"The night had been sharp with frost and now the morning was clear
for a change, after the cold, wet winds which had blighted the last few days. The
winter sun hung in the sky over the Lawnmarket, bringing a pale shadow of warmth to
the City. The market was busy as always, crowded with people buying or selling,
making it hard for anyone to pass through their midst. But the figure that walked
up the Lawnmarket now, as the bell of St Giles struck the nine, had no difficulty
in finding a way. The crowd cleared for him, parting like waves before the prow
of a ship.
The figure that strode westwards, towards the crest of the Lawnmarket,
was wrapped in a heavy leather cloak, despite the gentle warmth of the morning. In
his hand he carried a long wooden staff, which beat a tattoo against the stones
of the street as he walked. On his hands he was wearing heavy leather gloves, which
came halfway up his arms. His boots too were long and stout, heavy riding boots
high up to his knees, covering him, like the cloak which was drawn tight. Nothing showed of the man beneath, if it was a man. It was difficult to tell. He looked
like a bird, like some giant leather-clad bird, stalking along the Lawnmarket. His
face, if he had a face, was covered by a leather hood, with eyeholes cut
into it. And where the man’s nose and mouth might be was a beak. Or something that
looked like a beak. It was a long wicker-basket, curving downwards, shaped like
a beak, tied behind the head with leather straps. As the man walked, if it was a
man, the basket wobbled and dipped, as if he were testing the air about him and
tasting it. Tasting it for fear."
The description is based on genuine images of the plague doctors of Edinburgh, but mine is a compound of a couple of them, with a little dash of artistic licence thrown in too. I like him.
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