Damp trickles down the walls, and the smell mingles with the stench of mildew and hopelessness. Here they all lie, exhausted, scattered on the floor like bundles of clothes, trembling in the bitter cold: women, men, old people, children. They’ve all suffered the same fate – they’ve all ended up in the poorhouse. Decades of disease, war and ever colder weather have taken their toll on people. Families are torn apart – and those who don’t succumb to the hardships and die are left helpless without the means to feed themselves and their loved ones.
In every parish, the many poorhouses testify to the hard times. And once here – behind these walls of hunger and want – your fate is sealed. Because poverty sticks to you like pneumonia to a rasping throat, and the contagion spreads swiftly across the land.
But perhaps there’s a reason they’ve ended up here. After all, good, honest Christian folk shouldn’t need to go begging – maybe their distress is their own fault? Do they really deserve a handout if their fate is well deserved? Or are they tricksters, thieves, who will only drag others down with them? Perhaps there are evil powers at play behind their begging and their disgraceful lives – powers eager to get at you.
Put a coin in the poorhouse box – and stay well away!