Plague (4 page)

The problem was Budge.

“I can't go without you,” he told the dog. “But you mustn't bark. And how am I going to get you down?”

An idea came to him. The basket!

That night Sam made himself stay awake till he had heard the dead-cart pass and the streets were deserted and quiet.

The basket, he reckoned, was just about big enough to hold Budge. He left it in the back bedchamber and went downstairs. He took a handful of coins from William Kemp's workshop and put them in a purse that he hid under his clothes. In the kitchen he found bread and cheese for himself and a meaty bone for Budge. He wrapped the food in a cloth and filled a leather flask with beer.

“Come on, Budge!” he whispered.

Budge could smell the meat, and whined
hopefully, wagging his tail, as he followed Sam upstairs. Sam tied the end of the rope to Alice's bed frame. He opened the window. But as soon as he tried to persuade Budge to get into the basket the dog began to bark. The sound shattered the silence.

“No, Budge! No! Bad dog!” whispered Sam.

Should I muzzle him with twine?
he wondered.

But the stern words had worked – for now.

Sam grabbed the dog quickly, lifted him into the basket, and tied the handles together. Before Budge could escape he heaved the basket up onto the sill and began to lower it into the yard.

Budge was alarmed, and whined pitifully. As soon as he was down he sprang out and began barking again.

“Budge!” called Sam. “Here!” He tossed him the bone. At once there was a contented silence.

Sam grasped the rope and lowered himself over the sill. He slithered fast, skinning his hands, and dropped down beside Budge.

He listened. All was quiet.

He pulled Budge's lead from his pocket and fastened it to the dog's collar. As they set off he took great gulps of the night air.

They were free!

7
Alone in the City

Sam and Budge scurried as fast as they could away from Friday Street. The watchman would report their escape in the morning, and they needed to hide.

They crossed Cheapside and entered a tangle of streets and alleys on the north side. Sam felt scared. He didn't know this area at all. He kept walking until he was too tired to go any further, then sat down on a doorstep.

“We'll eat our food and rest here till morning,” he said to Budge, cuddling up to the dog to stay warm.

At first light he heard doors opening, voices, and a clatter of pails. Quickly, he gathered his possessions and led Budge away.

Further along the street, grass was growing between the cobblestones. Sam saw two houses with the red cross on them, and one with the white cross that meant the house was now clear of infection. Many shops were shuttered and empty. At the back of one of them he noticed a shed surrounded by tall weeds.

“Perhaps we could hide there,” he said, leading Budge into the yard. He pulled aside
some of the weeds and tried the door of the shed. It opened. There was a smell of wood shavings and straw. Some broken chairs were piled at the back. In one corner was a heap of old sacks.

“A bed!” sighed Sam.

It was what he'd been longing for all night. He curled up on the sacks with Budge beside him and fell into a deep sleep.

When Sam awoke, he felt hungry. He'd need to buy food – but he couldn't take Budge.

“I don't like leaving you,” he said, as he tied Budge to a fence post in the yard.

Budge didn't like it either. He looked so mournful that Sam nearly changed his mind.
But Budge would be worth two pennies dead. Sam couldn't risk losing him as well.

In the next street he found a butcher's shop and bought a meat pie that was big enough for him and Budge to share.

As he fed Budge the scraps back at the shed, Sam looked at the coins he'd brought and worked out how long the two of them could last on a pie a day, and beer. At least a week, he reckoned. That seemed a long time.

Sam and Budge spent two more days in their hiding-place. No one came into the yard. Each day Sam bought a pie from the butcher. Gradually he began to feel safe. But on the third day, as he left the shop, he
saw a gang of boys watching him with a mean look in their eyes. Alarmed, he ran off quickly, taking a path that led away from Budge and the shed.

The gang followed him.

Like a pack of wolves they circled round, one barring his way at every turn, others nipping in and jostling him.

“Leave me alone!” Sam shoved his way out, and ran, his heart thudding, towards a busier street. When he dared look back he saw, to his relief, that they were going away.

He was shaking when at last he found his way back to the empty house and crept into the shed. Budge licked him, and he stroked the dog and felt calmer. But later, when he reached for the purse he had hidden under his clothes, he found that it was gone. The boys had stolen it.

Now he would have to beg.

8
Caught!

“Oi! Be off with you!” The baker stormed out of his shop and glared at Sam. “You're driving my customers away.”

Sam moved further up the street. He hoped people coming out of the shops would take pity on him. He was very hungry. Yesterday a maidservant had given him some stale bread, but he'd eaten nothing since. People hurried by, clutching
their posies of herbs to their faces. No one took any notice of him.

He was searching for scraps among the cobblestones when a woman came by and gave him a bun.

“Thank you –” he began. But she was already gone – afraid of catching the plague.

The bun was warm and fresh and flavoured with cinnamon. He devoured it ravenously. Nothing, he thought, had ever tasted so good.

He licked the last of the crumbs from his fingers as he ran back to the shed to look for Budge.

“Oh, Budge, I'm sorry,” he said, when he
saw his poor dog curled up on the ground. “I've nothing for you again.”

Budge didn't even look up, and growled when Sam tried to stroke him.
He'll turn wild and leave me if I don't feed him,
Sam thought.

Things were getting desperate. He knew he must find help soon or they would both starve.

The next morning Budge barked and struggled as Sam tried to tie him up.

“You can't come, Budge,” Sam told him. “They'll kill you for two pennies, and you're all I've got! I'll find you some food. I promise.” He left his dog straining at the tether and whimpering.

In Foster Lane he passed a row of houses with shops at the front. It was early, and the shops were still closed, but at the end of one of the side passages he saw a half-open door. He ran towards the doorway, hoping to meet someone kind-hearted.

He knocked twice, but no one answered, so he pushed the door open cautiously and peered in. He could hear voices from somewhere in the house, but the room in front of him was empty except for a cat with a yellow stare. A fire was burning in the grate, and over it hung an iron pot that gave off the mouth-watering fragrance of meat and herbs. Sam's stomach yearned for the contents of that
pot. On the table was a knife, a dish of butter and half a loaf of bread.

Sam didn't stop to think. Driven by hunger, he darted in, grabbed the loaf, turned – and found the doorway blocked by a tall girl with a yoke across her shoulders carrying two pails of water.

“Mother!” she shouted. “There's a thief!”

A woman burst into the kitchen from the inner door. Sam ran and tried to pass the girl, but the yoke and pails blocked his way. And then, to his horrified surprise, Budge came racing down the passage with his chewed lead trailing behind him, and shot into the house.

The cat stood up and hissed. Budge barked. Cat, Budge and Sam all moved at once. They collided in the middle of the room and Sam fell flat on the floor, dropping the bread as he smacked down onto the hard flagstones.