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‘Now then, Gerald, out with it. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. Are you doing okay in that shirt? You seem uncomfortable. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. Melusine flew after him, the sword held out before her and pointing directly at his retreating back. . Charvill’s command of French was enough to tell him that, for its entire content was devoted to commending Nicholas Charvill’s fourteen year old daughter into the care of the Abbess. He meant to take her out of this room, perhaps even out of the house.
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