Witch of the Plague

Witch of the Plague - Day 7

The bells tolled night and day on the 7th of August…

Two men came early in the morning, ordering all cats and dogs in the household to be brought out, because they might have carried the Black Death on their fur.

“You will not take Thomas away from me,” Mama said.

“I am afraid miss, it’s our orders. You do not want to risk catching the Black Death coming from cats and dogs,” the men told her, pushing past. They both stopped. Their countenances became white and their fingers trembled. After a few minutes, one of the men spoke quietly:

“Would you like us to take that corpse away?” After we had carried Elizabeth’s body in last night, we had half-wrapped it in cloth, but stopped, grief overpowering us so badly that we sunk to our knees. Grandmamma nodded mutely, and they did so. We watched their cart trundle along the lane, wondering if we went to church later we would find she had a decent burial.

There were no songs from Mama as we walked to church- the death of Elizabeth must have affected her views on the Black Death for she carried a lucky talisman, hid Thomas in the cupboard, and drunk another herbal potion of hers. Depressingly, the bells tolled as we walked, for Elizabeth, perhaps. My heart was aching with the pain of losing her.

Robert and John tried to brush up their tears as we walked past the groups of raggle-taggle street children. They were huddled on the corners of roads, not running across the street causing hassle for the men rich enough to travel by horse. When we reached the church, it took some time for the door to be opened, and when it did, it was the priest’s oldest daughter, Ann who answered.

“We would like Father Thomas to pray for my deceased cousin,” I told her.

“Nay,” Ann murmured, and I wondered if he held a grudge against us because of the bell incident.

“We shall go to the priest in Theale then!” Mama cried. ‘Twas ten miles away, so she was obviously determined. She was clenching her fists again; I could see the madness inside her.

“’Tisn’t against you! Father cannot preach for he cannot read,” Ann muttered fearfully.

“Fie!” Grandmamma exclaimed, pushing Ann out the way and calling for Father Thomas. She stopped and turned back to us all.

“Father Thomas indeed cannot read, for he is dead,” she gasped, hand to her heart. I peered over her shoulder, and what I saw will stay with me forever: a whole family slumped on the floors, chairs and tables in pure agony, swelling buboes and black patches crawling over their skin, which they fervently itched. Robert sniffed into a cloth rag I did not know he had.

“How foolish we have been to come into an afflicted house!” I wailed, ushering everyone out. Ann stared forlornly after us.

I did not tend to Robert and John as Mama and Grandmamma tried all the cures on them. I could not bear to see them die before me. I was an outrageous coward, I know, but I had almost decided to run away, because I was scared to death. The next day, that decision was made for me.