"Not that. Not exactly. I was thinking more on the lines of an unsuspecting carrier."
"That has been checked. None of the residents of the afflicted areas are or could be carriers. The outbreak is recent, a resident carrier would have been spotted long ago."
"Recent-so who has come to Esslin within the immediate past? Visitors? Relatives? And what of Hylda Vroom's slaves?"
"You cover old ground. I've checked. In any case the slaves arrived after the first reports of the sickness."
"Which leaves us what?" Tamiras frowned in thought. "Who else? Who could have arrived and-" He looked up to meet Gustav's eyes. "The monks."
"The monks? No!"
"Why not? Oh, I'm not talking about a deliberate attempt to spread infection, I'd be the first to defend them from that accusation, but what about a carrier? A man who doesnt even know he carries hnaudifida and spreads it in sheer ignorance."
"A monk-but his companions?"
"Could be immune. It happens, Gustav, and on other worlds they may not be as prone to the disease as we are here on Esslin. Mind you, I make no accusation. It is a possibility and perhaps a remote one. But it could be the answer."
"No." Gustav shook his head. "You're forgetting something. They have been here for some time now-if one was a carrier then why has the disease taken so long to show itself."
"The carrier could be a recent arrival."
"And the rest?" Gustav moved some of his papers, selected one, ran his eyes over the list of figures. "The monks stay in the city close to the field. How could they have been in contact with slaves residing on distant estates and so far apart from each other? The thing is impossible."
Tamiras said, "The Festival. You're forgetting the Festival."
The three-day period when harsh discipline was relaxed and carnival prevailed. A safety valve to release pent up emotions, anger and resentment allowed to boil away in dancing and drunken orgies and wild abandon. A time in which the wise kept to their homes and only the guards were out in force.
"The Festival," said Tamiras again. "The monks were here before it and the contacts could have been made then." Casually he added, "And don't forget that one of the monks died. It might be interesting to find out from what."
The body had gone, converted into ash and basic constituents and returned to the universe from which they had been formed. Brother Juba was now nothing but a memory and the work which three had handled must now be completed by two. But not for long. Already replacements were on the way now that the Church had received grudging permission to establish itself on Esslin. The first pecarious foothold which must be strengthened with younger blood and more resilient sinew.
The cycle which Remick had experienced before but now doubted if he would again. He would stay-few monks ever retired to spend their last days in the beautiful tranquility of Pace where they served to the last in bringing comfort to those tormented by mental anguish or physical pain. He would stay and Brother Echo would stay and they would die here on this world and be burned and remembered for a while and then forgotten as those memories were erased by time.
But something of them both would remain as something of Juba would linger. A hand lifted to strike and then lowered with the intended victim untouched, a degree of tolerance intended where none had been evident before, a moment of concern for another instead of blank indifference-these things would be their monument.
To the guards who came to close the church he said, "What is this? We have the permission of the Matriarch."
"Shut up!" The back of the woman's hand bruised his lips in a casual blow. "Where is the body of the one who died?" She scowled when he told her. "Burned? How about his effects?"
She collected them as he watched, hands deft within their gloves, her bulk taut in places against the transparent membrane which covered her. A garment Remick had seen before and he restrained Echo as the man began to protest.
"Leave them, Brother."
"But Juba! His things!"
Scraps and pieces without intrinsic worth. A piece of well-rubbed stone which he had found when a lad and found a tactile pleasure in its contact A faded smear of pigments which could have been the likeness of a woman's face or the abstract swirls of a fevered brain. A pocket maze with little steel balls running in an elaborate pattern of garish colors. A kaleidosope. A device for producing bubbles from soapy water. A pair of hand puppets. A lip-flute. A book filled with entrancing pictures.
Juba had always liked children.
Remick watched as they were thrown into a sack, the small accumulation which was the sum total of a life. As the guard straightened he said quietly, "How bad is it?"
"What?"
"The sickness. How bad is it?"
A question Gustav answered later when, leaving the church and Echo under guard, the woman bustled him to a room in the palace.
Gustav also wore a prophylactic membrane as did the medical technicians who came to take samples of blood and tissue from the unresisting monk. As they left Gustav gestured to a table bearing wine and small cakes.
"Eat and drink if you wish. This may take a little time."
To starve and thirst would accomplish nothing. Remick helped himself to a cake and goblet of wine. The cake was scented with a delicate fragrance, the wine held body and warming strength.
"A disease," he said. "I had heard rumors but nothing was certain. How bad is it?"
"Bad enough. How did the other monk die?"
"Juba? He was old."
"And age killed him? That alone?"
"It helped." Remick did not mention the rough handling of the guards. "He was not diseased, brother. You have my assurance on that."
"How can you be sure? Living as you do, moving from one poverty-stricken area to another, eating when you can, always in contact with the sick-you recognize the possibility?"
Remick said quietly, "Hnaudifida has an incubating period of six days. The first symptoms are headaches, fatigue, lassitude and irritation. Then comes a mild fever and aching of the joints. The first eruptions usually become manifest on the softer regions of the body: the armpits, the groin, the insides of elbows and knees. Sometimes on the face and neck. After four days the lassitude has increased to a point where voluntary movement is resisted and the fever rages with a higher intensity. The eruptions spread and form oozing ulcers. There is a general loss of bodily fluids. The patient becomes incontinent and care must be taken to see that vomit is not sucked into the lungs. After the second week death is inevitable. How many cases have been reported to date?"
"Thirty-nine."
"Isolated?"
"Yes, thank God."
"Slaves?" Remick had expected the nod. "You may expect another two hundred percent to fall sick and of those about fifteen percent will recover if given the proper care. They will then be immune to hnaudifida." Pausing he added, "As Brother Juba was immune. As both Brother Echo and I are immune."
"You have all had the disease?"
"No, nor many others we have been innoculated against. Surely, brother, you did not think the Church so irresponsible as to send devastation among others. No monk is a carrier. All monks have been protected as far as medical science will allow against a variety of ills. How else can we do our work treating the sick?"
A thing Gustav should have known. A thing he should have guessed and yet why should he have suspected? How well did he know the monks? They came and worked among the poor and it was hard to remember that they were products of a high technology which used all knowledge and skills to achieve efficiency. He remembered things he had heard; of the long training each monk had to undergo, the conditioning and indoctrination and acquiring of ability. The poverty they displayed was real, a defense against the sin of pride, for only by rejecting possessions could they give full attention to their supplicants.