The new year of 1350 dawned on the town of Avignon, and with it came optimism borne out of adversity. The plague was now well and truly in the past for the townsfolk — all nightmares end eventually, as should be the case. They looked forward to a healthy and prosperous future. The spring sunshine was pleasantly moderate, ideal for sitting out on the benches on either side of the streets, squares, and stream. The intense heat of the Provençale summer, when they would be forced to seek cover behind shutters and closed doors, was still months away.
Alice strolled through the streets with her robe, made from fine beige linen, dragging along the ground, as was the fashion for women of standing. The Magistrate’s wife had taken to her role with a distinguished, even regal air. While coming from
