Diary entry - 4/18/1312

Had a very good day today. Woke up early, as the rain had broken through the straw roof. Again. Me bed of leaves is in need of replacement. Being winter, however, there’s no leaves about, so I just may need to take some straw from the roof. Also will have to sweep out the reed floor, because of all the mud, crumbs and animal drippings. Michael is suffering from dysentery, as well, and has done a number on the floor more than once.

Ate porridge with some ripe cheese. Not too many maggots in the cheese this morning, which I took as a sign things is turning ‘round a bit. After breakfast, left my seven-year-old son Jean, to plow the field with Lord Marat’s ox I borrowed. I prayed nothing would happen to the beast, as I need the boy to live. He's strong for a seven-year-old! I took some wheat up to Lord Marat’s mill. He was generous in only taking one sixth of me wheat in exchange for using his mill. Milling didn’t take too long. After went out to work in the Lord’s field.

Saw a wild boar while working the carrots. Oh, I would have liked to have killed it and had a nice feast for the others, but not really worth being killed for, now is it? Especially right on the heels of watching Charles burned alive for killing those wild ducks. Lord Marat doesn’t take kindly to killing wild game on his land. Anyway, I’ve got bread and ale waiting for me tonight.

Heard John’s arm fell off yesterday. Shame that. He had a problem with the fungus in his rye flour over the winter, so it’s not a big surprise. I knew he had turned blotchy red. Apparently, he’s just babbling and staring at the sky now. Hopefully Lord Marat can find something for him to do that just requires one arm. It’s a shame it happened now, right after he paid Lord Marat a death duty and a fine for inheriting his father’s land. Losing his best pig and then having to give his second best pig to the church as an inheritance tax, and now an arm? Seems a bit too much for one man to bear.

The boy came by the field to tell me the priest had stopped by to collect the tithe. Five eggs, bag of flour, basket of firewood, 1/10th of me wheat and a chicken. Don’t get me started on them priests, livin’ the life up there, with all the food they want and going at it with all those young boys.

Just then, a crowd comes down the road, making noise and carrying signs. I saw Gaston and asked him what was going on. He says the King wanted to take an extra 3% in taxes from Lord Marat. Can you imagine? Three percent?!?! Course, I was enraged. We all were - even though he's going to use the money to give we peasants a bit more wheat. I grabbed me pitchfork and joined the mob, as we marched through the village. How dare the King Philip make Lord Marat pay more taxes! It’s an outrage! When’s it going to stop! Someone called it a “Porridge Party.” Not sure why, something about that time when they tossed all that porridge in the Reine because of the church taken too high a tithe. Whatever, porridge party is a good name as any, but it’s still just another indignation meeting. It was odd to have some of the knights involved in this one, especially after they raped me brother’s wife and daughters before killing him. Jacque actually said a couple of the knights started this march. We ended up burning down the local garrison. The king’s knights ran like women. It was a damned good time.

When I got home, learned me wife had gone into labor and died during birth, while I was at the porridge party. The baby died, as well. And to top it off, me youngest son, Lawrence, succumbed to the Black Death. What a fucking day! After the tithe and giving the wheat to use the mill, I haven’t anything left to hire gravediggers, so I spent the night with a hoe digging graves for me family. The whole time I was digging, I still couldn’t get that 3% out of me mind. Lord Marat has to pay a whole 3% to the King?!?!? Enough is enough! I expect more Porridge Parties!

FearTheReaper is a writer, actor and stand up comedian. Check back each Tuesday and Friday for more from FearTheReaper