Another Me by Eva Wiseman Page B

hand and a pail full of leeches in the other. Natan took a quick look at them squirming in the pail before saying he would leave to scrounge for food.
    Once we were alone, the surgeon moved to Papa’s bed. “I’m sorry to tell you, mistress, that the plague has arrived in your home,” he announced portentously.
    “I can see that. But please, master, what can you do to help my father?”
    “Bloodletting will reduce the hotness of his blood. It may help in this case.”
    He ordered me to open Papa’s shirt, then he pulled the squirming leeches out of the pail and placed the nightmarish creatures on his chest. Papa moaned but seemed otherwise unaware of what was being done to him. I screwed my eyes shut.
    Once the leeches had done their work and were safely back in the pail, the surgeon took a long, sharp knife out of a sling by his side. He wiped it on his dirty apron and quickly lanced the boil on Papa’s neck. The sickening stench of rotten eggs permeated the chamber and made my stomach heave.
    I headed toward the window.
    “Don’t open it,” the surgeon said. “You don’t want fresh air on your father. In his weak condition, it might kill him.”
    I went to get a handkerchief instead and held it over my nose to stop myself from giving up my dinner in a most undignified manner.
    Papa still seemed unaware of his surroundings. He tossed and turned and thrashed his arms and legs.
    “He doesn’t seem to be any better,” I ventured to say as I counted silver coins into the surgeon’s palm.
    “It’ll take time. You must be patient,” he said. “Keep him comfortable. There’s nothing more to be done for now.” He turned in the doorway and added, “I regretto tell you, mistress, that I must place this dwelling under quarantine. Nobody goes in or out. I’ll notify city authorities.”
    I nodded and walked him downstairs. With a bow and a flourish of his hat, he was gone. As soon as he’d disappeared, I pushed a stout chair to the front door and slid its tall back under the handle. Nobody would be able to enter the house from the outside. I also walked around the main floor and made sure all the windows were locked.
    I had just finished my inspection when some loud banging from the street led me back to the front entrance.
    “Open the door! It’s me, Natan. I’ve brought us food.”
    “I can’t! We’re under quarantine. The red cross will be painted on our door very soon. It’s dangerous for you to come in.”
    “Don’t be silly, Elena. I’m not scared of the sickness.”
    “Then you’re a fool! Leave the food in front of the door and get as far away from this house as you can.”
    I turned a deaf ear to his appeals until he finally gave up and left. Only then did I open the door and retrieve a basket filled with dark bread and a pitcher of ale. I put some of the bread on a plate, poured the ale into a tankard and carried them upstairs. I couldn’t stir my father enough to make him eat, but I did wet his lipswith the ale. Then I went back downstairs and ate my own meal. It tasted like sawdust in my mouth.
    —
    The next day, Papa remained insensible. I tried to keep him as comfortable as I could by changing his bedding, giving him a dry shirt and wiping his brow and hands with cold water. Despite my ministrations, more boils appeared under his arms and in his groin area. I couldn’t think of anything else to do except to fall on my knees and beg God for his mercy. I prayed on my father’s behalf to the Lord Jesus and his mother, but they weren’t listening to me. Papa remained in torment.
    “Get better, Papa. Get better. I couldn’t bear to lose you!” I pleaded.
    He too remained deaf to my words.
    What if you catch the pestilence from him? a little voice whispered in my ear. You should leave while you still can, before you get sick too! There is nothing more you can do for him.
    I fell on my knees once again and prayed until I ran out of words. I begged our Lord to give me the strength to do