The Beginning

It was in the 13th century, that a man discovered the disease. It was like no other, it cursed who contracted it to a life of misery. His skin would melt to the bone, many thought it was witchcraft, some said he paid for the sins of his past.

In the summers of the Moors, a young boy named Jasper ran across the wheat fields to his mother.

Upon his arrival she stood up, clasped her mouth in her hands and let out a frightening cry. The boy, only 14 at the time had shown signs of the fatal disease. The mother was devastated, what had taken over the kingdoms had claimed her son.

It was what they called the Black Death. Had she not told him not to go down to the shallows where deer fawns floated on the banks as lifeless husks? Had he drunk the water which caused this horror? She held him in her arms as he spurt blood.

Soon she was sitting in the pool of blood of her own child. The father did not know how to cure him of this devilry. Did he know any doctors in the Moors?