I am sorry for you both that she blamed herself, Gabriella said. In truth, I feel more fortunate than the mothers from whom the plague has stolen children. At least Isaac and I had the opportunity to bury our Ester and mourn for her in the proper Jewish tradition. I cannot imagine having to dispatch the most precious being in my life to the sea or worse.

Perhaps we both revealed more than we had intended, but we fell into a shy silence after this conversation and Gabriella departed earlier than on previous days.

Gabriella returned again this morning, but soon after she arrived, I received two other visitors. I could tell by the heavy knock on my door they were of the less welcome variety. The same two priests who had come for me before stood warily outside the open door, covering their mouths with their sleeves, as they announced that His Grace requested my presence.

Gabriella protested that I was far too weak to travel.

The taller priest looked at her as if he had just inhaled a foul odor. Is this woman a Jew? he asked me.

I told them that Gabriella was the daughter of a colleague who brought me daily supplies. I tried to silence her with my stare, but she would not abide.

He is in no condition to leave his home, she insisted.

The second priest turned to her with a fiery glare. We do not answer to any woman, he said, let alone a Jew.

I pretended to be overcome with a fit of hacking. The priests jumped back as if they had been startled by thunder. I panted as though struggling to catch my breath. This plague, I said. I do not have the lungs or strength to walk to the Archbishop’s palace. Perhaps in another week or so.

We have a horse for you, the taller priest said.

I argued that I was not fit for an audience with the Archbishop, as I had not shaved or changed in almost two weeks. But they were deaf to all my excuses.

The priests rode together on the lead horse while I trotted ten paces back, as per their instructions, on the second animal. At the palace, I was led to the Archbishop’s chamber and made to wait outside the door while the priests entered. After a delay, they emerged from the chamber and the taller one commanded me to go inside.

The Archbishop was seated in the same raised chair as before while a fire raged even more intensely at his back. He clutched a handkerchief across his mouth and nose. No farther! he cried the moment I crossed the threshold.

I stopped and bowed to him from across the room.

So you have been afflicted after all, Doctor Pasqua, he said through the cloth.

Yes, Your Grace.

And yet here you are. It seems my prayers for you have been answered, unlike those for so many other of my parishioners.