A Tale Before Time

A City of Ruins

1361, Constantinople.

When the patient stumbled in, falling down on her newly polished floor, Thamar assumed he was drunk--a sailor determined to spend all of his earnings before setting off again. But even before she touched him, she could feel the heat radiating of his skin. Then, he vomited blood.

Lord, not again.

Thamar stripped off his breeches and recoiled. His groin was covered in tumours, some as large as apples. For a moment, she was a ten-year-old girl again, dying on the streets amongst the decomposing bodies. Involuntarily, her fingers covered the scars in her neck. She had survived.

She shook herself. "Eirene!"

Her apprentice clattered down the pantry ladder, clutching her robes in her arms. The girl was barely thirteen, her eyes large and eager. She had never seen the plague.

"Get soap and hot water." She looked back at the man. "And close down the infirmary."

***

The young surgeon and her apprentice entered the great open hall, scarves over their mouths and hands gloved in leather. The fresh sea breeze filled the marble room, pulling at their robes.

Anna Kallista, the lady of the house, leaned back on her elegant couch a safe distance away. "Are you sure it's back?"

"Yes, kyria."

"Interesting." The lady gazed outside, picking at her pomegranate seeds. "This is an excellent opportunity. I require some... sensitive documents. The defensive plans of the city of Adrianopolis. They are likely in the possession of commander Andronikos Nikaias. No doubt he will join the Senate when this news gets around. A surgeon such as yourself should have no trouble getting in, in times like these. Bring me those plans."

"But... Kyria, that is treason."

She raised one eyebrow. "Do this, and I will free you of your slave bond."

Thamar's breath caught. "Free Eirene, and I'll do it."

"Deal."

***

Her flowing white robes and veiled face granted her quick access to the New Palace of Constantinople, with the news of the plague spreading fast. Overlooking the glittering sea of the Golden Horn, her heart tightened as she watched the chain being raised over the narrow sea strait. No ships in or out. 

Behind her, church bells rang. Spires of churches caught the sunlight, buildings draping the peninsula up until the the great double walls, which would remain closed. For the second time in less than two decades. The City must be cursed.

The Palace hummed with activity, politicians conversing in words full of hidden meaning. Thamar knew how to decipher them. Emperor Ioannes was planning another war, the plague both a tool and a nuisance.

The Senate was in session, so the private quarters might be unattended. With a bag full of purifying incense, she made her way through the Senators' rooms, burning herbs in every brazier, until she reached her goal. His desk was organised, tidy, and didn't hold any report on Adrianopolis. Glancing at the door, she searched through his possessions. Until her fingers found a messenger scroll, filled with numbers and schematics.