Dooms Day Book

“We will send for no one,” Eliwys said.

“To…,” another place name the interpreter couldn’t manage. “Lady Yvolde has repute with injuries. And she would gladly lend us one of her waiting women for a nurse.”

“No,” Eliwys said. “We will tend her ourselves. Father Roche—”

“Father Roche,” she said contemptuously. “He knows naught of medicine.”

But I understood everything he said, Kivrin thought. She remembered his quiet voice chanting the last rites, his gentle touch on her temples, her palms, the soles of her feet. He had told her not to be afraid and asked her her name. And held her hand.

“If the lady is of noble birth,” the older woman said, “would you have it told you let an ignorant village priest tend her? Lady Yvolde—”

“We will send for no one,” Eliwys said, and for the first time Kivrin realized she was afraid. “My husband bade us keep here till he come.”

“He had sooner have come with us.”

“You know he could not,” Eliwys said. “He will come when he can. I must go to speak with Gawyn,” she said walking past the old woman to the door. “Gawyn told me he would search the place where first he found the lady to seek for signs of her attackers. Mayhap he has found somewhat that will tell us what she is.”

The place where first he found the lady. Gawyn was the man who had found her, the man with the red hair and the kind face who had helped her onto his horse and brought her here. That much at least she hadn’t dreamed, though she must have dreamed the white horse. He had brought her here, and he knew where the drop was.

“Wait,” Kivrin said. She pushed herself up against the pillows. “Wait. Please. I would speak with Gawyn.”

The women stopped. Eliwys came around beside the bed, looking alarmed.

“I would speak with the man called Gawyn,” Kivrin said carefully, waiting before each word until she had the translation. Eventually the process would be automatic, but for now she thought the word and then waited till the interpreter translated it and repeated it out loud. “I must discover this place where he found me.”

Eliwys laid her hand on Kivrin’s forehead, and Kivrin brushed it impatiently away.

“I would speak with Gawyn,” she said.

“She has no fever, Imeyne,” Eliwys said to the old woman, “and yet she tries to speak, though she knows we cannot understand her.”

“She speaks in a foreign tongue,” Imeyne said, making it sound criminal. “Mayhap she is a French spy.”

“I’m not speaking French,” Kivrin said. “I’m speaking Middle English.”

“Mayhap it is Latin,” Eliwys said. “Father Roche said she spoke in Latin when he shrove her.”

“Father Roche can scarce say his Paternoster,” Lady Imeyne said. “We should send to…” the unrecognizable name again. Kersey? Courcy?

“I would speak with Gawyn,” Kivrin said in Latin.

“Nay,” Eliwys said. “We will await my husband.”

The old woman wheeled angrily, slopping the contents of the chamberpot onto her hand. She wiped it off onto her skirt and went out the door, slamming it shut behind her. Eliwys started after her.

Kivrin grabbed at her hands. “Why don’t you understand me?” she said. “I understand you. I have to talk to Gawyn. He has to tell me where the drop is.”

Eliwys disengaged Kivrin’s hand. “There, you mustn’t cry,” she said kindly. “Try to sleep. You must rest, so you can go home.”

Transcript from the Doomsday Book

(000915-001284)

I’m in a lot of trouble, Mr. Dunworthy. I don’t know where I am, and I can’t speak the language. Something’s gone wrong with the interpreter. I can understand some of what the contemps say, but they can’t understand me at all. And that’s not the worst of it.

I’ve caught some sort of disease. I don’t know what it is. It’s not the plague because I don’t have any of the right symptoms and because I’m getting better. And I had a plague inoculation. I had all my inoculations and T-cell enhancement and everything, but one of them must not have worked or else this is some Middle Ages disease there aren’t any inoculations for.

The symptoms are headache and fever and dizziness, and I get a pain in my chest when I try to move. I was delirious for a while, which is why I don’t know where I am. A man named Gawyn brought me here on his horse, but I don’t remember very much about the trip except that it was dark and it seemed to take hours. I’m hoping I was wrong and the fever made it seem longer, and I’m in Ms. Montoya’s village after all.