Memories of Ghosts

Fifteen: New Threats

**And now it's time for a flow of heartbreaking memories! 😊 Cool history facts and character development straight ahead!

Hope y'all enjoy!**

13 October 1562

Arthur knew that Elizabeth wouldn't live forever, but the looming presence of death came quicker and weighed heavier than he would've predicted.

Two weeks ago, the Queen of England came down with an awful cold. She'd have sudden coughing fits that would leave her with a red-face and watery eyes. Court members would ask her if she needed a glass of wine or required a short break so she could go outside and catch some fresh air, but she denied them every time, claiming she felt fine before scribbling more notes down. Kat took note of her symptoms and her inner worried nanny sprung out and suggested to Elizabeth to take some time off work (she insisted that she was too much of a workhorse and was probably stressing herself out) and even offered to call for a doctor to check up on her. Again the queen rejected any silly proposals; "I am running an entire kingdom, my dear Kat," she countered, "thus my people's needs always come before mine."

Arthur idolized her selflessness and ambition to get things done, but he too eventually begged her to stop going to court as time strolled on, revealing deadlier signs of sickness. Her coughing fits grew harsher and uncontrollable, leaving her gasping for breath. Her skin was hot to the touch and sweat would bead around her hairline like she just arrived from a long, hard ride with Cannon. But what frightened him the most was the small red spots that popped up along her fingers and hands.

Royal doctors and physicians were brought to the castle to study her, to find a way to cure her of the "cold" she'd received. They came to her bedchamber daily to check her rising fever and the slow progress of red bumps appearing over her body. Their heads would shake slightly as they wrote down their personal notes and asked the queen to stay in bed and to drink lots of ale. Everyone began to panic (including Arthur) when she brushed off the doctors' orders as if they were nothing more than a pesky flea and went on with her queenly duties.

On the tenth of October, the medics, worried for her well-being yet annoyed with her uncooperativeness, told Elizabeth that she was infected with smallpox and that her life was in serious danger. She hesitated, pondering to herself as she examined each face surrounding her: Cecil frowned through his bushy beard as if he'd suspected she had the disease long before she was diagnosed, Kat clamped a hand over her mouth just as a terrified squeak escaped her, and Arthur had no idea what expression he wore, but whatever it was, it made Elizabeth stare momentarily before finally announcing, "I will resign from my obligations until this specific complication resolves itself. Do not fear, gentlemen, for I highly doubt a few little dots will be the end of me."

The proclamation was supposed to be audacious and daring, he figured, yet he could easily sense the dread bubbling not only within himself but also in those around them.

For the next three days, Elizabeth was put under bed-arrest (or was attempted to anyway) as the doctors continued poking and prodding her while court members began pleading for a named successor. She, nevertheless, remained her stubborn self by disobeying treatment instructions and staying silent—and quite offended—about a potential replacement for the English throne.

"Drop the quill and lay down already," he scolded her, irritation and anxiety churning in the pit of his stomach. "You have to get some rest, Elizabeth."

"I don't have to do anything," she replied curtly. "I feel fine."

"If you're going to lie, then do so properly. I can sense your increasing temperature from over here—it's as if the humid air of Spain bedded the scorching sands of Greece."