World Without End Page 0,510

lives. She had no doubt they were all but husband and wife: she had seen them kissing. But they were decades past the first flush of romance, and her intuition told her they could tolerate a part-time separation.

She said: "You would still be working together a good deal."

Claude said: "The archbishop will have many reasons to visit Kingsbridge and Shiring."

Henri said: "And the bishop of Kingsbridge will need to come to Monmouth often."

Claude said: "It would be a great honour to be bishop." With a twinkle in his eye he added: "Especially under you, archbishop."

Henri looked away, pretending not to notice the double meaning. "I think it's a splendid idea," he said.

Merthin said: "The Kingsbridge guild will back Claude - I can guarantee that. But you, Archbishop Henri, will have to put the suggestion to the king."

"Of course."

Caris said: "If I may make one suggestion?"

"Please."

"Find another post for Philemon. Propose him as, I don't know, archdeacon of Lincoln. Something he would like, but that would take him many miles from here."

"That's a sound idea," Henri said. "If he's up for two posts, it weakens his case for either one. I'll keep my ear to the ground."

Claude stood up. "This is all very exciting," he said. "Will you have dinner with us?"

A servant came in and addressed Caris. "There's someone asking for you, mistress," the man said. "It's only a boy, but he seems distressed."

Henri said: "Let him come in."

A boy of about thirteen appeared. He was dirty, but his clothes were not cheap, and Caris guessed he came from a family that was comfortably off but suffering some kind of crisis. "Will you come to my house, Mother Caris?"

"I'm not a nun any more, child, but what's the problem?"

The boy spoke fast. "My father and mother are ill and so is my brother, and my mother heard someone say you were at the bishop's palace and said to fetch you, and she knows you help the poor but she can pay, but will you please come, please?"

This type of request was not unusual, and Caris carried a leather case of medical supplies with her wherever she went. "Of course I'll come, lad," she said. "What's your name?"

"Giles Spicers, mother, and I'm to wait and bring you."

"All right." Caris turned to the bishop. "Go ahead with your dinner, please. I'll join you as soon as I can." She picked up her case and followed the boy out.

Shiring owed its existence to the sheriff's castle on the hill, just as Kingsbridge did to the priory. Near the market square were the grand houses of the leading citizens, the wool merchants and sheriff's deputies and royal officials such as the coroner. A little farther out were the homes of moderately prosperous traders and craftsmen, goldsmiths and tailors and apothecaries. Giles's father was a dealer in spices, as his name indicated, and Giles led Caris to a street in this neighbourhood. Like most houses of this class, it had a stone-built ground floor that served as warehouse and shop, and flimsier timber living quarters above. Today the shop was closed and locked. Giles led Caris up the outside staircase.

She smelled the familiar odour of sickness as soon as she walked in. Then she hesitated. There was something special about the smell, something that struck a chord in her memory that for some reason made her feel very frightened.

Rather than ponder it, she walked through the living room into the bedroom, and there she found the dreadful answer.

Three people lay on mattresses around the room: a woman of her own age, a slightly older man and an adolescent boy. The man was farthest gone in sickness. He lay moaning and sweating in a fever. The open neck of his shirt showed that he had a rash of purple-black spots on his chest and throat. There was blood on his lips and nostrils.

He had the plague.

"It's come back," said Caris. "God help me."

For a moment fear paralysed her. She stood motionless, staring at the scene, feeling powerless. She had always known, in theory, that the plague might return - that was half the reason she had written her book - but even so she was not prepared for the shock of once again seeing that rash, that fever, that nosebleed.

The woman lifted herself on one elbow. She was not so far gone: she had the rash and the fever, but did not appear to be bleeding. "Give me something to