Tall Tech Tales And Other Short Stories

The Wrath of God (Historical Smackdown 1.1)

I jumped straight up as the door to my room slammed open. Our housekeeper stood in the doorway, a candle flickering in her hand, sweat visible on her face, her eyes bulging, breathing heavily. Her eyes darted around the room as she stepped up to my bed and pulled the covers off.

"Get up, Jacob. Get dressed and come downstairs. It's time."

I felt a butterfly in my stomach as I bounced out bed, instantly awake. I put on my pants and tunic while the housekeeper opened my closet and picked up my bag. She disappeared down the stairs while I struggled with my shoes.

As I followed her down the stairs, I paused mid-way to the front door. I looked down the hallway to the right of the staircase, a large, wooden door with intricate carvings at the end. I felt my heart beating faster and a chill ran down my spine. Those were his quarters and the door was closed. Was he not coming? Why was I leaving without him?

"Is Father coming too?" I shouted in the direction of the housekeeper. She stopped and looked over her shoulders without saying a word. Her silence confirmed my suspicion and I felt a rock in my stomach and a cold sweat break out on my forehead. He had to come, didn't he? I sprinted down the hallway while the housekeeper protested behind me. "Jacob, stop. Do not go in there, you cannot. It is not allowed."

I paused at the closed door for a few mere moments while the steps of the approaching housekeeper echoed through the entrance hall behind me. Did I really want to go in there? What was I going to see? Would the man that took me in also be the reason I had to leave? Deep inside, I knew the answer but refused to believe it. I had to know, I had to see for myself.

With determination, I pushed the door open and gagged at the stench that emanated from the room inside. Lit only by the flames of the fireplace, shadows danced on the walls as I stepped through, involuntarily holding my breath as I covered my nose and mouth with my arm.

His bed was centered against the far wall, the large stained glass windows on each side of the headboard dark. It was early still, the sun still below the horizon. A silver crucifix with Christ crucified hung between the windows. On the far side of the bed, a nurse with a face mask held a wet towel up against the head of a figured completely covered by a thin sheet.

As I entered, I saw the figure beneath the sheets stir and turn towards me. A hand appeared from beneath the covers and pulled them down enough for the face of my master to emerge. His eyes were large, his breathing labored. The skin of his face glistened with sweat.

"Jacob," he started as I approached. "You shouldn't be here."

"Father," I said and bowed at the hips as I had been thought. "I had to see you, to say good-bye."

A laugh escaped the old man's lips that instantly turned into a deep cough. "Good-bye? Where are you going, son?" he said before he succumbed to a coughing fit. He stretched out his blackened fingers towards me. "The church will triumph over this evil, sent by Satan and his hordes. This, this disease, it's but a trial. It too shall pass and I, the Patriarch of Constantinople, shall persevere, for God is with me," he cackled, his hand gesturing wildly.

"Of course, Father," I said as I felt the color drain from my face. He was afflicted.

The housekeeper approached from behind and grabbed my arm. "Jacob," she hissed, "You shouldn't be in here."

"Is he?" I said hesitantly, my question towards the housekeeper incomplete. She nodded.

"His sins are finally catching up to him," I said and immediately regretted my words, even though I knew in my heart they were true.

"God will reward me for my faithfulness," Father rambled on, oblivious to the others.

The housekeeper slapped me on my cheek. "How dare you call the Patriarch a sinner," she hissed. "He saved your life when your family died all those years ago. If it wasn't for him, you'd be dead."

"That doesn't make him less of a sinner," I said defiantly.

"Enough of your nonsense," she said as she dragged me out of the room. She knew I was right though. She had lived in the household of the Patriarch of Constantinople longer than I had. It was impossible that the things he did in the shadow passed unnoticed. They certainly hadn't to me. Women late at night, some off of the street, some the wives of the nobility. Drinking, fits of anger, gambling. I had seen it all. There was no doubt in my mind that the Patriarch was paying for his sins, unrepentant as he was.

As the door to his chambers slammed shut behind us and his voice faded, my chest tightened and had to fight to draw deep breaths. I wanted to shed a tear for the man but they wouldn't come. Instead, I was pulled out of the residence and loaded into a carriage. The housekeeper held my hands longer than she had before and locked eyes with me. She gave me a tentative smile and nodded as a tear slid down her cheek.

"Take care of yourself, Jacob. Alexandria is a long journey ahead."

"Will you be ok?" I asked, my voice failing, as she stepped away, nodded and wiped the tears from her cheek.

"I'll be fine. Now go," she shouted to the driver and then turned and walked back up the stairs and into the residence.

As my journey to safety began, I couldn't help but wonder if my escape to Alexandria was in vain. After all, if God's representative couldn't escape his wrath, what chance did I really have?

~~~

998 words, written for the Historical Smackdown 1.1 in July 2018 - It's my short take on the effects of plague in Constantinople in the 14th century, a disease that affected everyone.