The potter’s field was located on a hill two versts from Christofer’s house. There lay the plague dead, pilgrims, the strangled, unchristened babies, and suicides. Those drowned by waters, and taken by battle, and kylled by kyllers, and stricken by fyre. Suddenly surprised, those who had fallen from lightning, were deade from frost and every sort of wounde. The lives of these unfortunates were varied and it was not life that united them: their resemblance to one another consisted of death.
