1347, Canterbury, England
As I finished reading my face started turning red. I had thought of myself as an great doctor but the head doctor thinks so! I folded up the letter haphazardly and stuffed it in my coat pocket.
I rushed to my small bedroom and grabbed my Scrip* from under my cot. I filled it with some coins, food, medical utensils and a small dagger. I then rushed to grab some clothes from my chest. I sat them all in a corner so I would have them when it came time to leave.
I sat down on my cot and started thinking of what could await me in England. Maybe the city will be made of gold with angels fluttering about. Maybe it will have towers so great that even our cathedral would be dwarfed. As I daydreamed I slowly drifted off to sleep.I only awoke when I heard a pounding at my door.
*Scrips Are a medieval satchel
YOU ARE READING
The Doctor is In
Historical FictionThe story of a Plague doctor in the late 1340s as he navigates his job his family and his love life
