The Nature of Foxes

Lorenzo rode on the box beside Cedric, the driver, for the first stretch. Edgar kept pace beside them, and Ignatius rode a short distance ahead, while Agnes sat inside the closed carriage seats, her dangling feet not quite touching the floor.

The land they passed through remained mostly low and wooded as thick strands of oak and ash lined the track.

A few passersby took a look at the haunting image of the three plague doctors followed by the branded wagon and mysterious knight leading the way, and moved away to let them pass, covering their mouths with rags.

Taking small peeks under the heavy curtains, Agnes also noticed how people stepped quickly from the road when they noticed the painted crosses on her carriage.

Later that day, a harsher wind found them. Rain, thin at first, then heavier, drove sideways into their company and pelted the glass of the window pane. The riders bent into it. There was only the sound of boots and wet hooves digging deep into the mud.

Eventually, the rain stopped, and the group found a dry enough patch to start a fire and camp for the night. Ignatius said that he had chosen the spot for its clear sightlines and the small stream that ran nearby.

Lorenzo and Cedric led the horses out to graze, and Agnes stayed inside until the fire was lit, then sat on the carriage step with her cloak tight around her small frame.

By then, everyone understood that Edgar had been named official attendant of the party, per Agnes’ decree. He was quickly put in charge of the cooking, the serving, and the cleaning. And days later, laundry.

They enjoyed the warmth of the fire, occasionally taking cautious glimpses towards the forest, an eerie wind howling through the branches. It eventually reached them, shifting the hem of their cloaks and sending Agnes’s veil flying. Without asking, she moved to crawl and tucked herself against the leather of his cloak until he fell asleep. Later, he carried her inside the carriage.

Ignatius kept watch and kept his distance from their merry company.

✨✨✨

By morning, the first steady string of villages appeared. Agnes had been excited about this portion of the journey, and kept glancing out from under the curtain of the carriage window, in direct defiance of both Ignatius's and Lorenzo’s stern orders.

She had been expecting thriving villages and manors, bursting with markets and blooms. Instead, they passed shallow pits, dug in a hurry, where men were actively lowering wrapped bodies without ceremony.

They encountered the first abandoned farms on the riverbanks. They saw doors that had been left open to the weather, and yards that were empty of livestock, with single carts left out in the mud.

Agnes tried to stay optimistic still, and became momentarily excited when she heard voices, a little farther on.

Yet, all that was visible was a line of flagellants moving slowly in the opposite direction. The grotesque crack of their scourges made Agnes hide again behind the curtain.

Settlements grew more substantial by mid-afternoon. Hamlets became villages. Villages showed church towers, and clusters of stone houses with the same red marks on their doors. The same terrible quiet ruled across stately manors. Empty marketplaces. And so many dead that churchyards had spilled beyond their walls where crosses and headstones crowded one another. Fires and the faint sounds of crying or coughing seemed to be everywhere.

The next night, they slept in watches. Agnes curled on the carriage bench under an extra blanket. Lorenzo had given her. The three doctors kept their masks on, even while resting. Ignatius sat again, with his back to a tree, sword across his knees. He didn’t remove his helmet either. Everyone took turns sleeping except for him. No one saw him eat or drink. The plague doctors had begun to debate if he was even human.

The landscape didn’t improve much the following day. As they edged closer to the river, they encountered the first crowd gathered around a couple of freshly retrieved corpses that had been dredged from among the reeds.

“Make haste,“ said Lorenzo.

Ignatius nodded.

With this, the horses were spurred, and the wagon sped up.

Soon, even the tragic scenes began to pass faster as they picked up their pace.

By the third night, they stopped near the shell of an abandoned farmstead. The old byre offered enough shelter for the horses and a dry corner for the fire. Edgar warmed a thin pottage the convent had sent. Agnes said her evening prayers in her little voice from the carriage doorway. Lorenzo held out a jug of ale to Ignatius, who had come in from his watch. He accepted it with a polite bow and still held it, even when he didn’t drink any of it.

He did sit down with them

At least, that was something.

Rain began to pelt again after dark, soft and steady.

“We have to scrub away the red paint before our arrival. Might as well make use of this rain,” Lorenzo said, grabbing rags. “Even if we enter the city on foot.”

Cedric nodded and let him pass.

Somewhere beyond, a fox barked once.

“A fox!” Agnes said, getting up immediately from her prayer.

“Stay close. Do not wander off, Lady Agnes,” Ignatius called out.

But it was too late.

“Nature’s child that girl is,” Cedric mused once she ran under the deluge.

“Yet, nature doesn’t always explain everything,” Ignatius said.

Cedric turned toward the knight.

”Do you consider God’s creation imperfect then?”

Ignatius looked up.

“Venom often offers its own remedy, does it not?” Ignatius asked.

”It does,” Edgar confirmed, the light of the flame casting itself on the outlines of his beaked mask. “Sometimes.”

”Have you an interest in our field, Ignatius?” Cedric quipped. “We can always use more brains and… fewer swords going through brains.”

A bit taken aback by the question, it took Ignatius a moment to respond.

”No,” Ignatius said. “I don’t do well with contradictions.”

“Foxes…” Cedric said. “Foxes are a contradiction… The shape of a hound. Yet feline in habit. You see it in the eyes, if they allow you to look.”

All the men remained quiet for a moment.

“I don’t see Agnes.”

With this, the knight got up and left their fire.

”Ignatius! Ignatius!” Agnes called from some distance away. “Ignatius, I found a kit! Look!”

”A kit? Let’s see it.”

”I think his papa and mama are missing…” she said, dragging him by the hand, even if he was quite heavy, so she strained when he did not keep to her speed. “Can we bring him with us?”

Even concealed under the masks, Edgar and Cedric exchanged looks.

✨✨✨

By late morning, the greenery fell away, and the city of Ansel rose from beyond the forest. All high walls and towers at first sight, then its heavy iron gates appeared, open, but heavily guarded.

They left the carriage and horses at a hostelry beyond the city gate.

Once they entered on foot, the city felt disorienting with its crowded rooftops, religious houses, and narrow streets, filled with smoke. Bells rang with uneven, anxious beats. Carts with covered bodies rolled toward the walls. Above it all, the ecclesiastical palace of the Archbishop dominated the skyline.

Agnes moved to walk in the center of the group, black veil drawn now forward, like a woman on a mission.

Lorenzo glanced once at the castle, then down at the crowded and stricken streets. Cedric muttered something, and Edgar said nothing. Ignatius kept his hand on his sword and his eyes on the rooftops. They moved deeper into Ansel.

”We are here to see the Archbishop with a message from Abbess Elinor of Eatonbury,” Agnes announced to the porter.

Surprised by the tiny veiled messenger, the man surveyed the company slowly with a scrutinizing gaze.

“Wait here,” he said.

A few minutes later, the porter returned and the heavy door opened before them.

“Pardon…” the porter said once they all entered. “Your… muscle stays outside.”

Aware that the comment was aimed at Ignatius, who was holding Agnes by the hand, the knight hesitated.

“Keep her safe,” Ignatius said under his breath.

Lorenzo nodded and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder before he and the others followed the porter, with little Agnes leading the charge.