The Golden Visit
The mud of the plague pit was not merely wet; it was a living, sucking thing that held the city’s rot in its teeth, and when I pulled my hand from the slurry on that cold Tuesday in the autumn of 1348, the golden coin clung to my fingers like a desperate lover. I am Thomas Bradshaw, a clerk of the Guild of Merchants, a man who has spent ten years counting other men’s pennies and swallowing his...
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