The preparations for the voyage took about a month.
During that time, Eleanor and Margaret sorted through other volunteers, teaching them the basics of first aid, simple medical knowledge, and how to handle and manage syringes as quickly as possible. The rest of the people, with one heart and in accordance with the angel’s will, loaded all manner of cargo onto the ship: medicines, clothing, equipment, and the food they would eat during the voyage. Thanks to the thousands who participated in the preparations, the time was shortened to just one month. They were equipped to the point where they could set up a clinic as soon as they arrived.
And so, they set sail.
A month and a half passed.
“…”
“…”
“…For now, there are places you must go.”
Sir Raleigh pointed to Southwark, Houndsditch, and Aldgate on a map. “These are the places where the rats swarm the most, where the most sick will be wandering.”
In other words, they were all slums.
“We must establish clinics in these places. I will give you money, so find buildings in the vicinity and set up your tents. Do you understand?”
“I understand. So, do we set up the tents as soon as we land in Southwark?”
“Hm? Of course, we must all go to the Queen first. Who do you think will issue the edict to close public places? Who will mandate the wearing of masks covering the nose and mouth and ban all manner of gatherings?”
“…You, my lord?”
“Her Majesty the Queen.”
“Ah.”
“Given the timing, the plague has likely already begun to spread. Sir Nemo said that by the time we arrive, the court will have become aware of it.”
“…”
“…”
“So, we will go before the Queen, tell her we have discovered a cure, and then set up the clinics in the slums first. Do you understand?”
At Sir Raleigh’s words, Eleanor and Margaret glanced at each other for a moment. The slums of London were infamous for all manner of crime, sin, and filth. They were very dangerous places.
“Yes.”
“We must go.”
Neither of them hesitated.
As if on cue, just as Walter Raleigh finished speaking, the ship came to a stop with a lurching sensation. When the three of them emerged from the cabin, a nauseating stench assaulted them. Cargo and people disembarked together in Southwark.
Then, Sir Raleigh turned to the other two and said, “Phew… now then, let us cross the bridge and report to Her Majesty…”
“E-Excuse me.”
“What is it?”
“…”
Margaret grabbed Sir Raleigh’s sleeve and turned her head to look around. And then…
“…Good heavens.”
A man, his skin turning black from the extremities inward, lay collapsed on the street. People were recoiling in horror, avoiding him. The man’s body would likely be burned as soon as he died. Because he was a plague victim.
“Excuse me… how long will it take to go to the Queen and come back?”
“…Three days, at the very least.”
The streptomycin could not save a person unless it was injected within 48 hours of the onset of symptoms. And the man before them clearly did not look as if he had just fallen ill. And, in the alley behind where the man lay… countless people could be seen, coughing their lungs out.
All of them will die.
“…”
“…”
“…Do we really have to go to the Queen first?” Margaret asked.
Sir Raleigh hesitated for a moment, then opened his mouth. “No. Only one of us needs to go.”
“Then you go, Sir Raleigh. We can set up the clinic here first.”
“Eleanor, will you be alright? This is a dangerous place.”
“All of London is dangerous.”
“…”
“We will set up here. Please hurry back.”
After a moment of indecision, Sir Raleigh nodded, hailed a passing carriage, and departed for Whitehall Palace, where the Queen resided.
“Uh… Mrs. Dare? Miss Lawrence? About half the cargo has been unloaded from the ship. What should we…”
Now, all that remained were over a hundred volunteers, medicine to save thousands, and disinfectant.
Eleanor Dare and Margaret Lawrence looked at each other and rolled up their sleeves. “Let’s start by setting up the tents here.”
And so, the first clinic in London was established.
Five days passed. A rumor began to spread throughout London.
***
The closure of the theaters, which had begun during the last riots, was extended, and the taverns were shut. Public places where people might gather were closed one by one, and London grew a little more silent than before.
However.
“…Have you heard the rumor?” The world of high society and back-alley gossip was as vibrant as ever.
“What rumor is that?”
“You know, the ‘Free Clinic’.”
“Ah… you mean that place in the slums that gathers patients and treats them? Isn’t it run by some local church?”
“No. I hear Sir Raleigh is funding it with his own fortune…”
“What? That man? Astonishing.”
“How strange. Since when did that man become a philanthropist?”
Everyone was utterly amazed by Sir Raleigh’s ‘good deed.’ What could that power-hungry man possibly hope to achieve by winning the hearts of the poor? Surely, he wasn’t trying to build a power base in the slums. And wasn’t the plague spreading right now? It was a situation where one wrong move could put his own men, or even himself, at risk of death. Yet instead of fleeing London, he opens a large-scale clinic?
It was either an act of foolishness, or he had suddenly awakened as a saint.
“It’s like pouring water into a bottomless pit,” someone declared. “Think about it. It’s not as if they can cure the plague. What difference does it make to ease the passing of the sick for a little while? It will only lead to the deaths of the caregivers as well.”
“Sadly, that may be true…”
“From the perspective of minimizing damage, it’s not an unreasonable thing to say.”
While such conversations were taking place, the person who had first brought up the topic just smirked and waited, saying no more. Finally, when the others seemed to have run out of things to say, he spoke again.
“They say… they saw someone come out of Sir Raleigh’s free clinic alive.”
“What? Remarkable. But so what?”
“He must have hired good doctors. They might be able to save a person or two.”
“It wasn’t just any ordinary patient they saved. They say they saved him from the Black Death.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
The assembly responded with silence. For a moment, a flicker of ‘Could it be?’ passed through everyone’s eyes. The Black Death was a terrifying disease. It was as good as a disease with no hope of survival. That’s what everyone thought. But on the other hand, they remembered Sir Raleigh’s American colony. That place where all sorts of mysterious things existed. That place that produced strange metals and wondrous fruits.
“Could it be… a panacea?”
“Perhaps. Why don’t we go and try to obtain some?”
“Did they say it was free? I should send my personal physicians to procure it.”
“Of course, we’ll have to slip them some money. If we take it for free, can you imagine how Sir Raleigh would raise a fuss?”
They thought that perhaps, in that place, there might be an answer. Soon, they scattered to their own homes, tossing all manner of jokes amongst themselves.
And they never forgot the rumor.
Perhaps…
The very next day, physicians cloaked in robes that covered their entire bodies began to gather in Southwark from all corners of London.
***
Eleanor finally opened her eyes in her cabin. Still in her nightgown, she rubbed her bleary eyes and spoke. “Vir… Virginia? I’ll get you breakfast…”
Ah, she’s not here. She was on the other side of the Atlantic.
Chuckling at her own foolishness, Eleanor rubbed her eyes briefly and immediately put on the ridiculous white clown suit—the funny-looking one-piece garment he had called a protective suit. As she exited the cabin, others, also armed with protective suits and masks, were rushing about. She followed them off the ship and onto the wharf, where tents were lined up in rows.
Margaret, recognizing her, ran over. “How many patients today?”
“Fifty more! Good heavens, how can there be so many sick people here?”
“Did you turn away the fakers and those with other illnesses?”
“Yes! I scared them off by saying they’d turn into monsters if they took the medicine without having the plague.”
“Good work.”
With that, the two of them quickly lifted the flap of one of the tents and entered.
“G-Gwaaaah! S-Save me! Save me!”
“It hurts so much… It’s so hot… Just throw me in the sea…”
“Mama? H-Mama? Mama! Mama! Mama!”
It was like a chorus of madmen. A cacophony of screams, gibberish, and last words blended together to create a horrifying polyphony. Eleanor bit her lip hard and asked the nurse in charge of this tent, “How much medicine do we need on this side?”
“Uh, um, fifty vials! Five new people came in, and they each need an injection every day for ten days, so…”
“Alright. I’ll go get it. Margaret?”
“I’ve got it. I’ll take command of the nurses here…”
Eleanor went from tent to tent, checking the amount of medicine needed and the number of vials used. And then… Flap! She reached the tent used as a warehouse.
Numerous laborers were sweating profusely as they carried in new medicine and syringes. On one side, syringes were being sterilized with boiling water and fire, while on the other, torn or damaged protective suits were being repaired.
“Fifty vials for Tent 10.”
“Yes! Fifty vials, understood!”
“Mrs. Dare? The count for the sanitary gloves is off…”
“That’s because half the gloves haven’t been brought over from the ship yet. It’ll match up once they’re brought over, so don’t worry.”
“Mrs. Dare! Thirteen more patients have arrived!”
“Where are they from?”
“They say from the Aldgate area.”
“Then move them to the Aldgate tent! I’ll sort it out!”
There, Eleanor naturally took command. It was another busy, war-like day. Before long, the inside of her protective suit was completely soaked with sweat, making it feel as if she were swimming in water. She was in the middle of carrying a box of medicine herself, sweating profusely, when…
Flap. Someone threw open the tent flap. She looked up to see who it was… a strange face. A voice she had never heard in Chesapeake Bay. And not only that… his attire was strange. A man with his entire body thoroughly concealed by a long, flowing robe and gloves, holding a pomander³ in one hand.
“Is this the place?”
“This is it. First, let’s identify who’s in charge here…”
No… men. Dozens of men seemed to be looking for the ‘person in charge’ of this place. Eleanor, catching her breath, put down the box of medicine and walked over to them.
“Are you looking for the person in charge?”
“We are, madam. And you are…?”
“Eleanor Dare. I’m in charge here.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
They seemed not to believe that such a young woman was in charge, but after observing the gazes of those around her, they seemed to accept it and turned back to her.
“Do you have a patient? You seem to be physicians…”
“Ah, we are not here for a patient, but for a transaction. Sir Raleigh seems to be the master of this place, but he is busy and difficult to contact at the moment.”
“A… transaction?”
“Indeed.”
They each took out a rolled-up letter from their coats and presented it to her. A variety of coats of arms were visible on the seals.
“We have come on the orders of the Earl of Pembroke. His Lordship has expressed interest in the medicine distributed here.”
“We were sent by Sir John Lovell. For the same reason.”
“I am the personal physician of Sir Hawkins. I trust you have heard of Sir Hawkins’s name.”
“We also…”
“…Pardon?”
Suddenly finding herself with an armful of countless letters, a bewildered Eleanor said, “Oof,” set the letters down to one side, and asked, wiping her hands, “A… transaction for the medicine?”
“That is correct. First, please hear the price we are offering…”
“If you have a patient, they must come here in person. We have special tools for administering the medicine, so our personnel will be needed.”
“Then you can just send your personnel along with it!”
“No… that’s not what I meant…” Eleanor, feeling bewildered, continued to explain ‘kindly’ to them. This was a clinic that treated the Black Death for free, established with Sir Raleigh’s private funds. Furthermore, the personnel and equipment here could not be taken outside, and if they wished for treatment, they had to come here…
“…to ‘here’? ‘His Lordship the Earl’?”
“…Pardon?”
Though their expressions were hidden by the deep hoods of their robes, she could tell from their voices that their faces were contorted in a grimace. They were looking around, outside the tent. The slum, where beggars and prostitutes roamed.
“His Lordship the Earl cannot come to a ‘place like this.’ We will purchase the medicine at a fair price and simply receive the help of your personnel here.”
“…It seems you have not understood the explanation properly.”
“Hahaha, Mrs. Dare. It is you who has not understood the explanation properly. His Lordship desires the medicine.”
“And?”
“There is no ‘and.’ His Lordship will obtain the medicine.”
“…”
“Since personnel are also needed, we will have to invite you as well, madam. Could you perhaps come…”
“No.”
“…”
“I’m sorry, but we are short-handed here. No one can be spared from this place, and not a single vial of medicine can be moved…”
“We said we would pay a price.”
“Even so, no.”
“…”
“…”
The physicians fell silent. Eleanor, feeling a little scared as the men surrounded her, clenched her fists tightly.
“Madam. It seems you have not properly grasped the situation…”
“We could demolish a place like this, an unlicensed clinic, with little effort.”
“My good woman. I have never even heard of the Dare family. In that case, we should first show our respect and then…”
At their threatening words, Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut. And she shouted.
“No!”
Then she pushed them away and forcibly closed the tent flap. As she tied the flap shut with a rope, the physicians began to protest.
“Hey! Do you think this clinic will be safe after this!”
“Eleanor Dare, I’ve remembered your name.”
“It seems a pitiable woman will no longer have a way to live safely in London.”
“To be turned away at the door like this! Do you think the Earl of Pembroke will stand for it?!”
They were all irritatingly cliché phrases.
And…
Thump.
They were all genuinely threatening.
“…”
She knew of the Earl of Pembroke, Sir John Lovell, and Sir Hawkins. They were indeed people who could have a person named Eleanor Dare butchered in a back alley one day and thrown into the Thames.
Eleanor trembled slightly… then quickly moved to another tent.
“Now, what’s the situation…”
“…”
“…”
From Margaret to the others, everyone was just looking at her. They had all overheard the previous conversation.
“…”
“…”
“…”
“M-Mrs. Dare? What… what do we do now? Will Sir Raleigh be able to help us in time? No, even if he does, what about you, Mrs. Dare…”
“…”
Eleanor Dare thought for a moment… then forced a smile.
“Isn’t it time for that patient’s injection? Give me the syringe! Hurry!”
“Everyone. Why is the life of Jesus great?” Thomas Hewitt began his sermon with that opening. “Why is Jesus the great one, the most perfect and complete human being?”
****
“Give me the syringe. Hurry… hurry!”
“But Mrs. Dare, th-those important people from over there told us…!”
“Those people are just one person each!” Eleanor said, grabbing the arm of Margaret, whose hands were trembling. “Why won’t they come here? Why do they only ask for the medicine?”
“…Because this place is… dirty?”
“That’s right. That’s it. But we can’t leave here. There are people dying here right now.”
“…”
“What did he tell us? He told us to save them.”
“…”
“Then we have to save as many as we can. Don’t we?”
“…You’re right.”
“Give me the syringe. Hurry.”
Eleanor’s eyes wavered. Margaret hesitated… then handed over the syringe again.
***
“He was not the God of the noble. His enemies called him the God of whores and beggars. It was clearly meant as a mockery, but they would not have known. They would not have known that they had bestowed upon the King of All the greatest of royal titles. That is right. He… He is the savior of whores and beggars. He is the king of slaves and madmen, the representative of traitors and thieves and all manner of refuse.”
***
“Margaret… don’t be afraid.”
“I-I’m not afraid…”
“Don’t lie. You’re terrible at it.”
“…”
Eleanor looked at the endless stream of wretched people pouring in. They smelled of stale urine, alcohol, and garbage. She could see why they were despised in this city. They smelled. If you got close, the smell would transfer to you. Sickness would transfer, misfortune would transfer, sin would transfer.
A whore with no arms comes. A beggar who has lost a leg comes. People who you doubt have ever washed in their entire lives pour in.
“Will they blame us for treating the beggars before the nobles?”
“…What?”
“What more can they do than kill us?”
“…What?”
That’s right. At most, all they could do was kill them. That was all. All they could do was inflict pain on their bodies, kill their bodies, and prevent their bodies from being properly buried.
That’s all. That was it.
Compared to the heavenly authority that shone behind them, everything else was trivial and pathetic. Their threats were, at their core, only of that level.
“Ah, ugh… uuuugh…”
Margaret wiped a beggar’s buttocks, sobbing. She cooled a syringe that had been hastily sterilized with fire and plunged it into the beggar’s gluteus.
And so, the streptomycin was injected first into a beggar, before any duke or marquess, before any member of the gentry.
***
“The Lord is among the most vulnerable of us. Because the wealthy do not desperately need the Lord’s help. The Lord is among those who suffer and are despised. He rolls in the filthy mire with them and suffers. Because those in power do not desperately need the Lord’s word. The Lord is by their side.”
After finishing his sermon, Hewitt went outside the church and looked out at Chesapeake Bay, and at the Atlantic Ocean stretching out far to the east. Beyond that ocean were countless people. They were the ones who had entered the land of the dead called London, which was caught in the grip of the Black Death.
Without realizing it, Hewitt made the sign of the cross and murmured, “O Lord, may you always be present in the lowest of places…”
And so, may you protect your apostles.
***
“…They won’t sell the medicine?”
“That is correct. I apologize, Your Lordship.”
“Grrrn… No. It seems Sir Raleigh has made some move in advance. I don’t know what’s gotten into that man. To refuse even after being offered so much money.”
“…”
“That will be all. You’ve worked hard.”
The Earl of Pembroke, Sir John Lovell, Sir Hawkins, and countless other nobles and gentry received the news of their bitter failure in their respective homes. And they remembered the names Walter Raleigh and Eleanor Dare. The clinic could be demolished in three days, and that woman, Eleanor Dare, could be turned into an unrecognizable hunk of meat in a slum alley tomorrow. They expressed their frustration at not being able to obtain the panacea that could cure a minor skin disease or an irritating case of erectile dysfunction.
And.
They did not know that the plague germs from their physicians had been transferred to them.
For the Lord is always present in the lowest of places.
Because the wealthy and powerful do not desperately need the Lord.