In the study, Lady Kat rushed to the Princess's side. When she felt the young girl's forehead, the child was burning hot. "Lord save us, she burns with fever! Thomas, help me with her!" Motioning for Sir Thomas to carry the young girl to her chambers, she anxiously crossed herself as she followed him. He gently placed the princess on Lady Ashby's bed. "Quick, woman! Help me undress her." The two worked together, removing the outer layers of the fevered girl's garments, trying in vain to lower her temperature.

'Neville!" Lady Kat whirled from the bed to locate him. Go and fetch me fresh sheets and buckets cold water! We must bring her fever down." Despite her authoritative tone, Neville sensed the usually composed woman was in such a state of high anxiety he feared for her sanity. He'd never her seen her in such emotional turmoil, almost incomprehensible when shew spoke. Grateful to be freed from the scene, he sprang to the door then rushed to the kitchen. There he found the head cook, Sarah. Standing at a wooden table. She was loudly directing her staff as she deftly prepped a fowl for supper.

"Mistress Sarah, Lady Elizabeth's sick! Lady Ashley's requests water and cloth to cool her fever."

The large woman's bulk stiffened in surprise as she turned to face him. She threw the half stuffed goose onto the table. "God's death, lad! What's all this? The Lady Elizabeth is ill?" The cook's face was as unreadable and stern as seasoned general's, but her heart was tender toward the young Princess. Not waiting for an answer, she grabbed an empty wooden bucket from a nearby peg. With smooth, efficient movements, she thrust the receptacle at him, along with rapid fire instructions. "Neville, go to the well for the water, then come back here for the bed sheets." She started pulling clean clothes from a line in front of the room's fireplace, then hastily folded them into a basket. "Ack! Never mind the sheets, I'll bring them my self." Without missing a beat, the kitchen servants had automatically assumed what remained of Sarah's work, preparing for dinner. Some of them, already aware of the King's upcoming visit, murmured nervously among themselves. On the way out, their intimidating boss cried one final warning. "Not a word of this to anyone! Do you hear me? Now carry on. Dinner won't make itself!"

On his way back from the well, Neville spied a black robed figure painfully hastening up the Manor walkway. He identified Master Ingle, Brisby's only resident physician. Despite a humped back which caused him to walk with a slight limp, the man was making impressive speed. Neville had seen Ingle last month when he'd attended his mother for dropsy. He noted how rapidly the man had aged since then. The physician's beak nose was more pronounced, worry lines furrowing deep crevices in his forehead. Without a word, Neville fell in step behind the aged physician. He followed the hobbling man as fast as he could without sloshing cold water out of the heavy wooden bucket. Together they laboriously climbed the narrow wooden stairs to the Princess Elizabeth's room.

Inside the chambers where the Princess lay, the air was oppressive and stale from too many bodies crowded into a small room. The Princess thrashed in agony own bed. Neville froze, aghast at the sight of his small friend moaning incoherently. Her unseeing eyes came to rest on him, then rolled back up in their sockets. Does she sense my presence? Despite the overly warm room, he felt chilled, as if someone had walked over his grave. Reflexively, he crossed himself hoping to banish death's spirit from the room. As Lady Kat relieved him of the bucket, the cook arrived with clean bed clothes. While the two woman bathed the feverish girl with cold water to lower her temperature, he hung back awaiting further instructions. The attending physician took instruments out of his black case, an intent look on his face as he hovered over the sick girl.  After a few minutes of examination, he shook his head sadly. "Sir Thomas, we must fetch a priest. The demons have hold of her spirit. There's naught I can do here. They are taking her with them to the other side."

"God's death man. What do you mean? You must save her! The King will be here by the morrow! You don't understand. If the princess dies we'll all be sent to the block!" Fear and anger distorted Sir Parry's handsome face into an ugly mask.

Lady Kat was sobbing in despair at their wretched luck. "That's only if he's merciful. You know the king's wrath won't spare us from being dragged through the streets before we're drawn and quartered."

Neville crept past the Princess's guardians to approach the small form lying on the bed. Her feeble movements were slowing, like a clock winding down. When he touched the wet sheets, they were still hot. Elizabeth's body was a furnace rendering the cold water useless. "I'll go and fetch more water." He whispered. No one answered him.