Our Best Table

“I know it doesn’t look like much right now,” Agnes said. “But it should be ready to welcome you all in a few days.”

”You’re opening a…tavern?” Lorenzo asked.

Agnes nodded.

”A tavern?” Cedric asked.

Again, Agnes nodded.

”During these days?” Cedric asked. “Who would even come? For whom?”

”For you!” she said cheerfully. “For the plague doctors. So you can come after a hard day’s work. You come in. Sit back. Get your ale. Get your supper, hot and served with gratitude. You are our knights against this hex after all.”

”Hex. So that’s what you think it is?” Lorenzo asked.

Agnes paused, then rolled her eyes.

”Only a turn of phrase, Plague Doctor Lorenzo. A woman of God, such as myself, would never hint at the occult. That is blasphemy. Whereas I am basically a mystic.”

Lorenzo didn’t say a word.

“You are very kind,” Cedric said. “I sure am tired of the same reheated slop I can barely manage each night. We will send word to the doctors in the nearby villages. Poor wretches haven’t had a decent meal in weeks. Those who are still alive, that is.”

“Please do, Doctor Cedric!” Agnes exclaimed. “It would be an honor to host as many of you as can travel here. As long as our candle is lit by the window, a plague doctor will never want for a hot meal and a warm hearth. Or a friendly ear. Even for you, forlorn and unkind Plague Doctor Lorenzo.”

Lorenzo continued to gaze thoughtfully at the diminutive entrepreneur.

“Alaric has the basket with all your supplies for today, now shoo…” Agnes continued. “Oh! And don’t forget to bring the drunkard Doctor Edgar. And also keep in mind, we don’t take credit!”

✨✨✨✨

By sunset on the third day, everything was ready.

Even back in the olden days, the former hospitium had never held such quiet, cozy warmth. Now, even the floor was spotless. The tables and chairs were arranged in neat, geometrical patterns. Candles flickered and cast their golden light in every nook around the great fireplace now cradling glowing logs that crackled, whistled and snapped. The old oak counter lay primed with plenty of room and plate settings for tired pilgrims thirsting for a cup. Or, preferably, a jug or two.

A single candle burned against the lead beveled glass of the window that faced the lane and the forest beyond. As promised. One single luminous square visible to anyone walking the track across the forest.

Welcome, it appeared to say out loud, and in the kindest voice. Come in, weary traveler. This late spring wind has a way of chilling the bones, doesn’t it? Come, come! The fire is warm, the air smells of baked bread and woodsmoke, and new friends await to be met!

But no one had come in yet.

Which was concerning because there was no fog, and it was not raining.

Little Agnes bit her lip.

The beam above the bar displayed the menu, a tablet pinned to the wood.

Was it visible enough? Agnes wondered. Was there enough variety? Maybe they should have included drawings of the offerings…?

The food the sisters had prepared waited patiently inside heavy pots and covered baskets warmed on the sideboard. Thick pottage still bubbled. And the bread still held the heat from earlier.

Agnes bit her lip even harder.

What if…

What if they don’t come?

What if no one comes at all?

The littlest sister tried hard to keep such thoughts at bay. But she suddenly felt small in the space. It was just her. There was no one else to worry together with.

The postulants had long been called back behind the wall for vespers. The sisters remained strictly separate, as promised. They were forbidden so much as a peek to satisfy their curiosity. No one was allowed to spy, not even to look out for the lovesick unneighborly Templar knight.

Only Agnes would remain, veil covering half her face at all times.

Without her companion sisters. Without their words of encouragement.

The minutes crawled like years.

No one was coming.

She grew restless. So she rearranged some chairs, checked on the stew yet again, climbed up to the window to make sure the candle shone its brightest. She moved from here to there.

Maybe it’s just too quiet, she mused. That’s right. Taverns are known for loud conversation, laughter, music, even the occasional melee.

But this tavern was as quiet as a chapel. And who wants to go to a chapel?

Maybe she will hire a minstrel. It’s too bad she can’t simply ask Vicaress Cecily to play her gittern.

Maybe, she pondered more, finger tapping her little chin. Maybe it would be best to step on a crate behind the bar to make herself very tall. Otherwise people would mistake the tavern for being empty.

But right as she laid an unsteady crate down and climbed up on it, the clink of the bell announced an arrival.

The door had opened.

Agnes gasped.

Someone!

The first sound was the soft tap of a wooden staff on the rutted rack. A rustle of heavy leather covered in oily wax.

Agnes turned toward the door to see three dark shapes standing right by the door.

Leather gloves. Wide hoods. Curved beaked masks.

Her eyes lit up.

”You came!”

The veil could not contain her obvious excitement or her warm little smile. She even skipped excitedly, forgetting she was still standing on a crate, so she fell right off. But got up immediately and raced right over to the three men.

“Welcome, welcome weary travelers!”

“You are… “ Edgar asked in disbelief. ”…Agnes?”

“Yes!” Agnes said and bowed. “You must be Drunk Plague Doctor Edgar!”

”You… you…” Edgar shook.

Then immediately dropped to his knees.

”God in Heaven. You are so… CUUUUUUTE!”

The three of them watched as the tall, lanky plague doctor suffer a virtual fit of cuteness on the floor.

”That scared baby face…those chubby cheeks… your wee habit. You’re so adorable, I can’t stand it!”

Even Agnes didn’t know what to make of this display.

“Here, I was half expecting this wise, ancient woman of dogma and knowledge. But here you are, itty bitty thing… I don’t think I will ever overcome it!”

In truth, Agnes was so used to the gushing from others, she merely grunted while the doctor continued to spaz.

”Ugh…”

“Please, do not mind our colleague,” Cedric said, then landed a closed fist bump straight over Edgar’s head, which finally set him right.

Deciding to change the subject, Lorenzo spoke up.

”The place looks…suitable.”

Edgar still groaned on the floor.

“You think so?” Agnes grinned again. “The sisters and I worked very hard. Come, come, you simply must try the pottage…!”

She dragged tall Lorenzo by the hand, until all three of them were led to a table by the hearth.

“Our best table. We also have rabbit tonight. And you will have a jug of ale of course!”

”Of course,” Cedric said.

”I want rabbit,” Edgar raised his hand humbly, still smarting from the bump.

”Right away, crazy Doctor Edgar!” Agnes said cheerfully and soon disappeared behind the counter.

”So that’s my name now,” Edgar lamented.

“Feisty one,” Cedric said once she was gone.

“How does one so little join a nunnery?” Edgar wondered.

”Likely an orphan,” Lorenzo stated.

”Excessive cuteness or not, she still gave this one some lip,” Cedric said, pointing to Lorenzo. “Then made the apothecary pay off seven weeks of credit in full. Now she is to tend to this tavern alone?…Terrifying.”

“Risky as well,” Lorenzo said with that soft whispered voice of his.

“Since we’re here, should we press her to send more blue medicine?” Edgar asked. “I continue to lose patients.”

“Without knowing its efficacy…? It is not wise.”

”Efficacy?” Cedric asked. “Two of our patients took it. Two of our patients lived. At different stages of the illness.”

”Wait…two?” Edgar asked.

”The butcher,” Cedric nodded.

“The butcher lived?!” Edgar asked.

“Sssshh!” Cedric shushed him.

“What more proof do you need, Lorenzo?!”

“I still don’t know all the ingredients, Edgar.”

”Then we ask her!”

”I must agree with Edgar. You’ve known her longer. Surely you can coax it out of her,” said Cedric.

Lorenzo said nothing.

“Come now, Lorenzo, this is no time for timidity. Our dying are running out of time-…” Edgar said, but kept quiet when Agnes came back with all their plates and a jug. “Smells heavenly, Little Sister Agnes.”

“You are my first customers,” she declared, proudly.

”We sent word to the neighboring villages on your behalf,” Cedric said, tearing the bread and then dipping it in the pottage. “You’ll see one or two more doctors over the next few days. Godwilling.”

”Aye. We don’t expect too many. Anything certainly helps… I believe we will build slowly as word spreads…”

Yet, no sooner had Agnes finished her statement, they heard it.

They all heard it.

Footsteps.

A few at first.

Then, more.

Then, dozens more.

And voices.

Loud, boisterous voices.

The door swung open and one tall plague doctor stood at the threshold.

”Greetings! Is this the place where plague doctors are generously fed?”

”And sated!” Agnes responded with an enthusiastic nod.

“Blessed be!”

The plague doctor by the door then turned around and yelled outside.

”Friends! Indeed it’s here! We found it!”