Wild Black Roses Prologue

Prologue
London - August 10, 1348


         It was a dark and perilous time. The streets of London were littered with the bodies of the dead that had yet to be disposed of. The retched stink of the dead filled the air like smoke. You could see the constant fear on the faces of the people that quickly walked through town, always glancing over their shoulders as if in constant anticipation of attack. No one thought this odd, as they all did it; what they waited for were the tell-tale signs of the black pustule, a slight elevation of the skin filled with puss. This was the only symptom that could only be attributed to the Black Death Plague. Finding these black pustules on your body was like receiving a death sentence. Trenches were being dug up around town in the attempt to rid the city of the bodies in the hope that there would be no more.
         The only thing that seemed to get people talking amongst themselves again was a small boy of maybe eleven or twelve years of age. No one knew who the boy was, but he had walked up and down the streets of London for six days straight. His clothes were not of the sort that would blend in on the streets of London. They had a rich quality to them that could only belong to a member of the aristocracy. No one would go near the child, not caring if he had money hidden on his person or not. The fear of the Black Death kept them at a distance. The fear of the plague had overruled the agony of their empty stomachs. All that the street urchins knew for certain was that he did not belong among them.
         The boy had scruffy brown curls atop his head that would one day make him look devilishly handsome if he made it to manhood. Though his eyes were sad blue ponds of despair, in them you could see his lose. Maybe this is what kept the poor of the street enthralled. It became his good fortune that they feared him so much, in any other case he would never have survived so long on the streets.
         His name was Edmund Burgess and though he remained forgotten by his own kind, his father was the Earl of Devonshire. He had walked the streets since he had witnessed the horrible death of his mother. He knew his father was somewhere out there searching for him; he just didn’t know where. How would he ever find his way? Though authorities would probably assume the death of Virginia Burgess had been her suicide at the realization that she had begun to show signs of the plague, the small boy knew better. He had been there to witness what had truly happened, and if he saw a man of God at that moment he would run in terror.
         It was on this day that two things happened that would forever change the young boy’s life. The first thing happened that morning as the young boy wandered down the street like the days before that, but this morning his eyes caught the head-line of a discarded newspaper. The headline read:
         Earl of Devonshire Killed in Brawl
         Edmund fell slowly to his knees and finally allowed the tears to flow down his pale cheeks. All he had hoped for was lost. He would never again be home, and know the safety of his family again. With these thoughts, Edmund gave up all hope. He decided to leave London that very day. He would have to do something. Wandering the streets in the hope that his father might find him had been stupid. He now understood that he must get away. What if the Bishop were looking for him? What if he knew what Edmund had seen? Maybe if he could find a captain ready to sail with the need for a cabin boy…
          It was that night that he found his salvation, and he found it in another lost boy. This boy was only slightly older than Edmund, but far wiser to the ways of the street. His name was Jacob. He wasn’t quite sure of his age, though if asked he would say he was probably thirteen or fourteen. They met that evening as Edmund found the docks, and was just trying to muster up the nerve to walk aboard one of the ships and ask for a job. He stood shivering for some time, every now and then mumbling what he might say under his breath. An exaggerated sigh turned his attention to a young man standing nearly right behind him.
         “‘Bout time ya even heard me standin’ hare. I coulda robbed ya an thew ya in that there wata fer ya knew wut Ah wuz aboot.” Jacob said slyly as he watched the young boy’s face cringe in fear. He decided to have a bit more fun at the boy’s expense, “Wuz ya thinking on walkin’ on that there ship or nay, lad. Ah been figurin’ on doin’ the same fer some time now. Be nice if ya coulda figure it out.”
         The boy’s thick half Scots/ half Cockney accent made it hard to follow, but Edmund managed. He nervously replied, “I… I was going to inquire as to whether this captain had a position open for a cabin boy.          Do you happen to know?” He had just finished stammering this out when the older boy burst out in laughter. Edmund glared at the boy’s humor and thought: Just because I’m younger than him and smaller and not quite used to my surroundings, doesn’t make me weak. Why I’ve watched my father take on every challenge, never backing down. Why he is…  He looked the boy straight in the
eye and said, “What are you laughing at you half-wit? You don’t think I could do it? Well, I am…”
         Edmund abruptly stopped his tirade with a shocked look on his face that stopped

the other boy's laughter.

         “Wut’s goin' about, boy." Jacob said sternly seeing the fear on the small boy's

face," I been just pickin' wit ya. Gad have mercy, ya needn't be fearin' me. Meant

no harm." As he was trying to put the boys fears to rest Edmund darted behind Jacob to

hide behind a pile of rubbish. Realizing that the boy feared something beyond him, Jacob

looked around himself expecting to see a rat or one of the people of the street walking

towards them in a menacing way. All he noticed was a man of the cloth walking slowly

among the debris of the alley way as though he had lost something. Jacob walked toward

the man and said," Ya lost, mister? Wat e'er ya lookin' fer ain't here. Ah be sure o' that."

         The priest slowly looked Jacob up and down as if to take his measure. Jacob was

a fit boy for his age, standing about 5'7". He was thick in the chest enough for someone  to

know he had done some hard work in his short time. He had almost startling red hair that

he cut jaggedly short with a dirk, he kept hidden in his waist band. He detested his hair

and cut it short, hoping to keep but so much attention on it. He had large, stern eyes, that

even at his age could see into a person's soul. He was proud of the fact that he had

managed to keep from getting the dreaded freckles that plagued most red heads. After

the priest finished looking him over he leaned close to show Jacob that he palmed a few

pounds.

         "I work for the Bishop, and he seems to have lost his ward.”, as he said this he

closed his fist around the money."He's a small boy about to turn twelve. Brown hair about

half your height. You'd know him if you had seen him. He comes of a wealthy family.

Can't be too many from that description down here. You seen him, boy?"

         Jacob looked at the priest a moment, wondering why the boy feared this priest. He

looked a bit crooked, by why fear? Then he said to the priest, "Aye, fadder Ah believe Ah

have." After he said this he heard the boy move among the rubbish ever so quietly.

         "What was that?” the priest asked expectantly. Probably fearing one of the boy's

friends to jump out of the shadows and attack.

         "That be nothin' but a rat. Plague me every night wit there nibblin'. Would na

mind a bit of a prayer to be rid of em, neither." he smiled at the priest and continued," Da

lad , Ah believe Ah saw him dis very morn. Twere walkin' along lookin' as if he were

lost, he was. Round bout da pub he was. That help ya none, fadder?"

         "If you see him again, would you bring him to this address? There's a handsome

reward." The priest said this and handed Jacob two pounds and a small slip of paper, at

his nod. Then he hurried quickly back up the lane.

         Jacob stood watching for some time before he went to Edmund and pulled him up

to full height. “Wut trouble ya be in boy? And ya be tellin' Jacob O'Ryan no lies."

         "Please, can't I tell you later? He might come back. I have to leave. Please?"

Edmunds was so pale and he was beginning to get the purple rings under his eyes as

proof of how long it had been since he had last slept.

         "Ah'll get you aboard, an even talk wit da cap'n, see bout gettin' ya a job. But

'fore A'll be lettin' ya go yu'll be tellin' wat tis goin' on. Agreed."

"Yes. I promise. Now, please, can we go?"






         "Ya need nae beg. Me name be Jacob O'Ryan as Ah mentioned. Wat be yurs,

boy?" ,he tried to say in a calmer tone.

         "My name’s Edmund Burgess, Earl of Devonshire."