asking you to love me. I've just buried my father, and you've been disappointed by Caris, and we're both in need of someone warm to hold on to."
"To dull the pain, like a jug of wine."
She took his hand and kissed the palm. "Better than wine," she said. She pressed his hand to her breast. It was big and soft, and he sighed as he caressed it. She turned her face up, and he leaned down and kissed her lips. She gave a little moan of pleasure. The kiss was delicious, like a cold drink on a hot day, and he did not want to stop.
Eventually she broke away from him, panting. She stood upright and pulled her woollen dress over her head. Her naked body looked rosy in the firelight. She was all curves: round hips, round belly, round breasts. Still seated, he put his hands on her waist and drew her to him. He kissed the warm skin of her belly, then the pink tips of her breasts. He looked up at her flushed face. "Do you want to go upstairs?" he murmured.
"No," she said breathlessly. "I can't wait that long."
Chapter 62
The election for prioress was held on the day after Christmas. That morning, Caris felt so depressed she could hardly get out of bed. When the bell rang for Matins in the early hours, she was strongly tempted to put her head under the blankets and say that she did not feel well. But she could not pretend when so many were dying, so in the end she forced herself.
She shuffled around the ice-cold flagstones of the cloisters side by side with Elizabeth, the two of them at the head of the procession to the church. This protocol had been agreed because neither would yield precedence to the other while they were competing in the election. But Caris no longer cared. The result was a foregone conclusion. She stood yawning and shivering in the choir through the psalms and readings. She was angry. Later today, Elizabeth would be elected prioress. Caris resented the nuns for rejecting her, she hated Godwyn for his enmity, and she despised the town's merchants for refusing to intervene.
She felt as if her life had been a failure. She had not built the new hospital she had dreamed of, and now she never would.
She also resented Merthin, for making her an offer she could not accept. He did not understand. For him, their marriage would be an adjunct to his life as an architect. For her, marriage would have to replace the work to which she had dedicated herself. That was why she had vacillated for so many years. It was not that she did not want him. She longed for him with a hunger that she could hardly bear.
She mumbled the last of the responses and then, mechanically, walked out of the church at the front of the line. As they walked around the cloisters again, someone behind her sneezed. She was too dispirited even to look and see who it was.
The nuns climbed the stairs to their dormitory. When Caris entered the room she heard heavy breathing, and realized that someone had stayed behind. Her candle revealed the novice mistress, Sister Simone - a dour middle-aged woman, normally a conscientious nun, not one to malinger. Caris bound a strip of linen around her own face then knelt by Simone's mattress. Simone was perspiring and looking scared.
Caris said: "How do you feel?"
"Awful," Simone said. "I've had strange dreams."
Caris touched her forehead. She was burning hot.
Simone said: "Can I have something to drink?"
"In a moment."
"It's just a cold, I expect."
"You're certainly running a fever."
"I haven't got the plague, though, have I? It's not that bad."
"We'll take you to the hospital anyway," Caris said evasively. "Can you walk?"
Simone struggled to her feet. Caris took a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around Simone's shoulders.
As they were heading for the door, Caris heard a sneeze. This time she could see that it came from Sister Rosie, the plump matricularius. Caris looked hard at Rosie, who appeared scared.
Caris picked another nun at random. "Sister Cressie, take Simone to the hospital while I look at Rosie."
Cressie took Simone's arm and led her down the stairs.
Caris held her candle up to Rosie's face. She, too, was perspiring. Caris pulled down the neck of her robe. There was a rash of small purple spots over her shoulders and breasts.
"No," Rosie said. "No, please."
"It may be