. A small evil, therefore, remains unchecked until it becomes a great evil; then, and then alone, when it is too late, men take note of it. Such was the case at the present time. At Whitehall feasting and revelling were the order of the day throughout this month of May. The king and his court were to be seen in St. James's Park, gilded coaches rolled through the narrow streets of the city, despite the overpowering heat. It was as if that blazing comet, unseen by day, burnt the land up. The animals suffered fearfully: horses fell down dead, dogs had to be killed because they went mad. Even before the month of June streams were running dry, there was no rain, no moisture in the air, and gradually, striking men down by ones and twos, the scourge crept on, until at last people awoke to the knowledge that the fell disease was in their midst.
One morning Queen Henrietta summoned Patience to her.
"I do not care for it to be generally known," she said, "but it is settled that the court is going to Oxford. You, of course, will follow; make your preparations as quickly as you can. We shall probably leave here the day after to-morrow; it is to be done quietly not to scare the people."
"Is it necessary we should accompany your majesty?" said Patience. "With your permission, I think we would rather go home."
The queen turned haughtily towards her.
"Why must you always oppose me, Patience?" she asked. "Why do you wish to bury the child alive in that out-of-the-way place? The king is well disposed towards her. The Marquis of Orford has spoken of her with admiration. I am set upon making a marriage between them. If you do not choose to come, at least give me the child."
"I promised her mother I would never part from her," said Patience, "and so far I have kept my word. If your majesty insists upon her going to Oxford, I will go also."
"Do you mean to say that you wish to keep her in this infectious atmosphere?" said the queen.