“The plague killed so many, Comfort, labor was scarce, good fields were left untilled. Poor folk like us began to know our worth and ask for better wages. That angered King Edward, our king’s grandfather. When the strong grow angry, Comfort, the weak will suffer.”
“It was the lonely quiet of the village with all our people gone. Houses empty. Doors banging. Fires out. No smoke rising. Starving dogs dragging themselves from door to door. Beasts out in the meadow lowing to be milked... Comfort, it felt like the end of the world.”