“I know. I heard about it this morning. Why aren’t you out of town?”

“I waited for you.”

“You shouldn’t have—it’s not safe in London. Where’s the baby?”

“I sent her and Nan and Tansy into the country. We can go too—and meet them—” She looked at him questioningly, afraid he might tell her that he already had other plans.

Bruce took her arm and they started back toward the coach. As they went he began talking in an undertone. “You’ve got to get away from here, Amber. You shouldn’t have come down at all. Ships carry disease, you know.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that. I’ve got a unicorn’s horn.”

He laughed, but without much humour. “Unicorn’s horn—my God! A cuckold’s horn would do you as much good.”

They reached the coach and he handed her in. Then he braced one foot on the step, rested his arms on his knees and as he leaned forward to talk to her his voice was no more than a murmur. “You’ve got to get away from here as fast as you can. Some of my men are sick of the plague.”

Amber gasped in horror, but he made her a quick negative motion with his head. “But Bruce!” she whispered. “You might catch it too!”

“There’ve only been three cases. There was sickness on some of the Dutch ships we took and when we found it we sank them with everyone on board—but three of my own sailors have fallen sick since. They were moved off the ships last night and there haven’t been any new cases so far today.”

“Oh, Bruce! You can’t stay here! You’ve got to come away—Oh, darling, I’m scared! Have you got an amulet or something to protect yourself?”

He gave her a look of exasperated impatience, and ignored the last question. “I can’t leave now—I can’t leave until everything’s been unloaded and stored. But you’ve got to go. Please, Amber, listen to me. I’ve heard a rumour they’re going to lock the gates and forbid anyone’s leaving. Get out while there’s still time.”

She looked at him stubbornly. “I won’t go without you.”

“Holy Jesus, Amber, don’t be a fool! I’ll meet you somewhere later.”

“I’m not afraid of the plague—I never get sick. When will you be through unloading?”

“Not before night.”

“Then I’ll come back here for you at sundown. Nan and the baby are at Dunstable and we can meet them there. I’m not living at Dangerfield House any more—I’ve got lodgings in St. Martin’s Lane.”

“Then go there and stay. Keep off the streets and don’t talk to anyone.”

He turned away and then, as she watched anxiously, her face wistful as a child’s, he looked around and gave her a smile and a slow weary wave of his hand. He walked off down the wharf and disappeared into the crowds.

But she did not stay at home as he had told her to do.

She knew that he was skeptical about a great many things in which she believed, and a unicorn’s horn was one of them. Wearing it pinned inside her smock she felt perfectly safe as she went out to make arrangements for their supper, for she thought that tomorrow morning would be early enough to leave. She ordered their supper at the Blue Bells, a very fine French tavern in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and then went back to set the table herself. All her silver had been stored with Shadrac Newbold but there was pewter enough in the kitchen to make a handsome show and she amused herself for most of an hour experimentally folding the napkins to resemble weird birds. In the courtyard she gathered a great armful of limp yellow roses that climbed over the walls and onto the balconies, and arranged them in a large pewter bowl for the dining-room table.

She took delight in each small detail, each unimportant little thing which she did, with the hope that later it would make him comfortable or cause him to smile. The plague began to seem almost a blessing to her now, for it meant that they would be together for several weeks, perhaps months—perhaps, forever. She thought that she had never been so happy, or had so much cause for happiness.

The last hour before she set out she spent brushing and arranging her hair, polishing her nails, and painting her face-very subtly, for she did not want him to look at her with the smile she knew so well, which always made her feel that she was both foolish and wrong. She was standing at the window fastening a bracelet when she saw a funeral procession turn the corner. There were banners floating, horses and men tramped solemnly, and though it was still light several torches burned. She turned quickly away—resenting the intrusion of death into her happiness—threw on her cloak and went downstairs.

The wharf was half deserted now and as she rode out along it the wheels of her coach rumbled noisily. He was talking to two other men, and though he gave her a nod he did not smile and she saw that he looked even more tired than before. After a few minutes all three returned to one of the ships and disappeared from sight.

By the time a quarter of an hour had gone by she was beginning to grow impatient. Now, just what can be keeping him all this time! Here he hasn’t seen me for ten months and what does he do? Goes back to his damned boat for a drink, I suppose! She began to tap her foot and flutter her fan. From time to time she sighed and scowled, and then she smoothed her features again and tried to compose herself. The sun had set, dark red over the water, and now there was a slight breeze which seemed refreshing after the hot day just passed.

It was at least another half-hour before he came back and by then her eager anticipation had turned to angry pique. He got in and sat down heavily. She gave him a sideways glance and said tartly:

“Well, Lord Carlton! Have you come at last! Pray don’t let me keep you from something important!”

The coach began to move again. “I’m sorry, Amber—I’ve been so damned busy I—”

She was instantly contrite and ashamed of her meanness, for she could see that his eyes were bloodshot and even though the air was cool now, little drops of sweat stood on his forehead. She had never seen him look so tired, and her hand reached over to his. “I’m sorry, darling. I know you didn’t keep me waiting on purpose. But why did you have to work so hard and so long? Sure now, those men aren’t such fools they can’t unload a ship by themselves.”

He smiled, stroking her fingers. “They could have unloaded it alone, and would have been only too glad to. But these prizes are the King’s, and God knows he needs them. The sailors haven’t been paid and the men are refusing to work any more for tickets that can’t be cashed—Contractors won’t supply commodities they know they won’t be paid for. God, you don’t have to be here three hours to hear a tale of woe that would make a lawyer weep. And I might as well tell you—the three men who were sick yesterday are dead, and four more got it today.”

She stared at him. “What did you do with them?”

“Sent them to a pest-house. Someone told me that the gates are guarded now and that no one can leave without a certificate-of-health. Is that true?”

“Yes, but don’t trouble yourself about it. I got a certificate for you when I got mine and Nan’s and all the others. Even Susanna had to have one. And what a bother it was! The streets were packed for a half-mile around the Lord Mayor’s house. I think everyone in town is leaving.”

“If they issue them for people they’ve never seen they can’t be worth much.”

Amber held out her hand, rubbing her thumb and first two fingers suggestively together. “For enough money they’d give a dead man a certificate-of-health. I offered them fifty pound for the lot and they didn’t ask a question.” She paused. “I’m mighty rich now, you know.”

He sat slumped low, as though every muscle was tired, but he gave her a faint smile. “So you are. And is it as pleasant as you’d expected?”

“Oh, much more! Lord, everyone wants to marry me now! Buckhurst and Talbot and I can’t think how many others. What a pleasure it was to laugh in their faces!” She laughed now, thinking of it, and there was a malicious sparkle in her eyes. “Oh, gad, but it’s a fine thing to be rich!”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I suppose it is.”

Both of them were silent for a few minutes and then he said, “I wonder how long this plague will last.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’d hoped to be back at sea in another month—but the men won’t sign now. And anyway it would be foolish—they’ve found some Dutch ships with everyone aboard dead.”

Amber did not reply, but she felt that if there must be a plague at all it could not have happened more to her advantage.

When they reached her lodging-house she ran on up the stairs ahead of him, full of a trembling eager excitement. Sometimes she felt that moments like this one were almost compensation enough for the long periods of time when she did not see him at all. Such wild frantic happiness, ecstasy that was almost torture, pleasures that racked and exhausted—these things could be no everyday occurrence, no matter how truly you loved. They fed on loneliness and longing, and came to full blossom over slow months of separation.

She unlocked the door and flung it open, then turned about quickly to face him.

But he was still only halfway up the staircase, mounting it with slow heavy steps that were strangely and almost frighteningly unlike him. As he reached the top he paused for just an instant, one hand lifting as if to touch her, but he did not and walked on, into the parlour. A cold wet chill went over her and for a moment Amber stood, sick with disappointment, staring at the wall. She turned slowly then and saw him drop wearily into a chair, and at that moment her selfish feeling of jilted expectation was gone in a shock of horror.