Willis, Connie - Doomsday Book (v2.1)

by Doomsday Book (lit)

  "Tell your husband we are grateful for the loan of your horses, that ours may be rested for the journey to Berncestre," he said, and he sounded distracted, too. "I will send them from Courcy with a servant."

  "Would you see my hound?" Agnes said, tugging on her mother's skirt.

  "Hush," Eliwys said.

  "My clerk does not ride with us this afternoon," he said. "I fear he made too merry yestereve and feels now the pains of too much drink. I beg you indulgence, good lady, that he may stay and follow when he is recovered."

  "Of course he may stay," Eliwys said. "Is there aught we can do to help him? My husband's mother -- "

  "Nay. Leave him be. There is naught can help an aching head save sleep. He will be well by evening," he said, looking like he had made too merry himself. He seemed nervous, inattentive, as if he had a splitting head himself, and his aristocratic face was gray in the bright morning light. He shivered and pulled his cloak around him.

  He hadn't so much as glanced at Kivrin, and she wondered if he had forgotten his promise to Lady Imeyne in his haste. She looked anxiously toward the gate, hoping Imeyne was still chastising Roche and wouldn't suddenly appear to remind him of it.

  "I regret that my husband is not here," Eliwys said, "and that we could not give you better welcome. My husband -- "

  "I must see to my servants," he interrupted. He held out his hand and Eliwys dropped to one knee and kissed his ring. Before she could rise, he had stridden off towards the stable. Eliwys looked after him worriedly.

  "Do you want to see him?" Agnes said.

  "Not now," Eliwys said. "Rosemund, you must make your farewells to Sir Bloet and Lady Yvolde."

  "He is cold," Agnes said.

  Eliwys turned to Kivrin. "Lady Katherine, know you where Lady Imeyne is?"

  "She stayed behind in the church," Rosemund said.

  "Perhaps she is still at her prayers," Eliwys said. She stood on tiptoe and scanned the crowded courtyard. "Where is Maisry?"

  Hiding, Kivrin thought, which is what I should be doing.

  "Would you have me seek for her?" Rosemund asked.

  "Nay," Eliwys said. "You must bid Sir Bloet farewell. Lady Katherine, go and fetch Lady Imeyne from the church that she may bid the bishop's envoy goodbye. Rosemund, why do you still stand there? You must bid your betrothed farewell."

  "I will find Lady Imeyne," Kivrin said, thinking, I'll go out through the passage, and if she's still in the church, I'll duck behind the huts and go into the woods.

  She turned to go. Two of Sir Bloet's servants were struggling with a heavy chest. They set it down with a thunk in front of her, and it tipped over onto its side. She backed up and started around them, trying to keep from walking behind the horses.

  "Wait!" Rosemund said, catching up with her. She caught hold of her sleeve. "You must come with me to bid Sir Bloet farewell."

  "Rosemund -- " Kivrin said, looking toward the passage. Any second Lady Imeyne would come through there, clutching her book of hours.

  "Please," Rosemund said. She looked pale and frightened.

  "Rosemund -- "

  "It will but take a moment and then you can fetch Grandmother." She pulled Kivrin over to the stable. "Come. Now, while his sister-in-law is with him."

  Sir Bloet was standing watching his horse being saddled and talking to the lady with the amazing coif. It was no less enormous this morning, but had obviously been put on hastily. It listed sharply to one side.

  "What is this urgent business of the bishop's envoy?" she was saying.

  He shook his head, frowning, and then smiled at Rosemund and stepped forward. She stepped back, holding tightly to Kivrin's arm.

  His sister-in-law bobbed her wimple at Rosemund and went on, "Has he had news from Bath?"

  "There has been no messenger last night or this morning," he said.

  "If there has been no message, why spoke he not of this urgent business when first he came?"

  "I know not," he said impatiently. "Hold. I must bid my betrothed farewell." He reached for Rosemund's hand, and Kivrin could see the effort it took her not to pull it back.

  "Farewell, Sir Bloet," she said stiffly.

  "Is that how you would part from your husband?" he asked. "Will you not give him a farewell kiss?"

  Rosemund stepped forward and kissed him rapidly on the cheek, then stepped immediately back and out of his reach. "I thank you for your gift of the brooch," she said.

  Bloet dropped his gaze from her white face to the neck of her cloak. "'You are here in place of the friend I love,'" he said, fingering it.

  Agnes ran up, shouting, "Sir Bloet! Sir Bloet!" and he caught her and swung her up into his arms.

  "I have come to bid you goodbye," she said. "My hound died."

  "I will bring you a hound for a wedding gift," he said, "if you will give me a kiss."

  Agnes flung her arms around his neck and planted a noisy kiss on each red cheek.

  "You are not so chary of you kisses as your sister," he said, looking at Rosemund. He set Agnes down. "Or will you give your husband two kisses as well?"

  Rosemund didn't say anything.

  He stepped forward and fingered the brooch. "'Io suiicien lui dami amo,'" he said. He put his hands on her shoulders. "You must think of me whenever you wear my brooch." He leaned forward and kissed her throat.

  Rosemund didn't flinch away from him, but the color drained out of her face.

  He released her. "I will come for you at Eastertide," he said, and it sounded like a threat.

  "Will you bring me a black hound?" Agnes said.

  Lady Yvolde came up to them, demanding, "What have your servants done with my travelling cloak?"

  "I will fetch it," Rosemund said and darted off toward the house with Kivrin still in tow.

  As soon as they were safely away from Sir Bloet, Kivrin said, "I must find Lady Imeyne. Look, they are nearly ready to leave."

  It was true. The jumble of servants and boxes and horses had resolved itself into a procession, and Cob had opened the gate. The horses the three kings had ridden in on the night before were loaded with their chests and bags, their reins tied together. Sir Bloet's sister-in-law and her daughters were already mounted and the bishop's envoy was standing beside Eliwys's mare, tightening the cinch on the saddle.

  Only a few more minutes, Kivrin thought, let her stay in the church a few more minutes, and they'll be gone.

  "Your mother bade me find Lady Imeyne," Kivrin said.

  "You must come with me into the house first," Rosemund said. Her hand on Kivrin's arm was still trembling.

  "Rosemund, there isn't any time -- "

  "Please," she said. "What if he comes into the house and finds me?"

  Kivrin thought of Sir Bloet kissing her on the throat. "I will come with you," she said, "but we must hurry."

  They ran across the courtyard, through the door, and nearly into the fat monk. He was coming down the steps from the bower, and looked angry or hungover. He went out through the screens without a glance at either of them.

  There was no one else in the house. The table was still covered with cups and platters of meat, and the fire was burning smokily, untended.

  "Lady Yvolde's cloak is in the loft," Rosemund said. "Wait for me." She scrambled up the ladder as though Sir Bloet were after her.

  Kivrin went back to the screens and looked out. She couldn't see the passageway. The bishop's envoy was standing over by Eliwys's mare with one hand on the pommel of its saddle, listening to the monk, who was leaning close as he spoke. Kivrin glanced up the stairs at the shut door of the bower, wondering if the clerk was truly hungover or had had some sort of falling out with his superior. The monk's gestures were obviously upset.

  "Here it is," Rosemund said, climbing down, clutching the cloak in one hand and the ladder in the other.

  "I would have you take it to Lady Yvolde. It will take but a minute."

  It was the chance she'd been waiting for. "I will," she said, took the heavy cloak
from Rosemund and started out. As soon as she was outside, she would give the cloak to the nearest servant to deliver to Bloet's sister and head straight for the passageway. Let her stay in the church a few more minutes, she prayed. Let me make it to the green. She stepped out of the door, into Lady Imeyne.

  "Why are you not ready to leave?" Imeyne said, looking at the cloak in her arms. "Where is your cloak?"

  Kivrin shot a glance at the bishop's envoy. He had both hands on the pommel and was stepping onto Cob's linked hands. The friar was already mounted.

  "My cloak is in the church," Kivrin said. "I will fetch it."

  "There is no time. They are departing."

  Kivrin looked desperately around the courtyard, but they were all out of reach: Eliwys standing with Gawyn by the stable, Agnes talking animatedly to one of Sir Bloet's nieces, Rosemund nowhere to be seen, presumably still in the house, hiding.

  "Lady Yvolde bade asked me to bring her her cloak," Kivrin said.

  "Maisry can take it to her," Imeyne said. "Maisry!"

  Let her still be hiding, Kivrin prayed.

  "Maisry!" Imeyne shouted, and Maisry came slinking out from the brewhouse door, holding her ear. Lady Imeyne snatched the cloak out of Kivrin's arms and dumped it on Maisry's. "Stop snivelling and take this to Lady Yvolde," she snapped.

  She grabbed Kivrin by the wrist. "Come," she said, and started toward the bishop's envoy. "Holy Father, you have forgotten Lady Katherine, whom you promised to take with you to Godstow."

  "We do not go to Godstow," he said and swung himself into the saddle with an effort. "We journey to Bernecestre."

  Gawyn had mounted Gringolet and was walking him toward the gate. He's going with them, she thought. Perhaps on the way to Courcy I can persuade him to take me to the drop. Perhaps I can persuade him to tell me where it is, and I can get away from them and find it myself .

  "Can she not ride with you to Berncestre then, and a monk escort her to Godstow? I would have her returned to her nunnery."

  "There is no time," he said, picking up the reins.

  Imeyne grabbed hold of his scarlet cope. "Why do you leave so suddenly? Has aught offended you?"

  He glanced at the friar, who was holding the reins of Kivrin's mare. "Nay." He made a vague sign of the cross over Imeyne. "Dominus vobiscum, et cum spiritu tuo," he murmured, looking pointedly at her hand on his cope.

  "What of a new chaplain?" Imeyne insisted.

  "I am leaving my clerk behind to serve you as chaplain," he said.

  He's lying, Kivrin thought, and glanced up sharply at him. He exchanged another, secretive glance with the monk, and Kivrin wondered if their urgent business was simply getting away from this complaining old woman.

  "Your clerk?" Lady Imeyne said, pleased, and let go of the cope.

  The bishop's envoy spurred his horse, and galloped across the courtyard, nearly running down Agnes, who scurried out of the way and then ran to Kivrin and buried her head in her skirt. The monk mounted Kivrin's mare and rode after him.

  "God go with you, Holy Father," Lady Imeyne called after him, but he was already out the gate.

  And then they were all gone, Gawyn riding out last at a flashy gallop to make Eliwys notice him, and they hadn't taken her off to Godstow and out of reach of the drop. Kivrin was so relieved she didn't even worry over Gawyn's having gone with them. It was only a half-day's ride to Courcy. He might even be back by nightfall.

  Everyone seemed relieved, or perhaps it was only the letdown of Christmas afternoon and the fact that they had all been up since yesterday morning. No one made any movement to clear the tables, which were still covered with dirty trenchers and half- full serving bowls. Eliwys sank into the high seat, her arms dangling over the side, and looked at the table disinterestedly. After a few minutes she called for Maisry, but when she didn't answer, Eliwys didn't shout for her again. She leaned her head against the carved back and closed her eyes.

  Rosemund went up to the loft to lie down, and Agnes sat down next to Kivrin by the hearth and put her head on her lap, playing absently with her bell.

  Only Lady Imeyne refused to give in to the letdown and languor of the afternoon. "I would have my new chaplain say vespers," she said, and went up to knock on the bower door.

  Eliwys protested lazily, her eyes still closed, that the bishop's envoy had said the clerk should not be disturbed, but Imeyne knocked several times, loudly and without result. She waited a few minutes, knocked again, and then came down the steps and knelt at the foot of them to read her Book of Hours and keep an eye on the door so she could waylay the clerk as soon as he emerged.

  Agnes batted at her bell with one finger, yawning broadly.

  "Why don't you go up into the loft and lie down with your sister?" Kivrin suggested.

  "I'm not tired," Agnes said, sitting up. "Tell me what happened to the naughty girl."

  "Only if you lie down," Kivrin said, and began the story. Agnes didn't last two sentences.

  In the late afternoon, Kivrin remembered Agnes's puppy. Everyone was asleep by then, even Lady Imeyne, who had given up on the clerk and gone up to the loft to lie down. Maisry had come in at some point and crawled under one of the tables. She was snoring loudly.

  Kivrin eased her knees carefully out from under Agnes's head and went out to bury the puppy. There was no one in the courtyard. The remains of a bonfire still smouldered in the center of the green, but there was no one around it. The villagers must be taking a Christmas afternoon nap, too.

  Kivrin brought down Blackie's body and went into the stable for a wooden spade. Only Agnes's pony was there, and Kivrin frowned at it, wondering how the clerk was supposed to follow the envoy to Courcy. Perhaps he hadn't been lying, after all, and the clerk was to be the new chaplain whether he liked it or not.

  Kivrin carried the spade and Blackie's already stiffening body across to the church and around to the north side. She laid the puppy down and began chipping through the crusted snow.

  The ground was literally as hard as stone. The wooden spade didn't even make a dent, even when she stood on it with both feet. She climbed the hill to the beginnings of the wood, dug through the snow at the base of an ash tree, and buried the puppy in the loose leaf-mould.

  "Requiscat in pace," she said so she could tell Agnes the puppy had had a Christian burial and went back down the hill.

  She wished Gawyn would ride up now. She could ask him to take her to the drop while everyone was still asleep. She walked slowly across the green, listening for the horse. He would probably come by the main road. She propped the spade against the wattle fence of the pigsty and went around the outside of the manor wall to the gate, but she couldn't hear anything.

  The afternoon light began to fade. If Gawyn didn't come soon, it would be too dark to ride out to the drop. Father Roche would be ringing vespers in another half hour, and that would wake everyone up. Gawyn would have to tend his horse, though, no matter what time he got back, and she could sneak out to the stable and ask him to take her to the drop in the morning.

  Or perhaps he could simply tell her where it was, draw her a map so she could find it herself. That way she wouldn't have to go into the woods alone with him, and if Lady Imeyne had him out on another errand the day of the rendezvous, she could take one of the horses and find it herself.

  She stood in by the gate till she got cold and then went back along the wall to the pigsty and into the courtyard. There was still no one in the courtyard, but Rosemund was in the anteroom, with her cloak on.

  "Where have you been?" she said. "I've been looking everywhere for you. The clerk -- "

  Kivrin's heart jerked. "What is it? Is he leaving?" He'd woken from his hangover and was ready to leave. And Lady Imeyne had persuaded him to take her to Godstow.

  "Nay," Rosemund said, going into the hall. It was empty. Eliwys and Imeyne must both be in the bower with him. She unfastened Sir Bloet's brooch and took her cloak off. "He is ailing. Father Roche sent me to find you." She started up the stairs.<
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  "Ailing?" Kivrin said.

  "Aye. Grandmother sent Maisry to the bower to take him somewhat to eat."

  And to put him to work, Kivrin thought, following her up the steps. "And Maisry found him ill?"

  "Aye. He has a fever."

  He has a hangover, Kivrin thought, frowning. But Roche would surely recognize the effects of drink, even if Lady Imeyne couldn't, or wouldn't.

  A terrible thought occurred to her. He's been sleeping in my bed, Kivrin thought, and he's caught my virus.

  "What symptoms does he have?" she asked.

  Rosemund opened the door.

  There was scarcely room for them all in the little room. Father Roche was by the bed, and Eliwys stood a little behind him, her hand on Agnes's head. Maisry cowered by the window. Lady Imeyne knelt at the foot of the bed next to her medicine casket, busy with one of her foul-smelling poultices, and there was another smell in the room, sickish and so strong it overpowered the mustard and leek smell of the poultice.

  They all, except Agnes, looked frightened. Agnes looked interested, the way she had with Blackie, and Kivrin thought, he's dead, he's caught what I had, and he's died. But that was ridiculous. She had been here since the middle of December. That would mean an incubation period of nearly two weeks, and no one else had caught it, not even Father Roche, or Eliwys, and they had been with her constantly while she was ill.

  She looked at the clerk. He lay uncovered in the bed, wearing a shift and no breeches. The rest of his clothes were draped over the foot of the bed, his purple cloak dragging on the floor. His shift was yellow silk, and the ties had come unfastened so that it was open halfway down his chest, but she wasn't noticing either his hairless skin or the ermine bands on the sleeves of his shift. He was ill. I was never that ill, Kivrin thought, not even when I was dying.

  She went up to the bed. Her foot hit a half-empty earthenware wine bottle and sent it rolling under the bed. The clerk flinched. Another bottle, with the seal still on it, stood at the head of the bed.

  "He has eaten too much rich food," Lady Imeyne said, mashing something in her stone bowl, but it was clearly not food poisoning. Nor too much alcohol, in spite of the wine bottles. He's ill, Kivrin thought. Terribly ill.