How to Survive in the Roanoke Colony-Chapter 46: Treatment Center (2)
"50 bottles for tent number 10."
"Yes! Understood, 50 bottles!"
"Mrs. Dare? The count of hygienic gloves doesn't match..."
"That's because about half of the gloves haven't been moved from the ship yet. It'll match when they're brought over, so don't worry."
"Mrs. Dare! 13 more patients have been brought in!"
"Where did they come from?"
"They say from Aldgate?"
"Then move them to the Aldgate tent! I'll organize it!"
There, Eleanor naturally took command.
Today was another busy day, like a war. The inside of the protective suit was completely soaked with sweat, feeling as if she were swimming in water.
While Eleanor was moving medicine boxes herself, sweating profusely...
Fling.
Someone throws open the tent door.
Wondering who it is, she looks... and sees unfamiliar faces. She hasn't heard their voices in Chesapeake Bay either.
Not only that... their attire is strange.
Men who thoroughly conceal their entire bodies with flowing cloaks and gloves, holding pomanders in one hand.
"Is this the place!"
"This is it. First, let's find out who's in charge here..."
No... men.
The dozen or so men seemed to be looking for the 'person in charge' of this place. Eleanor took a deep breath, put down the medicine box, and walked toward them.
"Are you looking for the person in charge?"
"That's right, madam. Who might you be..."
"Eleanor Dare. I'm in charge here."
"..."
"..."
"..."
They seemed not to believe that quite a young woman was in charge, but... after observing the gazes of those around them toward her, they seemed to accept it and turned their heads back to her.
"Do you have patients? You seem to be doctors..."
"Ah, it's not about patients, but about business. Lord Raleigh seems to be the owner of this place, but Lord Raleigh is busy and difficult to contact right now."
"Bus...iness?"
"That's right."
They each take out rolled-up letters from inside their garments and hand them to her. Various crests were visible on the seals.
"We came by order of the Earl of Pembroke. The Earl has shown interest in the medicine distributed here."
"We were sent by Sir John Lowell. For the same reason."
"This one is the personal physician of Lord Hawkins. I believe you've heard of Lord Hawkins."
"We also..."
"...Pardon?"
Suddenly finding herself armful of countless letters, the confused Eleanor puts down the armful of letters she had hoisted with an "oof," and asks while dusting off her hands:
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"You want to... trade medicine?"
"That's right. First, please listen to the price we're offering..."
"If there's a patient, they must come here directly. There are separate tools for administration, so our personnel will be needed."
"Then you can send them with the personnel!"
"No... that's not what I meant..."
Feeling perplexed, Eleanor continued to explain 'kindly' to them.
This is a treatment center that treats the plague for free, and was established with Lord Raleigh's private funds.
Also, the personnel and equipment here cannot be taken out, and if one wants treatment, one must come here...
"...'Here'? 'His Lordship the Earl'?"
"...Pardon?"
Although their expressions weren't visible because their cloaks were pulled down deeply, one could guess from their voices that the men's faces were scrunched up.
They were looking around. Even outside the tent.
A slum where beggars and prostitutes loitered.
"'His Lordship the Earl' cannot come to 'a place like this.' We will purchase the medicine for a fair price, and we only need the help of the personnel here."
"...You don't seem to have understood the explanation properly."
"Hahaha, Mrs. Dare. It's you who hasn't understood properly. His Lordship the Earl wants the medicine."
"And?"
"There is nothing more. His Lordship the Earl will get the medicine."
"..."
"Since personnel are needed too, we'll have to invite you as well. Perhaps you could come..."
"No."
"..."
"I'm sorry, but here every hand is urgently needed. No one can leave this place, and not even one bottle of medicine can be moved..."
"We said we would pay a price."
"It's still not possible."
"..."
"..."
The doctors fell silent. Eleanor clenched her fists, feeling a bit frightened as the men surrounded her.
"Madam. You don't seem to understand the situation properly..."
"A mere unauthorized treatment center like this could be demolished."
"Look here. I've never heard of the Dare family. In that case, after first paying respects..."
At their threatening words, Eleanor tightly closed her eyes.
And shouted.
"It's not possible!"
Then she pushed them away and forcibly closed the tent door. After tying the door with a string, the doctors began to protest.
"Look here! Do you think this treatment center will be safe after this!"
"Eleanor Dare, I've remembered the name."
"It seems there's no way for a pitiful woman to live safely in London now."
"To turn us away from the door like this! Do you think the Earl of Pembroke will stand by!"
All of them were irritatingly clichéd phrases.
And...
Thud.
All of them were actually threatening.
"..."
She knew the Earl of Pembroke, John Lowell, and Lord Hawkins.
They were people who could actually butcher someone like Eleanor Dare in an alley one day and dump her into the Thames.
Eleanor trembled slightly... then immediately moved to another tent.
"Now, what's the situa—"
"..."
"..."
From Margaret to the others, everyone was just looking at her.
They had all eavesdropped on the conversation.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"M-Mrs. Dare? What... should we do now? Can Lord Raleigh help in time? No, even if he helps, Mrs. Dare..."
"..."
Eleanor Dare thought for a moment... then tried smiling first.
"Isn't it time to give that patient an injection? Give me the syringe! Hurry!"
==
"Everyone. Why would Jesus' life be great?"
Thomas Harriot began his sermon with that opening.
"Why is Jesus great, and truly the most perfect and complete human being?"
==
"Give me the syringe. Hurry... hurry!"
"But Mrs. Dare, th-those high-ranking people from over there told us...!"
"Those people are just one person each!"
Eleanor grabbed Margaret's trembling arm and said:
"Why won't those people come here? Why do they just ask for the medicine?"
"...Because it's dirty here?"
"That's right. But we can't leave here, can we? Because there are people dying here right now."
"..."
"What did he say? He told us to save them, didn't he?"
"..."
"Then we should save as many as possible. Right?"
"...You're right."
"Give me the syringe. Hurry."
Eleanor's eyes trembled. Margaret hesitated... then handed over the syringe again.
==
"He was not the God of the noble. His enemies called him the God of prostitutes and beggars. It was clearly meant as a mockery, but they would not have known.
That they had bestowed the greatest royal title on the King of all.
Yes. He... He is the savior of prostitutes and beggars. He is the king of slaves and madmen, and the representative of rebels, thieves, and all sorts of trash."
==
"Margaret... don't be afraid."
"I-I'm not afraid..."
"Don't lie. You can't lie."
"..."
Eleanor looked at the endlessly streaming lowly ones. Their bodies smelled of urine, alcohol, and garbage.
She could understand why they were despised in this city. They smell. That smell transfers when you get close to them. Disease transfers, misfortune transfers, sin transfers.
A prostitute with no arms comes. A beggar with no legs comes. People who make you wonder if they've ever washed in their lifetime come flooding in.
"What would they say if we treated beggars before the noble people?"
"...Pardon?"
"What more could they do besides kill us?"
"...Pardon?"
That's right.
The most they could do was kill them.
That's all they could do.
They could only cause pain to their bodies, kill their bodies, and prevent their bodies from being properly buried.
That's all.
That's it.
Compared to the celestial authority shining behind their backs, everything was trivial and base. The level of their threats was just that.
"Ah, ah... ugh..."
Margaret cried as she wiped a beggar's buttocks. She quickly cooled the syringe sterilized with fire and inserted it into the beggar's gluteus.
Thus, streptomycin sulfate was injected into a beggar before any duke or gentry.
==
"The Lord is among the most vulnerable among us.
Because the rich do not desperately need the Lord's help.
The Lord mingles among those who suffer and are despised. He suffers, rolling in dirty mud with them.
Because the Lord's words are not desperate to those in power.
The Lord is beside them."
After finishing his sermon, Harriot walked out of the church and looked at Chesapeake Bay, and the Atlantic Ocean stretching far to the east.
Beyond that are many people. They are the ones who have directly entered the jaws of death called London, engulfed by the plague.
Harriot, without even realizing it himself, made the sign of the cross and murmured:
"Lord, always come to the lowest place..."
And thus, protect your apostles.
==
"...You won't sell the medicine?"
"That's right. I'm sorry, Your Lordship."
"Hmmm... No. I think Lord Raleigh has already made some arrangements. I don't know what's gotten into that man. He won't accept even when offered so much money."
"..."
"Very well. Thank you for your efforts."
The Earl of Pembroke, John Lowell, Lord Hawkins, and many other nobles and gentry each received the bitter news of failure in their homes.
And they remembered the names Walter Raleigh and Eleanor Dare.
The treatment center could be demolished in three days, and the woman named Eleanor Dare could be turned into unrecognizable meat in the slums by tomorrow.
They expressed their frustration at not getting a panacea that could cure minor skin diseases or annoying erectile dysfunction.
And.
They didn't know that the plague bacteria had transferred from their doctors.
The Lord always descends to the lowest place.
Because the Lord is not desperate to the wealthy and the powerful.
