“If you take one pill a day, it’s a preventative,” said the scholar. “Take twelve a day, for five days, it’s a cure. You should have enough to give two pills to any monk who had contact with him.”
“And you want me to give the rest to Benjamin?”
“If you want to save his life. It is not usually lethal, but he is so old and feeble…”
“Old yes, feeble no. But I don’t understand how you happened to have these with you. You called it Hilbert’s disease?”
Thon Santalot looked around the empty refectory. It was almost time for lunch. Beside the abbot, only Brother Cook and Brother Reconciliator were listening. “Thon Hilbert’s disease is no longer a secret, really, I suppose. Our forces have prophylaxis—these pills—and the invaders don’t”
“Go about your business,” said the abbot to the other monks. When they were gone, he asked Santalot, “Are you saying that Hannegan’s military is deliberately spreading the disease in the Province?”
“Certainly. Those who wage war have always used disease, Domne. Pestilence is one of the horsemen of the Apocalypse, is it not?”
Olshuen shook his head. “No. Well, there are various interpretations.”
“You must remember that a sexual disease was one of the weapons used in the so-called Flame Deluge. A disease was used by Hannegan Two on the Plains back in the last century.”
“But Hannegan’s was a plague of cattle, not human beings.”
“Well, yes, it is being used again on cattle. Horses too. That was part of Hilbert’s work. He isolated the microorganisms. Today, we can infect the Nomad’s animals directly, without driving diseased herds among them.”
“How is that done?”
“I’m not sure. The cavalry carries it around in bottles. It can be sprayed from upwind, I think.”
“You called it Hilbert’s disease,” murmured the abbot, who often became quiet when astonished. “Who is Hilbert?”
“Thon Brandio Hilbert is, or was, a brilliant epidemiologist, formerly occupying the Chair of Life Science at Hannegan University.”
“Was? Formerly? Is he dead?”
“No, he’s alive, but he’s in jail. He conscientiously objected to the military use of his work. Well, here they come for lunch, Domne, and I must return to my research. Thank you, Brother Cook, for feeding me at this odd hour.”
As they left the refectory, the abbot knelt to pray at the feet of the wooden figure of another conscientious objector who had founded the Order. Olshuen managed to pray for the Pope’s soul and the Pope’s beloved son errant, the Emperor, without mentioning victory in battle. He prayed only briefly, then returned to the refectory with his flock to consume his daily bread, red beans, and milk. Afterward, he took the pills to the old Jew.
The cure was effective. A week later, the patient returned to his mesa after leaving instructions for decontamination of the cell he had occupied. The procedure involved burning sulfur and leaving the cell vacant for several months, during which time it could not serve its designed purpose, if and when the need for a whore-hut arose.
If Singing Cow resented the abbot’s midsummer summons, he kept it to himself, but his return from New Jerusalem did not seem a happy homecoming for him. Olshuen suppressed his eagerness for news of Brownpony’s Crusade, for Cow seemed half-dead of heat exhaustion, and he let him rest for a day before interrogation. But on the following day, the prior of Saint Leibowitz-in-the-Cottonwoods claimed ignorance of the doings of the Papal Court. Further, said Father Moo, the relations between his priory and the government of Magister Dion could not be affected by the Crusade, because no such relations existed, by Brownpony’s design. When Olshuen wanted to discuss Sister Clare-of-Assisi, Singing Cow knew her only as Blacktooth’s Ædrea; and since this knowledge had come to him through the confessional he would say nothing about her, nor would he listen patiently to the abbot’s gentle slanders.
The abbey had accepted seven Jackrabbit refugees as postulants that season, so Singing Cow’s old cell was occupied. The abbot put him in the guesthouse with the Wilddog postulant and Thon Elmofier Santalot after telling him what Santalot had said about Hilbert’s disease. Father Moo remained expressionless. Dom Abiquiu went away with a faint smile. He had not asked Singing Cow to question the scholar.
Three weeks elapsed, and no one else at the abbey became infected. Singing Cow requested permission to return to Leibowitz-in-the-Cottonwoods. Olshuen realized that it had been a minor mistake to summon him, but he was reluctant to let him go without putting him to good use first.
“I want you to go over all the work that Brother St. George left behind, not only the Boedullaria, but also the Duren manuscripts, and see if you can make a glossary…”
A cloud of dust arose far to the south of Sanly Bowitts. At the time, three novices happened to be standing on the parapet wall, where they were recording the altitude and azimuth of the sun for comparison with an ephemeris; the purpose was to reset the monastery’s clock. A coach escorted by two men on horseback emerged from the distant dust and entered the village, then reappeared a few minutes later on the road toward the monastery. The novices watched, transfixed, as the richly decorated coach stopped outside the gate and the two uniformed soldiers of the Laredan King opened the doors, whence emerged Sister Clare-of-Assisi, an unknown Sister, and the cardinal herself, Mother Iridia Silentia, O.D.D.
“Five for the guesthouse,” someone called out.
It was after the evening meal and almost time for Compline. Iridia Silentia appeared at the abbot’s office, but seemed reluctant at first to sit down. She seemed nervous but full of enthusiasm.
“Sister Clare is a vessel of the Holy Spirit, Domne. I am certain of it. The reason I am certain is that she cannot command this talent, and she will not pretend to heal when she can’t She is deeply sympathetic, and in some cases it might be helpful to pretend to be healing someone whose ailment is partly emotional. But she will not pretend.”
“Does she attribute it to God?”
“I think it would not be prudent to ask her that,” the cardinal said sharply, and Dom Abiquiu reddened. Iridia finally sat down. “If she said yes, she would become a problem for the Church. If she said no, she would become a problem for the Church. This is why we cannot accept such a treasure in our community. She has taken our vows, walked on our stones with her bare feet, prayed with us, eaten God’s Body with us, and we quickly came to love her. But she is a treasure, and she has to be released.”
“Did Brother St. George know about this talent?”
“She told me she had teased him. I think she meant she showed him her gift, in minor ways. You can see how we cannot have anyone special in our midst except the Lord.”
“So you have brought her to me.”
It was the cardinal’s turn to blush. “Because the Pope told me to ... No, not quite. The Pope told me to send her here if she wished to leave us. I decided she should go, and I helped her to wish it, and I brought her myself. If I sent her, I would not be able to tell you about her.”
“You could have written a letter.”
“I could not have written a letter, nor can you put anything at all about her in writing unless you want to destroy her. Don’t you see?”
Dom Abiquiu was briefly silent. “Like asking her if her gift is from God or not?”
The cardinal smiled warmly, causing the abbot’s heart to squirm.
“She needs to go home, if the Mayor’s son will let her. You need keep her here only until the Holy Father can arrange it.”
“You are aware that the Holy Father is otherwise occupied?”