The year was 1348; a terrible year in Europe, for this was the start of the Bubonic Plague, known more commonly as the Black Death. In the city of Paris alone, around 800 victims succumbed to this horrible illness every day. The symptoms were horrid, and the pain was unimaginable. One city that was being harshly stricken by the plague was Versailles, where our tale begins…
Ring around the rosies,
Pocket full of posies,
Ashes, Ashes,
We all fall down.
The golden sun had just risen on the eastern French skyline, with the last traces of night easing into the daylight. The purple sky turned to pink, and finally faded to turquoise. Church bells tolled through the valleys and hills of Versailles, France, greeting the sunny day. A wooden cart was being pulled up a hill by two physicians, and inside the cart were a few dead, blackened bodies of the latest victims of the Black Death. The man on top was Doc Saturday, Drew Saturday's ex-husband. Although they were divorced, the peasant woman felt terrible, and she fell to her knees and wailed as he was dragged away to the local church, where he would be given his last rights before being buried in a mass funeral. Her son, Zak, joined her side, and they held each other close, weeping.
"He's in Heaven now; he's going to see God soon." Drew repeated this over and over to calm Zak, but mostly to reassure herself. They sat for a while and wallowed in their grief, watching the little cart until it went over the hill, fading into the distance. Drying her tears with her apron, the poor woman returned to work on the small field that her family had to grow crops. Zak came along to help, feeding their chickens and the few pigs they had for food. They labored thought the day, taking occasional breaks to simply hug one another at the loss of Zak's father. Drew would often think about what would happen if the plague ever reached their town, and now that it had, she was worried sick for her family. Chills ran down Zak's spine whenever he saw one of the body carts go by, wondering how many hearts were shattered as the people who knew them watched their loved ones die.
Around dinner time, as the day drew to a close, Drew's new husband returned home, with Zak's uncle close behind. The two men made their living as thieves, sneaking around at the market all day, subtly swiping some food or other goods from unsuspecting merchants. Occasionally, they would get caught, and a wild goose chase would follow, with an angry mob chasing them down the street, but they had somehow managed to avoid being arrested. Even though it was a dishonest way of life, the men managed to provide for their peasant family. Zak and Drew strolled back to the shack that they called home, and met with the thieves. After a kiss on the cheek from Drew's second husband, Leonidas Van Rook, she began to prepare supper, which was normally a little more than enough to keep everyone from starving.
"Hey, Doyle!" Zak said, trying to stay positive, so as not to oppress his uncle's normally cheerful mood.
"Hi, miniman" Doyle replied, still unaware of Doc's death.
"So, anything good at the market today?"
"It's a pretty good haul, if I do say so myself." The red haired man smiled, and swung the knapsack from his shoulder, its contents spilled onto the small table in the middle of the room. Van Rook did the same, causing the weak table to shift under the weight. A small cheese wheel, a bottle of red wine, a few shucks of corn, and various other fruits and vegetables covered the table, and Zak's mouth began to water at the sight of such a feast.
"Wow, good job!" Zak commented, his stepfather giving him a big hug, accompanied by a smile.
The peasant family gathered around the table, and sat down for the best meal they had in weeks. During the meal, Drew broke the news of Doc's death, a feeling of gloom hanging above them like a raincloud. Doc's little house had already been burned to the ground, the same fate of every infected house, an effort to stop the plague from spreading. They all said a prayer for Doc, and continued to inhale their dinner.
"I hate to discuss death, but everyone at the market was raving about the shift in the government. King Argost died last night, so there'll be a big uproar over who will replace him. The plague caught up to him; turns out that being royalty doesn't make you immortal" Van Rook said in his Russian accent, having traveled all the way to France to escape the ruthless czars of his homeland.
"Argost died? He probably got infected by someone in his inner circle" Zak said gloomily, having been a big fan of the former king.
"I say he deserved it, that uptight scoundrel had it coming" Doyle chimed in, running his fingers through his bizarre hairstyle.
"That's terrible! No one should have to suffer from such a terrible sickness! Besides, he wasn't the worst king I've seen" Drew scolded her brother, casting a hostile look towards him.
"Sorry, Sis, but maybe some people have-"
"Come on, you're both too old for sibling rivalry" Van Rook interrupted, rolling his blue eyes the way he always does when he's angry.