Plague Doktor

C.L. Werner

Is he dead?

The question was expressed with curiosity, but no real emotion. Ernst Kahlenberg always hated the cold, acid way Manfred Grau spoke, making his words less an observation than an audible sneer. Grau had a manner of making even the darkest of lifes moments just that little bit more unpleasant by injecting a tone of bitterness and contempt.

The body strewn beside the road didnt care. It was past all caring, death rendering it immune even to Graus morbid humour. Kahlenberg turned the corpse onto its side, rolling it over so that his companion could see the long, vicious slashes. The bodys back resembled something from a butchers shop, many of the wounds so deep that bits of bone stood exposed.

Yes, I imagine that would be enough to kill somebody, Grau quipped, turning his eyes away from the gruesome sight. What do you think, Ernst? Was our friend here killed by wolves, or maybe a panther?

Kahlenberg shook his head. He doesnt look to have been gnawed on, he reported. As he spoke, Kahlenbergs body stiffened, his legs clicking together with studied military precision. The gesture brought a wry smile to Graus face. Kahlenberg quickly relaxed, chiding himself for slipping into old habits. There was no reason for such formality, not with Grau. Not with anybody.

Id say the wounds were made by a blade, Kahlenberg continued.

Nonsense! Grau protested. The mans been cut up like mutton. Seated in the box of a ramshackle wagon, Grau made an expansive gesture with his arm, indicating the rest of the roadway. The road was littered with a motley collection of oddments  coils of rope, bolts of cheap cloth, bits and pieces of battered tinware. A small oxcart leaned against the bole of an oak, its yoke cracked but otherwise looking quite serviceable. There isnt a bandit or goblin in this corner of Talabecland that would leave all this loot lying around!

Kahlenberg walked towards the wagon. He was a tall, powerfully built man, tall enough to stare Grau in the eye, even with the older man seated atop the wagon. I think I know a thing or two about sword wounds. I should know one when I see it. He pointed a finger back at the body. You should know a few things too, unless youve managed to drink that away too. Go have a look at him yourself if you dont trust me.

Grau scowled, his sharp features displaying the disgust Kahlenbergs suggestion provoked. He cast a wary glance at the corpse, then turned away. Ive put that sort of thing behind me, Ernst, he said. Grau reached beneath the wooden seat and retrieved a clay bottle. With practised ease, he removed the stopper with his thumb and pressed the vessel to his lips. Ive no more stomach for that kind of work. His Most Beneficent Excellency Emperor Boris saw to that.

So now you hide in a bottle, Kahlenberg challenged.

Arching his eyebrow, Grau directed a withering stare at the big man. And you? Is your hiding place any purer than mine? Dont moralise with me, Ernst! I know you too well for that.

Kahlenberg glared at Grau, the last shreds of dignity and self-respect struggling to assert themselves. It was a battle he knew was lost even as he started. He didnt have enough honour left in him to argue, not least because the viper-tongued Grau was right. Kahlenberg was hiding, hiding from his past, from the things he had done and the things he should have done. Hindsight was the most terrible curse the gods could lay upon a mans mind.

When you are through deciding if you want to wring my neck, Grau said, you might go and have a look at the bric-a-brac our friend has left all over the road. Perhaps some of it might be worth selling.

Dont we have enough already? Kahlenberg asked, waving his hand at the bed of the wagon. The platform was piled high with dented helms and rusty bits of armour, notched swords and splintered shields. The pile represented the pickings of numerous battlefields and graveyards. Grau was a scavenger as cunning as any vulture, seemingly able to smell out a fresh corpse a league away.

Or perhaps that was giving the old villain too much credit. With plague rife throughout the land, it didnt take any exceptional skill to find death. Morrs scythe had reaped a grim harvest from Sudenland to Sylvania, depopulating entire towns and turning the cities into diseased charnel houses. Kahlenberg felt his gorge rise at the obscenities which were part and parcel of the scavengers trade. Ostensibly, Grau was a wandering peddler, selling second-hand weapons and armour. Exactly how second-hand his wares were was something his patrons were better off not knowing.

Emperor Boris has the fattest purse in the land and he shows no sign of being content, Grau said. Are you suggesting that we poor vagabonds are more altruistic than our beloved Emperor?

Save the speeches, Kahlenberg said, his voice bitter with shame. He started gathering up the rubbish littering the road.

Dont forget his pockets, Grau called down from the wagon, pointing at the body beside the road.

Kahlenberg threw down the ratty sheet of linen he was holding. Do your own dirty work, he snapped.

Grau stared at the corpse, his face twisting with revulsion. He took a swallow from his bottle. Wiping beads of alcohol from his moustache, he turned his gaze on Kahlenberg. Were going to have to discuss our working arrangement. I think youve forgotten whos in charge.

You need me more than I need you, Kahlenberg retorted. How long do you think youd last travelling from town to town by yourself?

The suggestion caused some of the flush to drain from Graus cheeks. He tried to brush aside his companions threat. I can find another sellsword anytime I like. Suddenly he forgot his argument with Kahlenberg. Standing up, he gestured excitedly at an object lying under the oxcart.

Kahlenberg responded with calculated slowness, knowing every moment of delay would infuriate Grau. The old scavenger hopped up and down, hock spilling from the clay bottle as he entreated his bodyguard to hurry.

Eventually, Kahlenberg reached the cart. Stooping, he crawled behind the cart wheel and dragged a heavy box out from under the wreck. His calloused hand stroked the fine leather covering, his eyes lingered over the gilt lettering and the little steel clasp locking the box. The lettering meant nothing to him, but he could appreciate the finery of the workmanship. Hed been playing the role of looter and scavenger too long not to have gained a thiefs eye for valuables.

Bring it here! Grau ordered.

This time Kahlenberg acted without reluctance, as eager as his employer to see what they had found. He handed the box up to Grau. The older man gave it a cursory glance, then brought a dagger scratching against the steel clasp. It was the work of a few minutes to get the box open, the blade scratching and slashing the expensive leather.

When the box was open, Grau uttered a snarl of outrage.

Cut yourself? Kahlenberg wondered.

No, Grau hissed back. His lean hand dipped into the box, removing a black leather hat. Kahlenberg recognised the style as that employed solely by the Physicians Guild, though hed never seen one of them in black before. Grau had worn such clothes once.

Any gold? Kahlenberg asked.

No, Grau repeated. No silver either, just a bunch of crude medical instruments, waxed cloak and gloves. The old man laughed bitterly, reaching down into the bag again and removing a strange leather mask that resembled the beaked visage of a raven. Our late friend appears to have been a plague doktor.

Plague doktor?

Grau stuffed the ugly mask back into the box. I dont suppose you saw their sort at the Reiksguard barracks. You had the services of the Temple of Shallya and real physicians to hold back the plague. Well, for all those villeins and peasants who dont have the privilege of nobility and wealth, they try to stave off the plague with plague doktors. A rabble of quacks and charlatans who fleece the desperate and the dying.

Sounds profitable, Kahlenberg observed.

Grau fixed him with a withering stare. The people we injure are already dead, he snapped, closing the box and dropping it into the bed of the wagon. Angrily he cracked the reins and the wagon jolted off down the road.

The wagon sloshed its way along the muddy mire that passed itself off as the main street of Amorbach. Chickens scattered before the hooves of Graus horse, cackling in protest as they darted through the gaps in wattle fences or fluttered up onto the earthen roofs of half-buried grubhuts. A fat old sow waddled indolently across their path, pausing to nose about in the mud until the wagon was almost upon her. A splotchy cat, lazing in the brick doorway of a storehouse, twitched its tail and watched as the two strangers rode deeper into the town.

Of any human inhabitants, however, there was no sign.

This place looks abandoned, Kahlenberg said, his fingers drumming against the sword sheathed at his side.

Grau simply uttered one of his grim chuckles. You need to get out more, he berated his companion. See a bit of the world. The scavengers voice dropped to a venomous pitch. Spend some time in Sylvania where the Death has been at work. Youll see plenty of deserted villages there. Youd know what desolation looks like. The houses smashed in and ransacked, the streets strewn with garbage, wolves prowling about. Theres a feeling to such places that cant be forgotten and cant be mistaken.

Then where are all the people? Kahlenberg persisted. We cant exactly sell swords to chickens and pigs. He looked across the buildings on either side of the road. Most of them were grubhuts, crude shelters sunk into pits with a simple gabled roof rising above it. There were only a few real buildings, most of them built from wattle and daub. Interspersed among the buildings was a crazed confusion of pig sties, chicken coops, turnip patches and cabbage fields. A handful of sheep were even in evidence, grazing in a little field bordered by hedges.

Grau raised his hand, motioning Kahlenberg to keep quiet. The old man turned his head to one side and closed his eyes. Do you hear that? he asked, a smug smile on his face.

With Graus prompting, Kahlenberg found that he did hear a faint noise, a murmur of voices coming to them from some distance away.

They sound angry, Kahlenberg offered.

Good, Grau said, cracking the reins. Angry people will be interested in swords and armour. He cast a despairing look over the sprawl of grubhuts and gardens. Though whether any of them can afford to patronise us looks to be questionable.

The wagon rattled off down the muddy lane. Neither of the men noticed the cat in the doorway suddenly spring to its feet, arching its back and spitting at something in the shadows beside the storehouse. The cats fright sent it yowling off across a cabbage patch.

Beady red eyes watched the animal flee, then returned their interest to the wagon. Only when it disappeared around the corner did the eyes withdraw, slipping back into the darkness.

The wagon came to a stop when it reached the sprawling mire which served Amorbach as its town square. A big old oak tree, its trunk discoloured by fungus and rot, loomed above the muddy morass, a wooden gibbet swinging from its thickest branch. The crumbling remains of a skeleton grinned from inside the cage, its eyeless sockets staring down at the people gathered below.

No question now where the denizens of Amorbach had gone. The growling mob scattered about the square numbered in the hundreds. Kahlenberg saw husky farmers brandishing pitchforks and wizened weavers waving bludgeons over their heads. A tangle of shepherds dressed in woollen breeks and sheepskin boots had begun fashioning torches from strips of cloth and slats torn from the roof of a grubhut bordering the square. A handful of men in armour were visible, their simple suits of brigandine sporting the heraldry of Baron von Greitz, but these worthies didnt seem inclined to stop the unrest. Far from it, their voices were among the loudest in the mob.

The focus of the violence was a lone man dressed in a black cassock trimmed in scarlet. A heavy chain circled his waist and from one of the links a large copper hammer hung. The brand of a twin-tailed comet was burned into the mans shaven pate, the mark made all the more visible as blood from his bruised scalp trickled into the old scar. Rocks, heads of cabbage, even live chickens pelted the man as he tried to face the mob. Each time he raised his voice, he tried to read from the book clenched in his hand, but a fresh barrage of rubbish forced him to retreat.

Take Sigmar back to Altdorf! a snaggle-toothed cotter roared. Or has Boris taxed all the gods from the capital?

Sigmar is the light and the shield, the beleaguered man declared. He is the protector

Tell that to my Hilda! raged a wart-nosed woman, her face contorted with pain and fury. Tell that to all the children whove died!

Wheres your gods mercy? mocked one of the shepherds. Wheres Sigmars protection when we need it? Why cant he stop the plague?

A hulking virgater, his beefy hands wrapped about the heft of a double-headed wood axe swaggered from the crowd. Things are worse than ever because of you! You and all your talk about Sigmar! What have we to do with Sigmar? Taal and Rhya are our gods, not some mouldering old Emperor none of us has seen!

You brought the plague upon us! snapped a wiry little sokeman. You stirred up the spirits of the night and caused them to set a miasma upon the town!

The Sigmarite shielded himself with his arms as a rain of rocks clattered around him. He tried to shout down his accusers, but even as he moved to defend himself, the mob closed upon him. The hulking virgater drove the peen of his axe into the Sigmarites belly, doubling him over. A pair of shepherds moved to seize their helpless prey.

Grau cursed under his breath as the wagon suddenly lurched. Kahlenberg leapt to the ground, his sword in his hand almost before his boots sank into the mud. Let it be, man! Grau called out. This isnt Reikland, and by the gods this isnt our business!

Kahlenberg ignored his comrade. Boldly he shoved his way through the mob. Surprised villeins and cotters scrambled out of his way, the sight of a sword, not to mention the grim air of authority which the tall man exuded, making them give ground. He was beside the oak in only a moment, his powerful hand closing about the wool hood of one of the shepherds moving to seize the embattled Sigmarite. Savagely, Kahlenberg pulled the peasant away, flinging him to tumble across the muddy square.

The other shepherd forgot about the Sigmarite and rushed at Kahlenberg, swinging his heavy crook at the interloper. It was the sort of manoeuvre that had crippled wolves and warded off panthers, but this was a different kind of foe. Kahlenbergs blade licked out, slashing through the crook and splitting it in half. The shepherd staggered back, eyes wide with shock. Kahlenberg watched him carefully, waiting for any sign that the peasant still wanted to fight.

Who be ye? growled the husky virgater. Though the man still held his axe, he had taken a good number of steps back, putting himself closer to the rest of the mob.

Someone who doesnt like seeing priests abused by a superstitious rabble, Kahlenberg growled back. It was the wrong thing to say. The insult struck fire in the still smouldering embers. Angry murmurs spread through the crowd. The bodyguard was, after all, only one man.

Stay behind me, father, Kahlenberg told the Sigmarite. Slowly the two men began backing away from the advancing mob. They could hear Grau cursing lividly as some of the peasants converged upon his wagon. Despite his best efforts, he couldnt keep them from rifling his wares.

Your bravery will not go unnoticed, the Sigmarite told Kahlenberg. We shall both sit at Sigmars right hand this night and shine in the glory of the divine personage.

Id prefer if Sigmar would do something to extend my time in this life, Kahlenberg said.

Suddenly, a cry went up from the peasants around the wagon. They scurried away from Grau like a pack of whipped curs. One of them ran over to the hulking virgater and held a quick conference with him and the wiry sokeman. Both men raised their voices in angry shouts, calling the mob to keep its peace. Kahlenberg and the priest could only watch dumbfounded as the ringleaders of the mob marched over to Graus wagon. The sokeman knelt in the mud, recovering the leather box from where the rummaging peasants had dropped it. He glanced inside, then hurriedly closed the case. Deferentially, he strode over and handed the box up to Grau.

Forgive us, herr doktor, the sokeman said. But how could we know it was you!

Kahlenberg stared in confusion at the peasants words, but if Grau was surprised, the old scavenger gave no sign. A scowl on his face, he reached down and took the box from the sokeman. Did you expect me to come riding into this town dressed in black? he challenged. That would help the reputation of Amorbach! Let every village and hamlet in the province know theres a beak doctor in the town and see how quick they find a new market for their crops!

The words had their desired effect. A new fear worked its way onto the faces of the mob. They hadnt considered that the presence of the plague in their community would make their neighbours shun them. With so many of the townsmen stricken, Amorbach was more dependent than ever upon trade with the outside world. The wisdom and foresight of Graus discretion impressed them almost beyond words.

Forgive us, Herr Doktor Tanz, the big virgater pleaded. We didnt think. He waved his huge hands, gesturing at the crowd. Fifteen have already fallen to the Death and another thirty are sick. We didnt know what to do! We were afraid you werent coming! That you took our retainer and decided to stay in Morburg



I am here now, Grau announced. He reached into the box, removing the black physicians hat and setting it on his head. Who is in charge here? he asked.

The bailiffs dead, the little sokeman said. And the beadle is sick. A nervous twitch pulled at his face. I

I guess that means

Im in charge.

And you are? Grau demanded, arching one of his eyebrows in an expectant glower.

Fechner, the little man answered. Im the cart-reeve.

Hes the only able-bodied man left in the town who was appointed by Baron von Greitz, the virgater explained. But if you need anything done, just ask me. He tapped a hand against his brawny chest. Gottlob Boltzmann.

Grau favoured the self-important Boltzmann with a thin smile. Very well, friend Boltzmann. I will need suitable accommodation for my assistant and myself. I take it you have initiated steps to sequester the infected? Good. You will see that my quarters are established away from the area where the sick are housed. I will need chambers large enough to conduct my examinations and a place to secure my

instruments, he said, gesturing to the scavenged weapons and armour in the wagon behind him.

Everything will be done, herr doktor, Fechner said, bowing low before the wagon. You will have the finest Amorbach has to offer.

I am accustomed to nothing less, Grau told the cart-reeve.

When will you begin your work? Boltzmann asked.

Grau shot the virgater an annoyed look. In the morning, he stated. The road has been long and I am weary. Moreover, the reception we received did not agree with my assistant. He will need time to compose himself before he can aid me in my examinations.

The attention of the mob drifted back towards the centre of the square where Kahlenberg and the priest stood with their backs to the oak. Slowly, the bodyguard sheathed his sword.

I think youll be safe now, he told the Sigmarite, clapping his hand on the clerics shoulder. The priest pulled away, glaring at his former protector.

Keep your unclean foulness off me! the man spat. Plague doktors! Vultures! Graveyard rats! He clenched his hands into fists, shaking them at the sky. Is it not enough that misery has set its talons upon this community, must you compound their misfortune!

The crowd stared icily at the raging priest. What do you want us to do about that fool, herr doktor? Boltzmann asked Grau.

Grau smiled and rubbed his chin, a malicious twinkle in his eye. It is bad form to strike priests and madmen, he said. Even when they are one and the same. Let him talk. It doesnt mean any of you have to listen. After all, his god hasnt stopped the plague.

That is why I am here.

Grau stretched out in the enormous bed, sighing contentedly. He reached over to the taboret set beside the bed and wrapped his hands around a flagon of wine. A shaky hand brought the vessel to his lips and managed to pour more of the red liquid into his mouth than onto the fur blankets. Grau smacked his lips when the flagon was empty, hurling the depleted vessel away with exuberant gusto.

By Ranald! he roared. Did you ever see such a spectacle! The whole town eating out of my hand like I was the Emperor himself! He leaned up from the bed, focusing his stare on Kahlenberg seated in a chair near the window. Grau wagged his finger at the warrior. Do you know I could have asked any one of those superstitious wretches to send his daughter up here tonight and they would have called it a great honour! By Ranald, if I could have been sure they werent sick, Id have tried it!

Grau sat up straighter, a frown forming. Through the veil of alcohol, he was slow to appreciate the sullen disapproval exuding from his comrade. Oh cheer up, you idiot! he snarled. Too much marching and discipline has ruined you! I knew youd been in the Reiksguard a damn sight too long!

Kahlenberg rose from the chair, his fists clenched at his side. You go too far, herr doktor. Id mind my tongue.

A caustic chuckle answered the threat. If not for me, youd be lying in the Kaiserplatz with your belly split open. Just another victim of the Bread March.

Bread Massacre, Kahlenberg growled. Emperor Boris turned out his Kaiserjaeger on the petitioners. Rode them down. He smashed his fist against the wall. Gave them steel instead of rye.

It was the Reiksguards duty to stand beside the Kaiserjaeger, Grau declared, his tone like a lash. Not to support the rioters. Can you blame the Emperor for treating you like a traitor? The sardonic levity drained from Graus voice. Of course Im a traitor too. Helping a dying knight when I should have left his carcass in the street for the muckrakers to haul away. But for that failing of conscience, I might be attending the capitals great and good, a respected chiurgeon



So instead you decide to play at being a plague doktor, Kahlenberg said. What was it you told me about looting the dead? That we cant injure them any further?

These people are already dead, Grau rose from the bed, swaying unsteadily on his feet. They just dont know it yet. He kicked the leather box which bore the name of Doctor Tanz. Theres no curative for the Black Death, even the Sisters of Shallya cant stop it. If the gods cant put an end to the plague, what can mere men do?

Grau opened the box and removed the leather mask, his hand caressing the grotesque beak. What can men do? We can help the doomed by giving them hope, making them believe they can be saved.

And for that, you will charge them handsomely.

Everything, Grau said. Everything this town has to offer. Im not some vagabond scavenger now, Ernst! Im Herr Doktor Tanz, master of life and death!

Kahlenberg stalked from the room, feeling sickness growing in the pit of his stomach. How does it feel, Manfred? How does it feel to be so damned important?

Grau removed another bottle from the taboret. Unable to manipulate the stopper, he smashed the neck across the bedstead. Good, Ernst, he chuckled, taking a swig from the bottle. It feels damned good!

The plague doktor sank back onto the fur-strewn bed, laughing as the outraged knight left the room. However much Kahlenberg detested him, Grau knew the knight would stay by his side. There was a debt of honour between them, an obligation that Kahlenberg couldnt cast aside. No, his comrade would help him carry out this charade. And when Amorbach had given Grau all it had to offer, Kahlenberg would accompany him to the next town, and the one after that. And the one after that. That was one good thing about the plague  there was no shortage of desperate people willing to do anything and believe anything to escape its toils.

As he drifted into an inebriated slumber, Grau fancied he heard the shutters over the window creak open. He had the impression of scratchy voices whispering from somewhere inside the room. He tried to make out what they were saying, but couldnt make sense of the sounds. The effort only fatigued him all the more and soon he was asleep.

The people of Amorbach kept their distance the next day as Grau and Kahlenberg marched down the muddy street. Grau had donned the regalia of the late Tanz, his lean body cloaked in the black raiment of the plague doktor. A long black coat swathed his body, covering him from shoulders to ankles. Thick black leggings, heavy boots and long gloves covered what parts of his body the coat left exposed. A hood covered his head, over which Grau wore a physicians wide-brimmed hat. Coat, hood, leggings, boots and gloves were all fashioned from waxed leather, glistening with a watery sheen as the sunlight struck the plague doktors costume.

Over his face, Grau wore the raven-like mask, its long beak stuffed with roses, camphor and orange blossoms, their pleasant aroma intended to counteract the infectious reek of pestilence and decay. Tiny glass lenses set to either side of the beak provided the plague doktor his view of the world.

As Grau marched through the streets, vinegar-soaked sponges jounced from straps fastened to the shoulders of his coat and tiny copper bells jangled from the fringe of his hood. Waxed parchment seals, some bearing the symbols of Shallya the goddess of healing and mercy, others invoking grim Morr, god of death and dream, fluttered from the belt circling Graus waist. In his hand, the plague doktor carried a slender wooden cane carved into the shape of a cormorant, one end taking the shape of the birds curled beak, the other formed into a spread talon.

Kahlenberg followed close behind Grau, carrying the plague doktors leather box. Reticent about aiding his companion in this cruel deception, the knight couldnt quite keep his distaste for the task ahead from his face.

Cheer up, Grau advised, his voice muffled by the mask. Well visit a few sickhouses, mutter a bit of impressive doggerel, play up to a few peasant superstitions and then be on our way. Just remember, dont touch anything when we get where were going.

Shallya have mercy on us, Kahlenberg groaned.

Grau stopped, turning to stare at his comrade. Though his face was obscured by the mask, Kahlenberg knew there was a sneer on the plague doktors face. Why wont she? Isnt that her job?

The men proceeded down the street. Turning down a narrow lane, they noticed a change in the atmosphere, an air not simply of squalor and poverty, but one of decay. The sunken grubhuts now bore white chalkmarks upon their doors. As they walked along, they saw a pair of men hauling a body from one of the huts, employing meathooks to speed their labour. Unceremoniously the men dumped the body onto a cart, then stripped off their gloves and threw them after the corpse.

Theyll be off to soak themselves in vinegar next, Grau said, tapping one of the sponges hanging from his coat. Its supposed to fend off miasma, though I imagine some vinegar merchant was the first to make such a claim.

Kahlenberg watched the corpse-cart slowly creep down the lane. Monstrous, was the only word he could use to describe the scene. Hed seen much brutality over his life, but there was something chilling about the callous way the peasants had treated their dead neighbour.

I dare say before the local priest of Morr died, they treated corpses with a bit more formality, Grau observed. Of course, when that worthy himself died of the plague it may have diminished the appeal of pomp and ceremony. The beaked face turned suddenly, focusing on one of the few half-timber structures rising above the grubhuts. Ah, here we are! Grau announced. Lets see if we cant do something to help Amorbachs beadle. I dare say it would be amusing to get somebody more competent than Fechner running things here.

Using the beaked head of his cane, Grau rapped on the door, knocking chalk dust from the mark scrawled across the portal. After a few moments, the door was opened by a young girl, her face retaining an element of beauty despite the paleness of her skin and the leanness of her features. By the quality of her dress, it was obvious that she was no mere domestic but someone of standing within the household.

She drew back in alarm when she found Graus ghoulish figure standing beyond the doorway, but the girl quickly recovered. Everyone in the town knew the plague doktor had come to help them. However frightening his appearance, she recognised Grau as a messenger of hope, not menace.

Forgive me, herr doktor, the girl said, curtseying before him. Please, come inside. I cannot thank you enough for coming.

Grau slipped across the threshold, motioning for Kahlenberg to follow. I am given to understand that Otto Sandauer is an important man in Amorbach. Where better to begin than with the towns most important inhabitant?

The girl lowered her eyes in a demure fashion. You are kind to say so, but my father was only the beadle. He wasnt very important at all

until

until



We understand, Grau said. He stopped himself before reaching out to comfort the upset girl. The plague has spared neither great nor small. But perhaps we can prevent Death from claiming your father. He gestured with his cane, pointing down the narrow hallway. If you would take me to your father.

The flash of hope that stirred in the girls eyes stabbed at Kahlenbergs heart like a dagger. He grabbed Grau by the shoulder, hissing a warning into his ear.

Leave? the plague doktor scoffed. And disappoint this poor waif? Now which of us is being cruel?

Grau let his bodyguard digest that question while he turned and followed the young woman down a clay-walled hallway and into a small chamber at the rear of the house. The room was dark, heavy curtains blocking the only window, but at Graus suggestion, the girl quickly produced a candle.

By the flickering light, Grau saw his patient. He was thankful for the aromatic smells rising from the beak of his mask, because he certainly didnt think hed like the smell of his patient. What sort of man Otto Sandauer might have been before he took sick it was impossible for Grau to say, but what lay sprawled among the soiled bedclothes was a withered scarecrow with wasted features, toothless gums and only a few thin strands of hair clinging to his scalp. His limbs were almost as thin around as the plague doktors cane and Grau could almost count the wretchs ribs through the grimy material of his nightshirt.

Can you help him? the girl pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes.

Grau gestured with his cane, motioning for her to pull the sheet away from her father. I must first determine what is wrong with him, he said. The effects of miasma can take many forms.

The plague doktor stepped over to the bed. The man lying there barely seemed to register Graus presence, simply staring up at the ceiling. His breathing was laboured, each ragged gasp appearing to come with only the greatest exertion.

Grau reversed his grip on the cane, using the clawed foot to tilt Sandauers head, allowing him to see the swollen throat. A loud scrambling noise from overhead distracted the plague doktor. He stared intently at the ceiling, listening as the raucous sounds continued. It was as if a gaggle of children were scurrying across the roof. Remembering he was in a proper house, not a sunken grubhut, Grau dismissed the image.

Rats, the girl apologised. They are all over Amorbach these days. Bigger and bolder than they have ever been.

Grau nodded and returned his attentions to his patient. Using the cane, he pulled back Sandauers nightshirt, exposing his chest. Prodding the sick mans body, he was soon afforded a good view of the swollen black buboes clustered about the armpits. A dark liquid was oozing from the sores. Grau had seen enough of the plague over the last year to be surprised the man had lasted this long in such a condition.

It is the Death, the plague doktor pronounced. His statement brought a moan of horror from the girl. Grau shifted his gaze to Kahlenberg, who was standing just outside the doorway of the squalid little room. Annoyed by his companions glowering disapproval, Grau made a quick decision.

All hope is not lost, Grau assured the girl. There are measures which we can take to combat the miasma. He snapped his gloved fingers, waving Kahlenberg into the room. Approaching his reluctant assistant, Grau opened the leather box, removing a small wooden case. From this, he removed a bloated toad. Setting the noxious creature on the floor, he gestured with his cane for the girl to take it. We must try to rebalance your fathers humours. Tie this reptile to your fathers sores. It will draw out the pernicious effects of the miasma. The plague doktor nodded his beaked head. You must also take steps to prevent more malignant vapours from entering this house. He raised his finger, emphasising the importance of this point. Soak cloth in vinegar and place it beneath every door and across every windowsill. The purifying scent of the vinegar will stave off the miasma.

A stream of gratitude exploded from the girl as tears welled up in her eyes. She moved to take Graus hand and kiss it, but the plague doktor held her back with a jab of his cane. The eyes behind the glass lenses of the mask were wide with terror.

Open your bodice, Grau ordered. He heard the sullen growl of protest Kahlenberg uttered but gave his guard no notice. This wasnt some lascivious abuse of his authority. There was a much more important reason for voicing such a command.

Timidly, the girl pulled at the drawstring and opened the front of her dress. Irritated by the slowness of her compliance, Grau reached out with the beaked head of his cane and pulled the garment away. He didnt give any regard to the milk-pale curves and contours that stood exposed, his eyes instead fixed upon the swollen black bumps beneath her arms.

Please, dont

dont tell anyone, the girl pleaded. There is an old cotter-wife who brings us food. If she knew I was sick too, she would stop coming.

Dont worry, we wont say anything, Kahlenberg told her.

Grau reached into the wood case and removed a second toad, setting the creature down on the floor. Follow my prescription and in a few days you will be out of harm, he told her. Again, he noted the scratching noises from overhead. Once you are both back on your feet, you should do something about your rat problem. Grau tapped the end of his cane against the floor, and waved his hand in the age-old sign of good fortune.

My associate will collect our fee, Grau said.

Kahlenberg maintained a sullen silence as the two men withdrew from the doomed household and returned to the muddy streets of Amorbach. Grau walked ahead of the glowering knight, growing more irritated with his companion with each step. Pangs of conscience were something Grau couldnt afford, not since his exile from Altdorf. If a man was going to survive in the world, then he had to be just as ruthless as it was.

Theyre both going to die anyway, Grau stated. At least I gave them a little hope to cling to in their final hours.

Kahlenberg didnt say anything, simply glaring daggers at the plague doktor.

Youre upset about the money, arent you? Grau asked. If I hadnt charged her a fee, she wouldnt have believed a word I said. Theres a certain propriety about these things. The plague doktor swatted a stone from the street with his cane. You would prefer I left everything for Boltzmann and Fechner to squabble over? If you want a pair of vultures, theres a matched set for you!

It isnt right, Kahlenberg growled. You took advantage of them in the most cruel way



Right? Grau shouted. Who are you to decide what is right! You rode out to help starving people stand up against a grasping tyrant and for that you were left to die in the gutter! Is that right? Learn one thing if nothing else, Ernst. The gods care little for men and even less for the suffering we endure. To survive, you have to take every opportunity that comes your



Grau left his cynical wisdom unspoken, his words trailing off into a scream of pain that even the heavy beak mask couldnt muffle. The plague doktor collapsed to the muddy street, his gloved hands clutching at the jagged wound in his side, his eyes staring in disbelief at the blood coating his fingers.

Kahlenberg threw down the heavy leather box, the apparatus of the late Doktor Tanz spilling across the ground. The knight ripped his sword from its scabbard, a motion that was driven more by instinct than by thought. For as he gazed upon the monstrous apparition standing over Grau, terror welled up inside the warriors breast and fear thundered through his veins.

They had been passing down a dingy lane that coiled its way through a cluster of grubhuts. Except for a few wandering chickens, the street had been devoid of any sign of life. Here, nearly every door bore the chalkmark sign of infection and if there were any still living in this part of town, they kept themselves behind closed doors.

One denizen, however, had not stuck to this rule. As Grau walked near to a particularly ramshackle and decayed grubhut, a shape had burst from the structures rotten roof. A blur of motion and it was upon the plague doktor, steel flashing from a long hairy hand.

No, not a hand. A paw, a filthy, verminous paw covered in greasy brown fur, each finger tipped with a long dirty claw. Graus attacker wasnt human, or indeed any sort of creature endowed with life by any god of sanity. It was a rat, a huge chittering rodent that compounded its obscenity by affecting the posture of a man and clothing its furry body in tattered rags and bits of armour. The curved sword in the monsters paw was rusty with neglect, its edge notched and pitted with corrosion. Blood dripped from the blade, the blood of Manfred Grau.

Kahlenberg had fought orcs and goblins and the foul beastkin of the wilds, but never had he imagined so repugnant a nightmare could walk the earth. The ratman bared its sharp fangs at him, its beady eyes gleaming with unbridled malignance. A long, hairless tail lashed through the mud, writhing with loathsome exuberance.

A pained moan from Grau snapped Kahlenberg from the spell of terror that gripped him. He owed his life to the physician, whatever crimes and misdeeds stained the plague doktors soul. Roaring the name of Ulric, god of warriors, Kahlenberg charged the leering monstrosity.

The ratman snarled at him, whipping its sword at Kahlenbergs face with a speed that was nothing short of incredible. Ironically, it was the very speed with which the creature made its assault that caused the blow to miss its victim, the bloodied edge of the sword flashing inches before the charging knights eyes. The warrior drove on, sweeping in before the ratman could recover from its mistake. Kahlenberg brought his heavy steel chopping down at the monsters skull.

Again, the amazing speed of the ratman was displayed. Uttering a squeal of fright, the hideous creature dropped to all fours and darted to one side. Kahlenbergs sword cleaved through nothing more substantial than thin air, the fury of his attack almost causing the knight to flounder and topple into the mud.

His foe was instantly rushing him, trying to exploit the advantage of an off-balance and vulnerable adversary. Kahlenberg kicked out with his boot, smashing the monsters fanged muzzle. The ratman was hurled backwards, whining and squealing as it spit out broken teeth.

Kahlenberg raised his sword, prepared to deal final justice to the cringing ratman. As he turned towards the creature, however, he felt a flash of pain in his back. The warrior spun about, his blade slicing through the air. A second ratman ducked and scurried, a chitter of laughter hissing through its fangs. It held a ripple-bladed dagger in its paw, a dagger that was dark with blood. Kahlenbergs blood.

The warrior could feel strength and vitality draining out of his body. The slinking attacker had struck a mortal blow. But while there was still life in his bones, the knight would fight on his feet. Honour would demand nothing less.

We are even now, Kahlenberg told Grau. He made a weak wave of his hand, motioning the plague doktor to hurry down the street. Feebly, Grau regained his feet. He gripped the slender cane in his hands, holding it as though to brain one of the creeping ratmen. Kahlenberg noted the gesture and shook his head. Run, he ordered. I wont be able to keep them back long. A bitter laugh bubbled past his lips. Im already dead.

Hearing his own words thrown back at him was enough to break the heroic resolve that had so briefly risen inside Graus breast. The plague doktor knew Kahlenberg was right. Standing beside his friend would only see them both die needlessly. Pragmatism drove Grau into headlong flight. Behind him he could hear the clash of steel as battle was rejoined.

The plague doktor didnt look back.

Every step sent fresh agony searing through Graus body. He cast aside his cane, clapping both hands to the wound in his side. He could feel fresh blood spurting between his fingers, defying his efforts to pinch the jagged tear closed. Without help, Grau knew he couldnt last long.

However long the plague doktor thought he had, he found himself cheated. As he limped down the muddy lane, a scraggly shape draped in ratty rags scurried from its hiding place inside a haystack. There was a sword gripped in the things paws, the edge serrated like the blade of a saw.

Grau recoiled from the ratman, terror pounding in his heart. The creature raised its muzzle, its nose twitching as it drank the smell of his fear. A peal of merciless laughter shook the hunched vermin.

Leave me alone! Grau pleaded as the ratman crept towards him. Ive done nothing to you!

The monster paused and again its body shook with laughter. To Graus mounting horror, the thing spoke to him in a debased Reikspiel. Doctor-thing, the ratman accused, pointing a claw at the man. No-not forget smell-scent! Kill-slay one doctor-meat! Now-now kill-kill two doctor-meat!

Why! Grau persisted. Why kill me? I havent hurt you!

Cocking its head to one side, the ratman fixed Grau with beady red eyes. Listen-hear much-much! the creature spat. Know-learn doctor-thing help-heal man-things. Stop-stop pretty plague!

Furry lips pulled back, exposing sharp fangs in a savage grin. Doctor-meat no-not stop-stop plague!

The ratman retreated a few steps as Grau began to laugh. Its bestial mind wouldnt have appreciated the irony the way Grau did. He was going to die because of a lie, because when he told the people of Amorbach he could save their town, they werent the only ones who had believed him.

The ratman quickly recovered from his confusion. Whatever sounds Grau made, they didnt change the fact that the man was wounded and alone. Those were odds to spark the ferocity of any murderer.

It wasnt long before the plague doktor was nothing more than a heap of bloodied flesh lying in the mud. The townsmen would blame the murders of Grau and Kahlenberg on the Sigmarite missionary, remembering the priests antagonism towards the plague doktor. Under the instigation of Boltzmann and Fechner, they would mob the priest and burn him on a pyre.

No one in Amorbach considered that the plague doktor had fallen victim to a different enemy.

None of them would have believed that Grau and Kahlenberg had died under the swords of the skaven.