England, 1349

She never usually visited the town, especially since women of her stature were discouraged to mix with the peasant folk, but it gave her pleasure to watch the busy activity of the people. They were a part of her, after all, a part of England.

She tried to ignore the stench of the streets as she walked, knowing that the villagers threw their wastes out of the windows above every morning. Those things were better left not thought of. After all, the common people did not have the resources of which the nobility often took advantage.

Her pleasant rounds around the shops and the houses came to an end when the sun reached the center of the sky, telling her that it was midday. She had better return to the castle before her king noticed her absence.

She sighed, not eager to part with her people, but immediately set of to return to the castle. Then, England was forced to stifle a scream when a pair of large, black rats ran right in front of her feet. Was there some sort of rat infestation in the town? She steadied herself for a few moments, trying to breathe evenly. It may have sounded weak (and France would have laughed at her for it) but she detested rats.

She jumped a little when she felt something brush against her leg. Rats! She started walking faster, hoping that her active movement would scare away any of those rodent pests still close enough to bother her. As England walked briskly, she tried to ignore the painful, itchy sting on her ankle.

***

Ring around the rosy

When England woke up the next morning, the first thing she felt was searing pain. She realized that, for some reason, she had a horrid headache. How much wine did she drink yesterday? Not more than the usual amount, she was sure. So why was she now suffering from one of the worst headaches of her long life?

Then she felt an irritating itch all over her body. Resisting the urge to scratch, she forced herself out of bed and walked to the looking glass. The sight of a rosy red rash on her arms and legs came as a shock.

What was wrong with her?

A knock on the door interrupted her bewildered self-examination, a servant girl came in to tidy the room followed by Anne's personal attendants. The women gasped as they too saw the rash that had come upon her body overnight.

England had no answers for their questioning looks. Helplessly she said, "Please inform the King that I am unfit to break fast with him this morning."

They just nodded, still shocked, and left her to dress herself. She couldn't blame them for wishing to stay away from her. This sickness could be contagious and she could only pray that she wouldn't be the one to spread the disease to everyone in the palace.

***

A pocketful of posies

The king had called for his physicians and the priests to examine her as soon as he found out about her condition. They restricted the access to her apartments in attempt to control the spread of the sickness.

Her condition seemed to be worsening, parts of her skin had started swelling and she often had spells of nausea. In the town, the symptoms of the sickness had started appearing on many others as well.

Currently, the priests and the physicians were recommending a number of different treatments for her illness. The priests believed that the disease was a sinner's punishment and believed that she should repent. Hence, she confessed all her sins to the priests a total number of three times that day.

While they prayed over her, the physicians insisted on examining the rashes in an attempt to find the cause of the disease. They told her that posies may help repel the illness somehow, so now, her rooms were filled with posies and her pockets had been stuffed full of the plant. The smell of the flower made England's nose itch but she found ways of enduring it. She tried to imagine the smell of roses instead of the posies and the incense the priests had brought with them.

After an hour of being surrounded by priests and physicians who were all attempting to cure her one way or another, she felt rather tired of the attention. Maybe, if they gave her a moment's rest and silence, the searing pain in her head would disappear on its own.

Just as she was about to fall asleep from exhaustion, a physicians voice brought her attention back to them again. "What's this bite on your ankle?"

She struggled to sit up and look at her ankle where two small bite marks were visible. Where had those come from? She tried to recall being bitten by anything and all that came to mind were those rats that had bothered her in the town the other day. "Rats," she murmured, lying back down.

"Interesting," the physician said, examining them further. As she listened to the priests' prayers and sounds of the physicians' further examinations, she eventually fell asleep.

***

Ashes, ashes

Everyone in her rooms was in a state of panic, the priests and physicians had just found out that the disease was actually fatal. Two others in the palace (a cook and a maid) had caught the illness, despite never interacting with her, and many more in the town had the disease now. Four people with the illness had already died from it.

England was relieved that the royal family had already fled to one of their private hunting lodges for their own protection. At least she didn't have to worry for them like she now worried for the rest of her nation. She hoped they would find a way to cure this pestilence soon.

In the last few days, her condition had gotten even worst. There were more buboes (or swellings) on her skin and, one in a while, they burst and leaked pus. Every part of her body seemed to ache and every time she attempted to eat anything, she always vomited it back out. The worst symptom so far was the ashy grey color her skin was adapting. According to the priests and physicians, it was one of the last symptoms before a person died.

***

We all fall down

England already felt like the living dead. She could hardly eat, drink, talk or even think. She felt nothing but helplessness and despair as she lay on her bed day after day. One small thing offered her a bit of comfort, though. If she was suffering, at least she was suffering with her people. She could share this pain with them instead of just watching them hurt so much.

Many of her people were now dead, lifeless. Was she going to die too? Was all of England going to fall to this disease? She already felt as if she was on the verge of dying yet for some reason, she always woke up to the pain.

As the country of her people, would she be deprived of the relief of death as long as someone in her country was still suffering? She didn't know. All she could feel was the overwhelming grief of the people and the merciless hold the sickness had on her.

Silently, she prayed for it to be over, a desperate plea for the pain to stop. Little did she realize that she would go through what would seem to be the longest wait in her life.

***

AN: Wow, I feel like the ending is really weak. So, if anyone has noticed, I posted a 4th chapter yesterday but I took it down because I was afraid it was too offensive. It was about the Chinese-English Opium Trade, therefore, about drugs. This chapter is to make up for that. The lack of America is saddening, I'll have to make up for that in the next part as well.

Historical Notes: This part of the story is based on the Black Death which plagued England during the 14th century. The symptoms include headaches, vomiting, nausea, rashes, swelling of the skin, and the skin turning into a greyish color. It was spread by a virus of fleas which infected rats. The nursery rhyme, Ring around the Rosy, is said to be connected to the Black Death, though the connection is unproven. 4 out of 5 people with the illness died, killing of a big percentage of England's population. It was one of the most horrible epidemics to strike Europe.