"You shall keep to your homes until word comes welcoming you out of the town," announced the crier from his high perch on the wagon's seats.
A murmur went up among the crowd. This was bad news for anyone who did not have great stores of food tucked away yet, which was nearly everyone. It was August and there were still two months at least left of the harvest.
"You shall be brought provisions if necessary," assured the crier when the crowd had quieted some. "There will be no reason for you to ignore this order or grow desperate."
More muttering followed. Even if their immediate needs were taken care of, the idea of the fields outside the town going unharvested and then fallow was disastrous, but the uneasy citizens also knew themselves to be surrounding by a ring of the Earl's men.
In the time before the Great Fever and its far-reaching aftermath, the governing lords would not have reacted so quickly and decisively to this new sickness. But things were different now.
"What will we do?" asked Alice in a panicked whisper. Their livelihood depended on the gleanings they were allowed to take after the main harvests.
"We will do as they bid us," answered her mother with a sharp look that warned her not to speak anymore.
But they were not the only uneasy members of the crowd. One voice called out, "And what of us who do not live here? My family awaits my return and I shall lose this year's profits to pay my room and board."
"All these matters will be settled by the Earl. No-one shall go ruined by these necessary precautions."
It was clear the traveling merchant was not satisfied by so vague a promise, yet he could hardly speak out against the Earl's word.
