Dooms Day Book

“It will penaunce,” Agnes wailed, pushing her mother’s hand away from her knee. “It will pain,” the interpreter whispered, and Kivrin felt relieved that it had managed to come up with something, even though “to pain” was scarcely a verb.

“How came you to fall?” Eliwys asked to distract Agnes.

“She was running up the stairs,” Rosemund said. “She was running to give you the news that… had come.”

The interpreter left a space again, but Kivrin caught the word this time. Gawyn, which was probably a proper name, and the interpreter had apparently reached the same conclusion because by the time Agnes had shrieked, “I would have told Mother Gawyn had come,” the interpreter included it in the translation.

“I would have told,” Agnes said, really crying now, and buried her face against her mother, who promptly took advantage of the opportunity to tie the bandage around Agnes’s knee.

“You can tell me now,” she said.

Agnes shook her buried head.

“You tie the bandage too loosely, daughter-in-law,” the older woman said. “It will but fall away.”

The bandage looked tight enough to Kivrin, and obviously any attempt to bind the wound tighter would result in renewed screams. The old woman was still holding the chamberpot in both hands. Kivrin wondered why she didn’t go empty it.

“Shh, shh,” Eliwys said, rocking the little girl gently and patting her back. “I would fain have you tell me.”

“Pride goes before a fall,” the old woman said, seemingly determined to make Agnes cry again. “You were to blame that you fell. You should not have run in the hall.”

“Was Gawyn riding a white mare?” Eliwys asked.

A white mare. Kivrin wondered if Gawyn could be the man who had helped her onto his horse and brought her to the manor.

“Nay,” Agnes said in a tone that indicated her mother had made some sort of joke. “He was riding his own black stallion Gringolet. And he rode up to me and said, ‘Good Lady Agnes, I would speak with thy mother.’”

“Rosemund, your sister was hurt because of your carelessness,” the old woman said. She hadn’t succeeded in upsetting Agnes, so she’d decided to go after some other victim. “Why were you not tending her?”

“I was at my broidery,” Rosemund said, looking to her mother for support. “Maisry was to keep watch over her.”

“Maisry went out to see Gawyn,” Agnes said, sitting up on her mother’s lap.

“And dally with the stableboy,” the old woman said. She went to the door and shouted, “Maisry!”

Maisry. That was the name the old woman had called out before, and now the interpreter wasn’t even leaving spaces when it came to proper names. Kivrin didn’t know who Maisry was, probably a servant, but if the way things were going was any indication, Maisry was going to be in a lot of trouble. The old woman was determined to find a victim, and the missing Maisry seemed perfect.

“Maisry!” she shouted again, and the name echoed.

Rosemund took the opportunity to go and stand beside her mother. “Gawyn bade us tell you he begged leave to come and speak with you.”

“Waits he below?” Eliwys asked.

“Nay. He went first to the church to speak of the lady with Father Rock.”

Pride goes before a fall. The interpreter was obviously getting overconfident. Father Rolfe, perhaps, or Father Peter. Obviously not Father Rock.

“Why went he to speak to Father Rock?” the old woman demanded, coming back into the room.

Kivrin tried to hear the real word under the maddening whisper of the translation. Roche. The French word for “rock.” Father Roche.

“Mayhap he has found somewhat of the lady,” Eliwys said, glancing at Kivrin. It was the first indication she, or anyone, had given that they remembered Kivrin was in the room. Kivrin quickly closed her eyes to make them think she was asleep so they would go on discussing her.

“Gawyn rode out this morning to seek the ruffians,” Eliwys said. Kivrin opened her eyes to slits, but she was no longer looking at her. “Mayhap he has found them.” She bent and tied the dangling strings of Agnes’s linen cap. “Agnes, go to the church with Rosemund and tell Gawyn we would speak with him in the hall. The lady sleeps. We must not disturb her.”

Agnes darted for the door, shouting, “I

would be the one to tell him, Rosemund.”

“Rosemund, let your sister tell,” Eliwys called after them. “Agnes, do not run.”

The girls disappeared out the door and down the invisible stairs, obviously running.

“Rosemund is near-grown,” the old woman said. “It is not seemly for her to run after your husband’s men. Ill will come of your daughters being untended. You would do wisely to send to Oxenford for a nurse.”

“No,” Eliwys said with a firmness Kivrin wouldn’t have guessed at. “Maisry can keep watch over them.”

“Maisry is not fit to watch sheep. We should not have come from Bath in such haste. Surely we could have waited till…” something.

The interpreter left a gap again, and Kivrin didn’t recognize the phrase, but she had caught the important facts. They had come from Bath. They were near Oxford.

“Let Gawyn fetch a nurse. And a leech-woman to see to the lady.”