THE BLACK DEATH
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Elizabeth was nine years old when it happened. It was the year 1347. She was with her family in their tiny shack in the outer edges of town. Suddenly, there was a faint sound in the distance. The sound came nearer and Elizabeth heard a town crier yelling," Merchant ships from Caffa are coming!" He repeated this over and over while ringing a bell.
Elizabeth looked over at her father, who was sitting on their bed of straw with his eyes closed. He opened them and smiled at his daughter. "Do you want to go watch them unload their goods?" he asked. Elizabeth nodded. They walked silently down to the dock. Elizabeth was fidgeting with excitement. She loved to watch the exotic silks, spices, and furniture being unloaded. She stared out to sea, where the twelve merchant ships were slowly coming to the dock. But something was wrong. Only six or seven sailors were manning the ships. There were even some women and children helping. Elizabeth looked up at her father. He was watching the scene with a puzzled expression on his face. When the ships docked, local officials went on board to see what was wrong. Elizabeth pushed closer. Barely noticeable, the odor of decaying bodies hung in the air. The officials came back. They ordered people to go back home. They said that no merchandise would be unloaded. As the crowds wandered back to the town, Elizabeth and her father were separated. Frightened, Elizabeth walked closer to the wharves and overheard two officials talking. "I fear it might spread to our city," the tall, skinny one said. "I agree, but shouldn't we try to help the sick?" asked the fat one. "It's too dangerous," said tall and skinny. "Do you want to get sick like that?" The crowds pushed Elizabeth away and she couldn't hear what the other official said. Now she was more scared than before. An illness? Judging from what she had heard, it was terrible. Suddenly an arm grabbed Elizabeth's shoulder. She turned and saw her father. "Come," he said grimly. "It's time to go." They walked home quickly. The next day, there was chaos in the city. It seemed that some of the sailors, tired of being prisoner on the ship, had escaped, Elizabeth's father told his family. "But why shouldn't they go?" asked Mother. "They weren't supposed to!" Father said angrily. "They were sick. All the crew and passengers on those ships were sick. Some have died. The crew tossed the bodies overboard." Mother put a hand to her mouth. "And they escaped?" she asked faintly. Father nodded. Elizabeth's younger brother, John, came inside. He had been playing with the other children. His face was bright red. "I don't feel good," he whined. "Go to sleep," Mother advised. She tucked him into the bed of straw and felt his forehead. John felt amazingly hot. She then noticed the faint purplish blotches on his arms and neck. That was when it all began. The next day, John was worse. He was burning hot and when he woke up, he didn't know where he was. The purple blotches stood out on his pale skin, now accompanied by dark blisters. His armpits were swelling up, too. Mother stayed by his side and wiped his face with a damp cloth when he complained of heat. Elizabeth watched, scared. Was this the sickness the officials had been talking about? Three days later. . . John was worse. The swelling under his arms had grown to the size of oranges. In the middle of the night, the family was awakened by a scream. John was writhing on the straw, screaming for all he was worth. Elizabeth stared at him in horror. His eyes were wide and crazy looking. Then Elizabeth noticed the redness on the straw. The swellings under John's arms had burst. Blood and pus was coming out, soaking the straw. "Oh my God!" Father whispered. Mother tentatively reached out and touched John's arm. He shrieked and hit out, barely missing her hand. Suddenly John's arms and legs went limp and he lay still. His eyes were still open with that wild look in them. Father examined him carefully and then said," He's dead." Mother started crying. Elizabeth just stared at the body of her brother. A tear squeezed out of her eye. It slowly slid down her cheek, leaving a streak in the dirt. Two weeks after the ships had arrived, thirty people had died, maybe more. The smell of death was everywhere. Elizabeth now carried posies in her pockets. It was believed that the smell of the flowers would drive away evil spirits. Town criers wandered around the city warning people about the illness. Many people believed that it was the wrath of God. They prayed for forgiveness and promised to do better. The population grew smaller as more and more people died from the mysterious illness. The wealthy managed to escape to castles and villas in the country. Everywhere she went, Elizabeth saw grief. Loved ones were mourned, bodies were taken to the church to be buried, including Elizabeth's friend, Beatrice the Tall, who had died a week and a half after John. While the population of people decreased, the population of rats increased. They roamed the sewers, eating what they could find. They nibbled the corpses that littered the street. Elizabeth was fearful for herself and her family. The same purple blotches that had appeared on John were now appearing on her father. He was getting weaker and weaker, almost unable to walk. He spent most of his days in bed. Five days after he got sick, he died in his sleep. They put the corpse outside their door. The next day, it was heard that the church's cemetery was getting too full. They now burned the bodies. Elizabeth cried and cried, thinking of her father's body, engulfed in flames instead of resting peacefully under the ground for eternity. The remainder of the children, including Elizabeth, made up a sing-song. It went like this. . . Pocket full of posies Ashes, ashes We all fall down! Their neighbor, Sandra the Good, caught the sickness. Four days later, she went insane. Her eyes became glassy and feverish and she was delirious. That night, she ran out of her house, screaming, until she reached the river, where she threw herself into the ice cold water. Her body was never found. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the illness disappeared. Elizabeth and her mother were thankful that they had been spared, though they mourned Father and John. Life continued as usual. But a week later, Elizabeth felt too hot. She lay down and went to sleep. When she woke up, she saw her mother crying, because she thought her daughter would die, too. "Why are you crying?" asked Elizabeth. Suddenly she started coughing. She covered her mouth. When she took her hands away, they were blood splattered. Feeling dizzy, Elizabeth went back to sleep. She woke up a day later. Her mother told her that she had woken up before, but she had been delirious. The straw Elizabeth slept on was turning a dull shade of red from the blood she was coughing up. Elizabeth was so weak, she couldn't lift up her arm and she had an extremely high fever. Summoning up her last breath, Elizabeth sang softly," Ring around the rosy, pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down!" Those were the last words she ever spoke. With a strangled cry, Elizabeth rolled onto the dirt floor and lay motionless. Her mother sobbed softly for a while, then went to call for the carriers to take Elizabeth's body to the mass burial site. |
Copyright 2001 by Chantessy