Up until the XIII century, writes Tenenti, a tightly Christian figuration of death doesn't exist. From the middle of the XV century, with the advent of the great epidemics, the plague that reaped million of victims, the fear of the incumbent death had a certain effect even on the figurative art of profane kind. At that time The Legend of the three dead and the three living, in which three characters who in their lives had been rich and powerful talk about themselves and about vanitas (vanity) to similar persons of high rank, in the presence of death, was widely publicised.
The most normal representation is that of a skeleton armed with a scythe, a tool that connects it to Cronus, the God of time who becomes an auxiliary element of death. It is even possible to find it with an arc or a sword in its hand. It keeps these instruments even when it is represented on horseback, in the role of one of the Four Riders of the Apocalypse (figure 1 - Anonymous, woodcutting, XVI century) or in the representations of the Triumph by Petrarca, in which it is sat down, with a scythe in its hand, above a wagon driven by psycopomp oxen (from the Greek ψυχοπομπóς, from psyche - soul - and pompós - the one who conducts) whose duty is to accompany the souls of the dead on their trip after death (figure 2 - Philip Galle, Triumph of Death, etching, XVI century).
The characters that accompany its wagon or that are stamped on , belong to rich and powerful social classes, secular or religious, people that because of their privileges were able to live a rich life and to whom death appeared much more devastating than for those miserable farmers who continually died like flies and who, all things considered, had neither health nor treasures to complain about abandoning  following their departure from this earth.
The most ancient representation known about death on horseback, stamping on people and brandishing a sword against those alive, is found in a fresco from the middle of the IV century, near the Benedictine monastery of the Sacro Speco (Sacred Cave) in Subiaco (figure 3).
Around the middle of the XV century, alongside the iconography of death and its triumphs, the reason for the Dance Macabre developed, at first with moralistic intents, with strong images connected to the “Memento Mori” and then as satire against the corruption and the splendour of the wealthy classes (figure 4 / figure 5 - Hans Holbein the Young, xilographs,1547).
Death dancing, dragging into its passing dance the whole of humanity, has been another inspiring motive for many musicians since the Middle Ages.
In the XVII century Stefano Landi wrote a famous musical passacaglia, “of life”, whose verses are: “O come t’inganni / se pensi che gl’anni / non hann’ da finire / bisogna morire. / È un sogno la vita / che par si gradita, / è breve il gioire, / bisogna morire./ Non val medicina, non giova la China, / non si può guarire, bisogna morire. / Non vaglion sberate, / minarie, bravate / che caglia l’ardire, / bisogna morire. / Non si trova modo / di scioglier ‘sto nodo, / non val il fuggire, / bisogna morire. / Commun’è il statuto / non vale l’astuto / ‘sto colpo schermire, / bisogna morire. / Si more cantando, / si more sonando / la Cetra , o Sampogna, / morire bisogna. / Si more danzando, / bevendo, mangiando; / con quella carogna / morire bisogna. / La Morte crudele / a tutti è infedele, / ogn’uno svergogna, / morire bisogna. / È pur ò pazzia / o gran frenesia, / per dirsi menzogna, / morire bisogna. / I Giovani, i Putti, / e gli Huomini tutti / s’ hann’a incenerire /, / bisogna morire. / I sani, gl’infermi, / i bravi, gl’inermi, / tutt’ hann’a da finire / bisogna morire. / E quando che meno / ti pensi, nel seno / ti vien a finire, / bisogna morire. / Se tu non vi pensi / hai persi li sensi, / sei morto e puoi dire: / bisogna morire”. (Oh how wrong you are to think that the years will never end. We must die. Life is a dream, that seems so sweet, but joy is all too brief. We must die. Medicine is of no avail, quinine is of no use, we cannot be cured. We must die. Worthless are lamentations, threats, bravado produced by our courage. We must die. No learned doctrine can find the words to calm this boldness. We must die. There is no means to untie this knot, it is useless to flee. We must die. It is the same for everyone, a wily man cannot shield himself from the blow. We must die. We die singing, we die playing the cittern, the bagpipe, yet die we must. We die dancing, drinking, eating;  with this carrion, die we must. Cruel Death is unfaithful to all, and shames everyone. Die we must. And yet, o madness o ravings, it seems like lying to oneself. Die we must. Youths, children, and all men must end in dust. We must die. The healthy, the sick, the brave, the defenceless, must all come to  an end. We must die. And when you are least thinking of it, in your breast, everything comes to an end. We must die. If you do not think of this, you have lost your senses, you are dead and you can say: We must die).
The images of Death in the tarots stick to the most usual versions with the presence of the skeleton: if in the Visconti Sforza Tarots it is represented standing on its feet, with a great arc in its hand (figure 6), in those of Charles VI (figure 7) and in the Visconti Tarots of Yale (figure 8) it appears on horseback brandishing a scythe and stamping on popes, bishops and cardinals.
Such iconography remains unchanged in the card of Death in all its subsequent production, including the one by Wirth, even if soaked in values of an esoteric character (figure 9).
The Number 13 that denotes the card in the past, was considered bad luck. In the Bible the thirteenth chapter of the Apocalypse is that of the Antichrist and of the Beast. An ill-omened number therefore, but also the most powerful and sublime: Zeus in the procession of the twelve Gods was  thirteenth, while Ulysses, the thirteenth of his group, escaped the devouring appetite of the Cyclops.