World Without End Page 0,361

heathen practices - all are witchcraft, all are forbidden by God's holy church."

His real audience today was the thirty-two nuns standing behind him in the choir of the church. So far only a few had registered their opposition to Caris, and their support for Elizabeth, by refusing to wear the mask against the plague. As things stood, Caris would easily win next week's election. He needed to give the nuns the clear message that Caris's medical ideas were heretical.

"Anyone who is guilty of such practices -" he paused for effect, leaning forward and staring at the congregation - "anyone in town -" he turned and looked behind him, at the monks and nuns in the choir. "- or even in the priory -" he turned back. "I say, anyone guilty of such practices should be shunned."

He paused for effect.

"And may God have mercy on their souls."

Chapter 61

Paul Bell was buried three days before Christmas. All those who stood at his frosty graveside in the December cold were invited to the Bell to drink to his memory. His daughter, Bessie, now owned the place. She did not want to grieve alone, so she poured the tavern's best ale generously. Lennie Fiddler played sad tunes on his five-stringed instrument, and the mourners became tearful and maudlin as they got drunker.

Merthin sat in the corner with Lolla. At yesterday's market he had bought some sweet raisins from Corinth - an expensive luxury. He was sharing them with Lolla, teaching her numbers at the same time. He counted nine raisins for himself, but when he was counting out hers he missed every other number, saying: "One, three, five, seven, nine."

"No!" she said. "That's not right!" She was laughing, knowing that he was only teasing.

"But I counted nine each," he protested.

"But you've got more!"

"Well, how did that happen?"

"You didn't count them right, silly."

"You'd better count them, then, and see if you can do better."

Bessie sat with them. She was wearing her best dress, which was a bit tight. "Can I have some raisins?" she said.

Lolla said: "Yes, but don't let Daddy count them."

"Don't worry," Bessie said. "I know his tricks."

"Here you are," Merthin said to Bessie. "One, three, nine, thirteen - oh, thirteen is too many. I'd better take some away." He took back three raisins. "Twelve, eleven, ten. There, now you've got ten raisins."

Lolla thought this was hysterically funny. "But she's only got one!" she said.

"Did I count them wrong again?"

"Yes!" She looked at Bessie. "We know his tricks."

"You count them, then."

The door opened, letting in a blast of icy air. Caris came in, wrapped in a heavy cloak. Merthin smiled: every time he saw her, he felt glad she was still alive.

Bessie looked at her warily, but spoke a welcome. "Hello, sister," she said. "It's kind of you to remember my father."

Caris said: "I'm very sorry you have lost him. He was a good man." She, too, was being formally polite. Merthin realized that these two women saw themselves as rivals for his affections. He did not know what he had done to deserve such devotion.

"Thank you," Bessie said to Caris. "Will you have a cup of ale?"

"That's very kind, but no. I need to speak to Merthin."

Bessie looked at Lolla. "Shall we roast some nuts on the fire?"

"Yes, please!"

Bessie took Lolla away.

"They get on well together," Caris said.

Merthin nodded. "Bessie has a warm heart, and no children of her own."

Caris looked sad. "I have no children... but perhaps I haven't got the warm heart."

Merthin touched her hand. "I know better," he said. "You have such a warm heart you have to take care of not just one or two children but dozens of people."

"It's kind of you to see it that way."

"It's true, that's all. How are things at the hospital?"

"Unbearable. The place is full of people dying, and I can't do anything for them except bury them."

Merthin felt a surge of compassion. She was always so competent, so reliable, but the strain told on her, and she was willing to show it to him, if to no one else. "You look tired," he said.

"I am, God knows."

"I suppose you're worrying about the election, too."

"I came to ask for your help with that."

Merthin hesitated. He was torn by contradictory feelings. Part of him wanted her to achieve her ambition and become prioress. But then would she ever be his wife? He had a shamefully selfish hope that she would lose the election and