Saint Leibowitz and the Wild Horse Woman

by Walter M Miller Jr

  Snow Ghost spoke no Ol’zark. Santalot spoke no Wilddog, although he had learned a little Jackrabbit while serving in the Province. Both of them knew a little Churchspeak. They had trouble communicating, but since they were enemies, this was just as well. Snow Ghost was already attending Mass and chanting the hours with the other monks in choir, although his habit was still being tailored for him. The abbot had warned him sternly against discussing politics with the Texark scholar, but the warning proved unnecessary. Snow Ghost seemed thoroughly afraid of the man.

  Thon Santalot, whose life seemed to be driven by curiosity, became curious at this time as to why the extra cell was being built when the guesthouse was nearly empty. Snow Ghost could tell him nothing; Brother Carpenter said it was for a special visitor, and that was all he knew.

  The expected trollop was never to occupy the extra cell, however. In late June, the old Jew who never died came out of the east and collapsed outside the gates. The abbot ordered him carried to the guesthouse, but when he began raving in Hebrew, Thon Santalot became frightened of him, and so Dom Abiquiu housed him in the whore-hut and fed him bread and boiled goat’s milk.

  Brother Medic was unable to diagnose the ancient hermit’s illness, which seemed to abate on the day following his arrival. He insisted on going back to his mesa, but on the fourth day, before he got under way, he went wild again and had to be restrained. When he recovered temporarily from his fever, he insisted to Olshuen that he was a danger to the community, and exacted a promise of sanitary measures. He said he had caught the disease while traveling behind the lines in the Province, where he had sold military weather to both sides. He insisted that to prevent spreading the contagion, the doors and windows of his cell were to be covered with cloth to exclude insects. Knowing that old Benjamin had medical experience, the abbot readily consented.

  When Elmofire Santalot heard of the nature of old Benjamin’s illness, and where he caught it, the scholar went straight to the abbot’s office. The abbot was out, so he gave the abbot’s secretary a bottle of pills, explaining that he had needed them to avoid catching Hilbert’s disease from the troops in the Province. The scholar was having a late breakfast in the refectory the following morning when Dom Abiquiu sat down beside him, placing the bottle of pills on the oak table.

  “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. Th
e 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?”

  Silentia ignored Olshuen’s irony. “I’ll tell Sister Clare that she must avoid talking to anyone outside the guesthouse.”

  “There is one of our postulants in the guesthouse.”

  “Then she must—”

  “But I’ll get him out. Who is the other Sister?”

  “My assistant. She will return with me to San Pancho.”

  Brother Liveryman appeared in the doorway, caught the abbot’s eye, and in response to the abbot’s nod asked: “Domne, did you tell our guests to choose their own rooms?”

  “Yes, of course. Is there a problem?”

  “Only that one of the nuns chose the, uh, isolation cell.”

  “You must get her out of there! It’s not safe yet.”

  “She said it was built for her. I don’t know what she meant.”

  The cardinal studied the abbot’s expression for a moment and said, “I think I know.” She arose. “Well, Domne. I am very tired and would like to retire. If I may be excused, I shall say Compline alone in my room. I’ll speak to my student. I do thank you for all.”

  Student? The word lingered in the abbot’s office behind her.

  That evening, Sister Clare abandoned the abbot’s whore-hut for a cell in the guesthouse with the others, saying that she knew it had been meant for her originally, but that she had been unaware of the quarantine. Singing Cow suppressed his curiosity about her and said nothing.

  Three nuns, two soldiers, a scholar from Texark, a Nomad who was a possible postulant, and Father Singing Cow now shared the guesthouse. Ædrea stayed in her cell except when they all went to the refectory or to Mass together. The cardinal, her assistant, and the Wilddog Nomad Snow Ghost were often absent from the building, presumably singing the Divine Office with the Brothers. Singing Cow was busy in the Scriptorium making a glossary from the work of Brother Blacktooth, and Thon Elmofier Santalot was usually busy searching the bookshelves in the basement, or reading and making notes in the clerestory. The Laredan soldiers were left alone most of the time, with Ædrea staying behind a closed door. One of the soldiers rode into Sanly Bowitts on the second day and brought back a jug of local hooch. When the soldiers were both solemnly drunk, the bolder of them knocked upon the pretty nun’s door and offered her a drink.

  Ædrea opened the door, took the proffered jug, tilted it, and swallowed mightily.

  “Thank you, Corporal Browka,” she said with a smile, then closed the door and clicked the latch.

  Browka knocked again, but there was no answer. “You saw her smile at me?”

  Father Moo and the Nomad youth returned from Church, and soon after, Santalot came in. The soldiers offered everyone a drink, but there was little left in the jug and no one accepted. The cardinal came in and sat down in the reading room for a moment before retiring. The soldiers hid the jug and pretended to be sleeping.

  “We shall leave here after Lauds in the morning,” said Mother Iridia. “We must all thank the monks for their hospitality.” She was speaking Churchspeak, which was the only common language among the monastery’s guests. The soldiers spoke it poorly, but as soldiers they were very curious about the military campaigns of the present Pope, and had many questions, asked and unasked. In two days at the abbey, they had learned very little.

  In the morning, after a last conference with the abbot, Mother Iridia bade her student a tearful goodbye and she and her servants departed. Ædrea cried in her cell for an hour after they were gone. She shared the guesthouse now with Singing Cow, Snow Ghost, and Elmofier Santalot the scholar. Abbot Olshuen told Snow Ghost he could now move to a cell in the dormitory, but Snow Ghost resisted, saying he was not yet quite ready for silence and solitude. Surprised, the abbot glanced quickly at Ædrea, as if he wondered whether the Nomad was not quite ready for chastity either, but he did not press it. Nomad vocations were rare, and except when Singing Cow was present, Brother Wren, the abbey’s cook, had no one to talk to in his own tongue or a related dialect.

  It was during the Feast of Saint Clare, one year after her taking her vows, from which she was now released, that Ædrea Sister Clare-of-Assisi performed a miracle in the guesthouse of Leibowitz Abbey.

  In late August Brother Wren got permission to visit Singing Cow in the guesthouse, and Ædrea Sister Clare-of-Assisi became aware that Brother Cook had a cancer eating his throat. His voice had diminished to a hoarse whisper. He called his cancer Brother Crab, and joked about it. Ædrea came up behind him as he sat and talked with his old friend, Moo. He started up as she touched him, but then settled back in his chair with a smile and let her hands explore his throat. He started again when she pressed down hard with her fingertips below his Adam’s apple.

  “Relax, Brother. Does it hurt?”

  “Not much,” Wren whispered. “What have you done? Something popped.”

  She continued caressing his throat for a while, then left him and went to her cell. Father Moo crossed himself. Brother Wren noticed and followed suit.

  “Better not tell anyone,” Singing Cow said.

  Within three days, Wren began to get his voice back. Word got around. Within a week, Sister Clare had healed infected blisters, a hernia, an abscessed tooth, and a probable case of gonorrhea of the eye. All this might have passed unnoticed, but when she cured the old librarian, Brother Obohl, of his myopia and he got a look at the beautiful woman who had laid hands on his eyes, his squawk of astonishment was followed by the joyful noise of his thanksgiving, and this fell upon the ears of Dom Abiquiu.

  Singing Cow was present in the guesthouse when the abbot strode to the closed door of Ædrea’s cell.

  “I told you not to mix with the monks.”

  “I have not mixed with the monks.”

  “Cardinal Silentia forbade you to practice your healing tricks.”

  Sister Clare opened her door. “Beg pardon, Domne, but she did not. I do not have any healing tricks.”

  “You argue with me! Where is your religious training?”

  “You prefer Brother Librarian half blind?”

  “It was my fault, Domne,” put in Father Moo. He ventured a lie: �
�I sent him to her.”

  “What?” Olshuen gasped and paused for self-control. “You are not to lay hands on anyone else while you are here. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Domne.”

  “Will you obey?”

  “Yes, Domne.”

  The abbot glared at Singing Cow. “I think it is about time you returned home.”

  “Thank you, Domne.” As soon as Dom Abiquiu was gone, he said, “Alleluia!”

  Sister Clare smiled. “Will you carry a message to my family and the Mayor when you go?” she asked.

  But Singing Cow had not yet departed when her wounds began to appear. When Ædrea went to Mass, she knelt in the back of the Church behind a pillar where she was not visible to the monks in the choir. Thus she always left the Church first. Following her back to the guesthouse, Singing Cow noticed dark spots in the prints of her bare feet in the sand. When she walked across the guesthouse floor, the blood was even more apparent. He called out to her, asking how she had hurt her feet.

  The young nun stopped, pulled up the skirt of her habit, and looked down. She stared, then looked back at Father Moo. When she lifted her hand to her face, he saw that the palm was bloody. She seemed very confused.

  “Who hurt you, Sister?”

  Her voice trembled. “I don’t know. It was dark. I think it was the Devil. He was wearing a robe like yours.”

  “What? Someone actually attacked you?”

  “It’s like a dream. There was a hammer—” She stopped, looked at him wildly, then bolted into her cell and latched the door. Singing Cow could hear her praying. He went to look for Dom Abiquiu, whom he found praying before the wooden Leibowitz in the corridor.

  “She said it was like a dream,” Father Moo told him. “But she thinks somebody with a hammer, maybe the Devil—”