We couldn’t even run without leaving behind the mother and her children, to say nothing of our belongings. All we could do was speedily make for the protection of the nearest town. I couldn’t look at Master Chaucer. If he was responsible for the French arriving so soon, that would mean he’d lied to me again. It was a dismal thought. More than dismal: it turned him into an enemy. Nor could I look at the summoner, for fear that he had guessed everything. My father! My father! Nor could I look at Luke, or ride with Walter. I was glad to concentrate on the rush. The nearest town was half-derelict. “Plague’s been here,” Dame Alison said as we hurried over the tumbled stones. “Better the plague than the French,” Mistress Midwife gabbled. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.” Everybody crossed themselves madly, and I began to count chickens, sheep, travelers, the pots on a peddler’s back, clouds, leaves, and even dewdrops, forcing everything into multiples of three though many didn’t want to go.
