Sleep

Back in Eatonbury, they all gathered in the abandoned chapel, shortly after sunrise.

The narrow bed had been moved slightly away from the wall so the doctors could work on either side. Metal and wood instruments were laid neatly in rows. Clean cloths, a basin of water, a cup, and a small spoon waited on the stool.

Agnes was already seated on the edge of the bed in a special crisp white shift, and her little legs dangled in their impeccable white stockings. Lorenzo sat on the low stool so that their eyes were level.

The doctor delicately took her left wrist first, his two long and slender fingers resting over the flutter of her pulse. He counted silently, then looked at her eyes, even though she could not see his through the dark glass of his mask. His academic proximity made her swallow.

”Don’t be frightened,” Lorenzo whispered upon reading her expression.

He then wrote the number down.

Cedric read the figure and nodded. Lorenzo then counted her breaths. He then proceeded to record it. While he did this, Edgar pulled down Agnes’s lower eyelids, one at a time, holding his lantern close. All three took turns making their observations.

Lorenzo gently felt along the sides of her neck and beneath her jaw.

“How is my throat?” Agnes asked.

”Absolutely heroic,” Lorenzo said.

One of the sisters working in the background dropped a bowl with such a clatter that little Agnes jumped.

“There is too much noise here,” Lorenzo said.

”Agreed,” Abbess Elinor said. “All sisters depart. I will stay with the doctors.”

There was a polite scramble of sisters and postulants then. Each one finished their tasks and began to shuffle out, but not without an encouraging look or a smile for their little sister.

Sister Agatha left Agnes with a little red fox she had fashioned out of sheep’s wool and had stuffed with fleece. She tried to hide the tears when Agnes waved at her, so Sister Beatrice comforted Agatha as they left.

”Is the initial examination done?” Elinor asked quietly.

Cedric and Edgar nodded.

It was now time for Lorenzo to uncork the vial. Inside, the liquid was dark and thick. Cedric confirmed the dose aloud one last time, then recorded it in the journal.

Beyond, near the old altar, Vicaress Cecily and three senior sisters already began the morning office. The voices stayed low, but the abandoned chapel filled with haunting Latin chants that neither rose nor faltered.

Just outside the garden walls, clad in full armor, Ignatius waited for his summons, a knot in his stomach.

Concealing the heaviness and the wild pounding in his heart, Lorenzo poured the thick contents of the vial into a small cup, which he then offered to Agnes.

“It might taste bitter,” he warned. “You will feel sleepy quickly. We will be here. Your job is to have the prettiest dream, so you can tell us all about it when you wake up.“

Agnes smelled the draught first and grimaced.

”Cedric?” Lorenzo asked.

Cedric then stepped forward and drizzled in a little honey. Lorenzo then mixed and offered it again. Edgar wanted to reassure her, but simply could not quite meet her gaze, so he stayed quiet.

Still cautious, Agnes looked at the abbess for permission. Elinor nodded.

Finally, the girl took the cup from Lorenzo’s hand and gulped it down in one try. She swallowed with a grimace, then covered her mouth, with her eyes shut.

”Ugh.”

”You all right?” Lorenzo asked.

She nodded with her eyes still squeezed shut and her mouth covered.

“Well done,” Lorenzo said. “How do you feel?”

Agnes shrugged.

”Blech… good.”

”Good,” Lorenzo said as Cedric and Edgar moved closer to gather the blankets and extra pillows. ”Now, lie down.”

”Edgar, make sure the fire burns no hotter than this,” Cedric instructed, gathering blankets.

“We will keep the logs coming,” Elinor said, bringing extra linens.

”There. Comfortable?” Lorenzo asked, focused on nothing else but Agnes.

”Mm-hm,” Agnes said.

”When do you want to do the next measurement, Lorenzo?” Cedric asked.

”At every turn of the small glass,” Lorenzo replied. “We rouse her if the pulse drops below…the number discussed.”

”Aye,” Cedric replied.

“I placed the barley water and the rosemary behind you, Lorenzo…” Edgar said, placing something soft between her hands. “Your fox, miss.”

Agnes played with it for a few seconds, making voices.

”Why do you frown so, Plague Doctor Edgaaaaar…?”

She then let out her first yawn.

It seemed that the universe stopped turning.

All activity around her ceased. Every eye fell on the tiny girl as her eyelids drooped with that little sigh.

”Agnes?” Cedric asked.

”Hm?” she asked sleepily.

Her eyes looked heavy. Her breathing deepened and settled. When Lorenzo lifted her eyelid, her pupil was slow to respond to the lantern light.

Finally, her little head sank into the pillow.

“She’s under,” Cedric said quietly.

”Time?” Lorenzo asked.

”The second glass,” Edgar said and wrote it down.

Within minutes, the pulse under Lorenzo’s finger slowed into the steady rhythm of slumber. He recorded the number in the journal.

They settled into the watch as agreed. One physician always remained at the bedside, fingers on the pulse, eyes on her breath. At intervals they took a little water to moisten her little lips. The brazier was kept low so she neither chilled nor overheated.

Elinor stayed longer than she had intended. The sight of little Agnes asleep on the bed, surrounded by linens, had been one for which she had not fully prepared.

At length, she prepared to leave.

”The sisters have prepared your beds and supper will be brought to you. There’s a bell. Send for us if you need anything… or if the situation merits.”

”Thank you,” Cedric said before Elinor departed.

Hours passed by the turning of the hourglass, while the doctors recorded each observation as agreed. The sisters’ prayers continued without pause. The sound of Latin filled the space, as did the quiet and careful movements of the three men around the peaceful, sleeping child.

At night, the air inside the chapel grew colder, then took a faint green cast that did not come from the brazier or the open window. Despite the change, Agnes‘s body did not stir.

”It’s her,” Lorenzo said, the words catching in his throat. “She is rising.”