At the beginning of what the grownups called “the Mortality”, the sound of the church bells terrified Giana. It meant another person had died, another soul fallen to the sickness that rode across the land like the Four Horsemen Father Vincoli talked about at chapel. Back then, Giana had prayed to Mother Mary to make the bells stop ringing. At least at nighttime so she could sleep. Now she wished she never made that prayer. Now so many people had died they didn’t bother to ring the bells at all, and the silence was worse than the ringing.

As Giana crossed the canals, she saw no boats floating by, only garbage and dead rats. Sadly, those who’d worked keeping the city clean of waste were amongst the first to go to the angels, so the city smelled as bad as it looked. The only other people besides Giana out on the streets were the flagellants, the men who Papa said whipped themselves because they thought God would spare them if they did, but God didn’t seem to spare anyone from the Mortality. If God had the kind of mercy Father Vincoli talked about at chapel, she certainly hadn’t seen it…the Final Judgement was close at hand.

But not even the apocalypse could spare Giana from her chores. Giana was on her way back from the miller’s. Her Papa was the best baker in Venice. Even the Doge himself bought her Papa’s bread. Well, his servants did the actual shopping, but still, it was served at his table and that’s what was important. Since Papa could not make his famous bread without flour, Giana still had to make her way to the miller’s every morning. When she was halfway home, she passed by a cart carrying the dead, and realized she’d forgotten the bouquet Papa had made her to protect against the harmful odors. She ran home as fast as she could before the bad smells could make her sick.

“Papa, I brought the flour!” Giana shouted as soon as she stepped in the shop. Papa didn’t answer, and Giana’s lungs were overwhelmed with smoke. She went back to the oven and saw Papa had burned his first batch of morning bread. Giana quickly put down the flour, and pulled the bread out of the oven.

Before she could make her way to the back to check on Papa, the door opened, and Giana saw a familiar face. It was her dear friend Marina who worked as a lady’s maid for the Doge's daughter, Francesca.

“Giana! What’s all this smoke?” Marina asked, concerned.

“I’m afraid we had an issue with our oven. There will be no fresh bread today.” Giana thought it best to blame the oven, so Papa didn’t get a bad reputation with the Doge.

“Oh! What terrible news! And at the worst possible time.”

“Worst possible time. What do you mean?”

“Did you not hear? They’ve put sanctions on the harbor because of the Mortality. No merchants can come in or out for forty days. So the Doge’s family is already doing without. Poor Francesca hasn’t had a strawberry in weeks, and you know how they’re her favorite!” Marina’s concern seemed genuine, but Giana could only dream her biggest fear in life was running out of strawberries. She’d only tasted the French fruit once, after Marina had snuck her some from the Doge’s store room.

“What’s the poor girl to do?” Giana replied, barely hiding her sarcasm.

“Well that’s actually what I came to talk to you about,” Marina smiled impishly. “Francesa and her sisters are heading to their house in the country to wait out this whole…” Marina waved her hand in the air dismissively, “...mess. And she said she just couldn’t live without your Papa’s breads and pastries. He’s the only one who makes them in the French style she likes. So, I was sent to see if the two of you wanted to accompany us to her chateau.”

Giana was stunned. Marina’s offer was a miracle! Not only would she and Papa get to stay in the Doge’s country villa instead of the rat and flea infested city that smelled like death, rotting garbage, vomit, and urine, but they could be safe from the Mortality! “Yes! Of course we’ll go!”

“Good. Go get your Papa and pack your things. We’re leaving within the hour. Francesca wants to get going before they ban carriages out of the city too!”

Giana ran upstairs to the humble single room apartment where she lived with her father. She couldn’t wait to tell him the news, but when she got upstairs, the door was locked.

“Papa!” Giana yelled through the door. “Let me in! It’s locked.”

“I’m sorry, Giana, but I can’t let you in. Not now. I’m not well --” Papa could barely speak before he was interrupted by coughing.

“You don’t understand! Marina is here! She asked us to come bake for Lady Francesca at her house in the country.”

“Good. That’s good.” Papa sounded relieved, but then he coughed again. “You should go…”

“But, Papa. The offer was for both of us. Don’t you understand? We can be safe from the Mortality! Together!”

“No...no, it’s too late for me. You should go, Gianna. GO!” Papa coughed again. He sounded really sick.