World Without End Page 0,384

that the bones had gone their luck had run out. The lack of precious crucifixes and candlesticks at the Sunday services was a weekly reminder that Kingsbridge was considered doomed. So why not get drunk and fornicate in the street?

Out of a population of about seven thousand, Kingsbridge had lost at least a thousand by mid-January. Other towns were similar. Despite the masks Caris had invented, the death toll was higher among the nuns, no doubt because they were continually in contact with plague victims. There had been thirty-five nuns, and now there were twenty. But they heard of places where almost every monk or nun had died, leaving a handful, or sometimes just one, to carry on the work; so they counted themselves fortunate. Meanwhile, Caris had shortened the period of novitiate and intensified the training so that she would have more help in the hospital.

Merthin hired the barman from the Holly Bush and put him in charge of the Bell. He also took on a sensible seventeen-year-old girl called Martina to nursemaid Lolla.

Then the plague seemed to die down. Having buried a hundred people a week in the run-up to Christmas, Caris found that the number dropped to fifty in January, then twenty in February. She allowed herself to hope that the nightmare might be coming to an end.

One of the unlucky people to fall ill during this period was a dark-haired man in his thirties who might once have been good-looking. He was a visitor to the town. "I thought I had a cold yesterday," he said when he came through the door. "But now I've got this nosebleed that won't stop." He was holding a bloody rag to his nostrils.

"I'll find you somewhere to lie down," she said through her linen mask.

"It's the plague, isn't it?" he said, and she was surprised to hear calm resignation in his voice in place of the usual panic. "Can you do anything to cure it?"

"We can make you comfortable, and we can pray for you."

"That won't do any good. Even you don't believe in it, I can tell."

She was shocked by how easily he had read her heart. "You don't know what you're saying," she protested weakly. "I'm a nun, I must believe it."

"You can tell me the truth. How soon will I die?"

She looked hard at him. He was smiling at her, a charming smile that she guessed had melted a few female hearts. "Why aren't you frightened?" she said. "Everyone else is."

"I don't believe what I'm told by priests." He looked at her shrewdly. "And I have a suspicion that you don't either."

She was not about to have this discussion with a stranger, no matter how charming. "Almost everyone who falls ill with the plague dies within three to five days," she said bluntly. "A few survive, no one knows why."

He took it well. "As I thought."

"You can lie down here."

He gave her the bad-boy grin again. "Will it do me any good?"

"If you don't lie down soon, you'll fall down."

"All right." He lay on the palliasse she indicated.

She gave him a blanket. "What's your name?"

"Tam."

She studied his face. Despite his charm, she sensed a streak of cruelty. He might seduce women, she thought, but if that failed he would rape them. His skin was weathered by outdoor living, and he had the red nose of a drinker. His clothes were costly but dirty. "I know who you are," she said. "Aren't you afraid you'll be punished for your sins?"

"If I believed that, I wouldn't have committed them. Are you afraid you'll burn in hell?"

It was a question she normally sidestepped, but she felt that this dying outlaw deserved a true answer. "I believe that what I do becomes part of me," she said. "When I'm brave and strong, and care for children and the sick and the poor, I become a better person. And when I'm cruel, or cowardly, or tell lies, or get drunk, I turn into someone less worthy, and I can't respect myself. That's the divine retribution I believe in."

He looked at her thoughtfully. "I wish I'd met you twenty years ago."

She made a deprecatory noise. "I would have been twelve."

He raised an eyebrow suggestively.

That was enough, she decided. He was beginning to flirt - and she was beginning to enjoy it. She turned away.

"You're a brave woman to do this work," he said. "It will probably kill you."

"I know," she said, turning to face him again. "But this is my