A/N: THIS IS THE SECOND CHAPTER POSTED TODAY.


Sunshine beamed through the high windows in Eala's temple not long after midday. No matter how warm it was outside, the thick walls kept the huge building cool. Usually it was quiet.

But not this day.

The sound of many voices combined to make a dull roar.

Most of the stone floor was covered with people. The sick lay as close to the walls, to their sheltering coolness, as possible. Family and friends sat by their stricken loved ones, talking, sometimes joking, often weeping. The murmur of prayers was constant.

John pushed himself up with his crutch from Daniel's bedside in the middle of the room. "It is very good to see you hungry," he said. A grin cracked his face. It was the first time in days he had smiled.

He still felt weak, but he could feel himself growing stronger.

I must rest again when I go back to the forge. Anna would want me to.

The tow-headed boy grinned back, a speck of fish stuck to his face. "It feels good to be hungry. And I didn't want soup. Not again."

The blacksmith laughed, and ruffled the boy's hair. "I'm sure you didn't." His smile widened. "I was glad when Master Joseph gave me part of a shepherd's pie this morning. Your grandmother told me Toby ate a little soup earlier this morning. He said he was tired of it, too."

Daniel nodded in sympathy. "Maybe the priestess will let him eat something else later."

"I'm sure he hopes so," John said. "I'm going to see him now. In the meantime, finish your meal. I will be back at sunset."

"Don't tire yourself out, Master," the boy said. "I am glad you are feeling better, too!"

"Me too." John smiled. "Me too."

In some ways it felt like after he had come back from the war. Knowing death had come so near, only for it to pass him by.

Along the southern edge of the wall, Richard sat next to Toby, his hand on his chest. John gazed down at his apprentice in shock. The boy's eyes were closed, and his mouth slightly open, his breathing shallow. His skin looked almost grey.

"I don't understand," John muttered. "The priestess told me he was well earlier!"

Richard looked up at him, grief and exhaustion mixed in his pale blue eyes. "This sickness is a strange one," he said shortly. He got up and motioned for John to follow him just outside the side door into the garden.

"He's dying," the healer rubbed his eyes. "I have done all I can, but the fever's taken all of his strength."

John felt his knees wobble, and he clutched at the wall for support. "No," he whispered. Tears started in his eyes. "I should have done more, brought him here sooner-"

"You cared for him just as well at the forge as he has been here," Richard said. "Don't blame yourself. There's nothing else you could have done for him, especially when you were ill yourself." He put what was meant to be a reassuring hand on John's arm, but the blacksmith was not consoled. The healer continued. "Daniel is growing stronger every moment. He can leave here, if you wouldn't mind looking after him for a few days. He will still be a little weak, but he will heal. I promise."

Nodding, John wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "I am glad his grandmother will live, too. She is the only one caring for him and his younger brother." He saw the older woman chatting with Isobel near the opposite wall.

"What about Toby? What about his family? He's not from Downton."

"His mother died giving birth to him, and his father abandoned him three summers ago." John felt a flash of long-buried anger. "Anna and I, and Daniel, are his family."

"I understand." Richard glanced back at the open doorway. "If he lasts until moonrise tonight, I will be surprised."

"I will come back before sunset," the blacksmith promised. He trudged out of the garden leaning on his crutch, his feet almost as heavy as his heart.

Downton was eerily quiet. A few people walked from place to place, but it was nothing like a usual day in spring at midday. John hardly noticed the colors of the blossoming flowers or the river rushing by.

How will I tell Anna about Toby? Sending a message doesn't seem to be the right thing to do, but do I risk going to the house? What if SHE gets the fever? And it isn't just her, it's Phyllis and Lily, and Freddie…

Their neighbor Jane had sent her son to their house to help Anna. And, John suspected, to keep the boy from being tempted to go into Downton to see his friends. Jane had become John's link with Anna, coming to the forge in the morning to relay news, and to take back any news he had. He was relieved that, as of yet, no one at his house had the terrible fever.

Many people could not say the same.

He tried to fight back the tears that came, then let them fall, thinking of when he helped Joseph bury his father. Master Bill had died quickly.

Walking past the matchmaker's silent house, he was puzzling over his dilemma when he heard someone calling his name. He looked up, and saw Robert coming towards him.

"I heard you and the queen had come to the hall. I am sorry I could not attend the funeral," he said to his old friend.

The king's face was drawn, and he had lines under his eyes John had never seen before. "There's no need to apologize. Her Ladyship was too ill to attend herself, so I can hardly berate you for not being there."

"How is she?" John asked, sucking in his breath. "Joseph told me he had heard she was ill." He did not think he could bear hearing of another death.

Robert heaved a sigh. "Better, thank the gods. For a day or so I thought my whole life had gone over a cliff. But she pulled through." A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Cora is a wonder. When I told her Martha was dead, she wanted to make sure I was all right."

"She must be very sad. She only has one mother." The blacksmith felt an old pain, thinking of his own.

"Yes. I think her greatest pain is that she wasn't with her. Not that she could have been. She was on the brink of death herself." Robert rubbed the stubble on his chin. "At least Martha was not alone. Cousin Isobel sat beside her at the end. If my mother-in-law had had enough strength to speak, she probably would have told her to find something better to do." He rubbed his face. "How Isobel has not had the fever, being in the middle of it, I will never know. But thank the gods that she and Mama are all right. My mother had the fever before we arrived, but she's almost fully recovered. Between her will and Isobel's, I don't think even the God of the Underworld would have dared to take her."

"Are you all right, milord?" John could not help but ask. His old friend spoke slower than usual. It was plain he had not slept much.

"I think so. I only had a touch of it. Lady Mary and Master George are safe at the palace. If only this death would end…" Robert's voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "Enough about me. What about Anna, is she all right? And your lads? They took ill some days ago. Mama told me."

"Anna is well, milord." John felt his heart ease a little at the thought of his wife. "And Daniel will recover. But Master Richard says Toby will not last the day." He stopped, unable to speak more.

"He's just a boy!" The king cried before controlling himself. "I'm so sorry, John." He let out a breath. "Truly. If there is anything I can do, tell me."

"Thank you."

"I wondered if you had seen Charles," Robert said, letting John regain his composure. "Thomas and Sybil have heard nothing of him since before we left the palace. They may have by now, but I wanted to ask you."

John shook his head. "No. I haven't seen him or anyone else there, not since Master Bill sent Daisy home. I hope they are all well."

It worried him that he and Joseph had no news of their friends.

A woman hurried past them, but turned quickly, hearing his voice. "John! I was hoping to find you. I thought you were at Joseph's house!"

"Jane?" John's eyes widened. "Is something wrong with Anna? Do I-"

The widow shook her head. "She's fine, as is everyone at home. She was so relieved to know that your fever had broken last night." Her smile slipped, seeing the king. "I beg your pardon, milord. I didn't recognize you at first-"

"Go on," Robert murmured. He was lost in thought, his hand on his chin.

Jane passed on the news that Elsie had given her. Robert was startled out of his reverie when he heard Charles's name.

"That poor man," his shoulders slumped. "As if he has not had enough to contend with in his life, now his only daughter has the fever!? And two of his apprentices? It will be a miracle if no one else falls ill! I will write to Lady Mary immediately," he said, turning to John. "She won't like them leaving, but Thomas and Sybil must be told about Daisy. They would want to be here."

He promised to return to Downton as soon as possible. He spoke quickly to the guard who stood in front of Martha's door, then rushed out of the village towards the hall, taking Elsie's letter from Jane.

"You look like you need to rest," Jane frowned at John, a line appearing between her eyes. "Anna would want you to recover your strength, not wear yourself out brooding. She told me to tell you that."

John half-grinned. "Of course she did. And I will rest."

He thought about telling her about Toby, but he did not have the heart to give her that burden. Not yet. Freddie was a good friend of his apprentice; he would be devastated.

"I thought I would go sleep at the forge," he said, trying to forget about the heavy weight of his grief for a moment. "No one has been there for days, and for all I know, someone may have come and stolen all my tools. And Joseph needs to have his home back without me underfoot."

"I went to the forge after Master Joseph told me you weren't at his house. I almost forgot," Jane clapped a hand to her forehead. "There was a man there. I told him I didn't know where you were, but he said he would wait for you no matter how long it took. All of your tools were still there. But of course the fire was out."

"What did he want? Who is he?" John asked curiously. Who would want something from the forge now?

The widow shook her head. "I've never seen him before. I would have asked him his name," she apologized, "And what he wanted, but I needed to find you."

"I am glad you did. Thank you for all of this, Jane. Anna and I will have to repay you for everything you've done, running all over for our sake. I think even the Messenger would be impressed."

She smiled. "It's what neighbors do. You both agreed to look after Freddie. That's enough for me, to know he's safe." She adjusted her hood, glancing up at the sky. Billowing clouds were beginning to fill the sky, casting shadows. "I think it will rain before the day is done. I'd better get to the temple. Freddie wanted me to visit Toby and Daniel."

John muttered goodbye as she walked away. He felt as though a stone had fallen into his chest, weighing him down.

She will know soon enough.

He stumped his way down the empty road past Joseph's house before turning to go to the forge. He was in no mood to hurry. The farther he walked, the more his anger grew. At his inability to help his friends, at his own body for failing him, at the wretched fever that threatened to devour them. At his own cowardice for not telling Jane about Toby himself.

At the fool who waited for the blacksmith in a village drowning in death.

Doesn't he know there are more important things to worry about than getting a blade sharpened, or a scythe made?

A familiar hunched figure sat along the wall by the forge.

John stopped dead in the middle of the path, his bad leg and bodily weakness forgotten. His crutch slipped from his hand. The breeze picked up, bringing to his nose the sharp scent of sulfur.

"Joe?"

The old man got to his feet. His bony knees cracked. His cloak was as torn and singed as ever, but John had never seen him with a wider smile. He felt tears coming to his eyes again, this time with happiness.

"My friend," Joe approached him, gently putting a hand on his arm. "I am so glad to see you. You've looked better, but I wager you don't mind how you look just now."

His mortal friend was pale and thin, with shadows beneath his eyes.

"N-not at all," John stuttered, feeling as though he could laugh and cry at the same time. "I never expected to see you here! Today!"

He had not realized how much he had missed his friend, nor how much he had doubted that Master Burns would come back. He was very happy to be wrong.

Anna will be overjoyed!

"Well, I'm here now," the old man said, keeping a firm grip on John's arm, "This fever is terrible. As far as I have traveled, it has left its mark. But I couldn't stay away from here." He almost looked guilty, like a child caught in the middle of mischief.

The last thing John wanted was to think of was the fever. And its cost. "What of your troubles? Did you ever find answers to them?"

Joe's smile faded. "No," he mumbled softly. He coughed, then cleared his throat. "I have not given up trying to find an answer, but for now, nothing has changed." He pushed a little on John's back and bent over to pick up his crutch. "Let's sit and talk. Tell me about Anna."

He helped John sit down beside the wall and shared a loaf of bread with him, listening to his friend tell him the news.

Above their heads the clouds built.


The flames flew up, throwing heat into the small space. Water dripped from the eaves of the roof that covered the forge. Rain still fell, but the brunt of the storm had passed and its thunder and lightning had moved south.

Victor sighed as he hammered a new scythe.

Maybe I should not have come.

You were not lying to him.

I couldn't stay away.

I did not want to.

He glanced at the slumbering blacksmith. John snored on a sheepskin by the far wall. He had gone to sleep, despite arguing that he wanted to stay awake and get some work done. He had even slept through the thunderstorm.

He is still weak from the fever.

That is your doing.

"What choice did I have?" he muttered to himself. He plunged the scythe into water, and it hissed, steam pouring everywhere.

Regret gnawed at him.

Athena had warned him not to thwart Hades.

"It is not wise," she said as he bent over the fire, frantically tugging at his beard. In the flames, he saw John suffering from a high fever as Joseph tried to get him to drink from a water skin.

The goddess continued. "He rarely interferes with anyone else, so of course he expects us to do the same! And Victor, think. Even if you save them now, they are mortal." She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "They will all die someday."

He looked up at her, his eyes smoldering. "I will not stand here and do nothing. They deserve some happiness before the King's brother locks them into his realm forever!"

He had kept Death from taking the blacksmith.

It had only been his intention to save John and Anna. But with Phyllis and her baby at their home, and the neighbor's boy there too, he could hardly keep the fever from one but not the rest.

And so he had protected Jane, too. She was the only person to come there while the sickness raged.

Unbeknownst to the mortals, John and Anna's house was free of it.

Victor closed his eyes. Wiping his sweaty face with his dirty apron, he sat down, his heart heavy.

Athena, as always, had been right. He had thought about the apprentices too, but when he left the forge he thought the boys were safe. It was only when John told him about Toby that he realized not everyone he knew would be spared.

If the shepherd dies, that would be just.

He had only seen fleeting glimpses of Eala in his forge's fire. Fever was in the shepherd's house, but Victor had hardly cared. His only concern had been for John and Anna.

At what cost?

He could not be sure, but it did not seem like mere coincidence that Toby was dying after he had made sure the blacksmith and his wife were safe.

The rain had stopped by the time he woke John.

"It's well after midday," he grunted. "You had best go to the temple now."

John rubbed his face, still drowsy. "Aren't you coming with me? Don't you want to see him while you can?"

The hidden god felt trapped.

I have never seen someone dying – not someone I cared for, anyway. Men screaming in battle is different.

And he's at EALA'S temple!

Surely there could be nothing more foolish than to walk into her sacred place. Even if she was not there. It seemed entirely too dangerous.

But there was no way he could say any of this to John.

"Of course I do," he said, hanging up the hammer to avoid the man's eyes.

He had no other choice than to go. And he did want to see Toby, however difficult it would be.

He and John walked through the quiet village. A soft, fresh breeze whispered through the tall grass by the riverbank.

"I am very glad you're with me," John said when they were in sight of the stone building. "I know Anna would have wanted to be here, but she agreed to stay away from Downton while the fever lasts. She'll be glad you were here, too."

Victor still resisted what was happening. "How do we know he is so ill?" He asked, curt. "Master Richard could be wrong-"

"He isn't wrong. Not this time," John responded, his voice grim.

The doors to the temple were open. Several people sat on the steps. Two women and a man tried to console another crying woman; another man, his face lined, sat staring blankly.

Richard was talking in a low voice to one of the temple girls when the two came up the stairs. Victor stopped, held back by an unseen barrier. He tilted his head back and breathed deeply.

The smell of sickness, sweat and death drifted from inside the building. To the mortals, it was all they would notice except for the faint fragrance of roses.

But to the Divine the essence of the goddess was far more powerful.

I forgot how captivating she is.

Her scent made him dizzy, and he caught his breath. For several moments he was overwhelmed with the desire to abandon the place, and run to her.

Beauty Unequaled, indeed.

He staggered a little, and put out a hand to steady himself against the wall near the doors. He held up his cloak to his face. Richard was speaking to John.

"…asking for you. Ah, Master Burns," the healer stood in the doorway. "I'm sure John is grateful that you are here now, but I must tell you I do not think it is a good idea for you to come in."

What?

"I disagree," John argued, frowning. "What harm can there be-"

"Plenty of harm, to be sure," Richard stared at Victor. "Many of the poor souls who have succumbed to the fever are of advanced years. I would hardly be doing right by you to let you enter here, where the air is so foul."

His tone was entirely earnest, but the hidden god struggled not to laugh.

I do not think it is a good idea to go in, but for an entirely different reason!

He frowned, putting on his best obstinate face. "I'll risk it," he growled, and brushed past the healer, following John.

Daniel and his grandmother sat by Toby. John was prepared to see him, as his appearance had not changed since earlier in the day. He sat down beside him, laying aside his crutch.

"Look who is here," he said quietly, lifting the boy's head. Toby blinked and took a long rattling breath.

"Old Joe," he whispered. Crouching down, Victor took his hand. It was cold.

Toby's grey pallor and the hushed atmosphere inside drove away Eala from his mind.

Mostly.

He had never liked nor understood death, but seeing the life ebbing away from his young friend made him hate it all the more. Not knowing how to respond to it, he decided to continue playing the old man.

"Hey now," he grunted, placing his other rough hand over Toby's, "What's this? The last time I saw you, you could hammer a blade like a man twice your size."

This was not true, but it made him happy when the corners of the boy's lips turned up.

"I wish I could…hammer away this fever," Toby murmured. His voice was so quiet Victor had to lean closer to him.

"So do I, lad. So do I." He felt a lump in his throat.

If only you knew how much.

I am sorry I didn't do more to save you.

"I'm glad to see you," the boy muttered. "Glad…"

Tears ran down Daniel's cheeks. His grandmother had her arm around him.

"You should rest, Toby," she said, gently pulling down the blanket over him. John smoothed down his hair. He glanced up at Victor and Richard, who stood close by.

"It won't be long now," the healer said softly. Toby drifted into a light sleep.

Victor held the boy's hand between his. The lad's courage was remarkable, he thought.

How do they do it? Face death, without knowing what is on the other side?

At least he will have someone to guide him. He won't be alone-

He took a shuddering breath, his muscles suddenly tense. It took all of his willpower not to drop Toby's hand and run out of the temple.

I cannot stay here. Not until the end. HE would see me.

And he would tell her.

His eyes flickered up to the mural over his left shoulder. Of Eala and the Messenger.

Slowly, much slower than he wanted, he gently laid Toby's hand on his chest. He rubbed the boy's head, wanting to remember his face.

"You are a good lad," he whispered. "And you are never alone."

He will forget me.

His shoulders slumped in grief. He wondered if that is what it felt like to be old. To be weighed down by losses that could not be restored.

Shuffling to his feet, he cleared his throat. "Maybe you were right," he said to Richard. "I should not be here."

"Joe, please stay-" John began, but Victor was having none of it.

"I cannot. I came to bid him farewell, and I have. I'm sorry, John. I will see you back at the forge."

Before the blacksmith could protest, he made his way outside. Breathing heavily, he stumbled down the steps and fled to the forge.