By the autumn of the Year of Our Lord, 1495, the Black Plague once again howled westwards across Europe from the Indies, carried by seamen and entering England by the South West Passage. Each day, thousands died. Village after village disappeared in its evil wake, and not even the best and noblest escaped its horror.
[Inside the corridor in the castle, Prince Edmund, Duke of Edinburgh and his squire, Baldrick, are fiddling with a royal portrait while Lord Percy guards the corridor. Percy, however, turns his head round to see what Edmund is doing, and, at that moment, Edmund's older brother, Prince Harry, walks up to him]
Ah, Edmund, I'm glad I've caught you.
[hiding the portrait behind his back] Er, doing what?
I'm afraid Father's feeling a bit under the weather.
[a bit excited at the possibility of being closer to the throne] Oh dear! Any idea what?
Not sure. I think it's probably Black Death. Nevertheless, I am sure that he'd appreciate a little visit from you...
Oh. Well, I'm sure I can pop my head round the door...
...sort of nowish.
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