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 nothing at all,' Caris lied.
'I don't want to die of the plague!' Rosie said, her voice cracking.
Caris said quietly: 'Just keep calm and come with me.' She took Rosie's arm firmly.
Rosie resisted. 'No, I'll be all right!'
'Try saying a prayer,' Caris said. 'Ave Maria, come on.'
Rosie began to pray, and a moment later Caris was able to lead her away.
The hospital was crammed with dying people and their families, most of them awake despite the hour. There was a strong odor of sweaty bodies, vomit, and blood. The place was dimly lit by tallow lamps and the candles on the altar. A handful of nuns attended to the patients, bringing water and cleaning up. Some wore the mask, others did not.
Brother Joseph was there, the oldest of the monk-physicians and the most well liked. He was giving the last rites to Rick Silvers, the head of the jewelers' guild, bending to hear the man's whispered confession, surrounded by the children and grandchildren.
Caris made a space for Rosie and persuaded her to lie down. One of the nuns brought her a cup of clear fountain water. Rosie lay still, but her eyes shifted restlessly this way and that. She knew her fate, and she was frightened. 'Brother Joseph will come and see you shortly,' Caris told her.
'You were right, Sister Caris,' said Rosie.
'What do you mean?'
'Simone and I were among the original friends of Sister Elizabeth who refused to wear the mask - and look what has happened to us.'
Caris had not thought of this. Would she be proved horribly right by the deaths of those who disagreed with her? She would rather be wrong.
She went to look at Simone. She was lying down and holding the hand of Cressie. Simone was older and calmer than Rosie, but there was fear in her eyes, and she was gripping Cressie's hand hard.
Caris glanced at Cressie. There was a dark stain above her lip. Caris reached out and wiped it with her sleeve.
Cressie, too, was among the original group who had abandoned the mask.
She looked at the mark on Caris's sleeve. 'What is it?' she said.
'Blood,' said Caris.
The election took place in the refectory an hour before dinnertime. Caris and Elizabeth were side by side behind a table at one end of the room, and the nuns sat on benches in rows.
Everything had changed. Simone, Rosie, and Cressie lay in the hospital, stricken by the plague. Here in the refectory the other two who had originally refused the mask, Elaine and Jeannie, were both showing early symptoms, Elaine sneezing and Jeannie sweating. Brother Joseph, who had been treating plague victims without a mask since the beginning, had at last succumbed. All the remaining nuns had resumed wearing the masks in the hospital. If the mask was still a sign of support for Caris, she had won.
They were tense and restless. Sister Beth, the former treasurer and now the oldest nun, read a prayer to open the meeting. Almost before she had finished, several nuns spoke at once. The voice that prevailed was that of Sister Margaret, the former cellarer. 'Caris was right, and Elizabeth was wrong!' she cried. 'Those who refused the mask are now dying.'
There was a collective rumble of agreement.
Caris said: 'I wish it were otherwise. I'd rather have Rosie and Simone and Cressie sitting here voting against me.' She meant it. She was sick of seeing people die. It made her think how trivial everything else was.
Elizabeth stood up. 'I propose we postpone the election,' she said. 'Three nuns are dead and three more are in the hospital. We should wait until the plague is over.'
That took Caris by surprise. She had thought there was nothing Elizabeth could do to avoid defeat - but she had been wrong. No one would now vote for Elizabeth, but her supporters might prefer to avoid making any choice at all.
Caris's apathy vanished. Suddenly she remembered all the reasons why she wanted to be prioress: to improve the hospital, to teach more girls to read and write, to help the town prosper. It would be a catastrophe if Elizabeth were elected instead.
Elizabeth was immediately supported by old Sister Beth. 'We shouldn't hold the election in a panic, and make a choice we might regret later when things have calmed down.' Her statement sounded rehearsed: Elizabeth had obviously planned this. But the argument was not unreasonable, Caris thought with some trepidation.
Margaret said indignantly: 'Beth, you only say that because you know Elizabeth is going to lose.'
Caris held back from speaking, for fear of prompting the same argument against herself.
Sister Naomi, who was not committed to either side, said: 'The trouble is, we have no leader. Mother Cecilia, rest her soul, never appointed a subprioress after Natalie died.'
'Is that so bad?' Elizabeth said.
'Yes!' Margaret said. 'We can't even make up our minds who is to go first in the procession!'
Caris decided to risk making a practical point. 'There is a long list of decisions that need to be made, especially about inheritance of nunnery properties whose tenants have died of the plague. It would be difficult to go much longer with no prioress.'
Sister Elaine, one of the original five friends of Elizabeth, now argued against postponement. 'I hate elections,' she said. She sneezed, then went on: 'They set sister against sister and cause acrimony. I want to get this over with so that we can be united in the face of this dreadful plague.'
That raised a cheer of support.
Elizabeth glared angrily at Elaine. Elaine caught her eye and said: 'You see, I can't even make a pacific remark like that without Elizabeth looking at me as if I've betrayed her!'
Elizabeth dropped her gaze.
Margaret said: 'Come on, let's vote. Whoever is for Elizabeth, say: 'Aye.''
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Beth said quietly: 'Aye.'
Caris waited for someone else to speak, but Beth was the only one.
Caris's heart beat faster. Was she about to achieve her ambition?
Margaret said: 'Who is for Caris?'
The response was instant. There was a shout of 'Aye!' It seemed to Caris that almost all the nuns voted for her.
I've done it, she thought. I'm prioress. Now we can really begin.
Margaret said: 'In that case - '
A male voice suddenly said: 'Wait!'
Several nuns gasped, and one screamed. They all looked at the door. Philemon stood there. He must have been listening outside, Caris thought.
He said: 'Before you go any farther - '
Caris was not having this. She stood up and interrupted him. 'How dare you enter the nunnery!' she said. 'You do not have permission and you are not welcome. Leave now!'
'I'm sent by the lord prior - '
'He has no right - '
'He is the senior religious in Kingsbridge, and in the absence of a prioress or a subprioress he has authority over the nuns.'
'We are no longer without a prioress, Brother Philemon.' Caris advanced toward him. 'I have just been elected.'
The nuns hated Philemon, and they all cheered.
He said: 'Father Godwyn refuses to permit this election.'
'Too late. Tell him Mother Caris is now in charge of the nunnery - and she threw you out.'
Philemon backed away. 'You are not prioress until your election has been ratified by the bishop!'
'Out!' said Caris.
The nuns took up the chant. 'Out! Out! Out!'
Philemon was intimidated. He was not used to being defied. Caris took another step toward him, and he took another back. He looked amazed by what was happening, but also scared. The chanting got louder. Suddenly he turned around and scurried out.
The nuns laughed and cheered.
But Caris realized that his parting remark had been true. Her election would have to be ratified by Bishop Henri.
And Godwyn would do everything in his power to prevent that.