Connie Willis - Doomsday Book

Rosemund was sitting on one of the benches by the hearth, and Lady Imeyne was standing over her.

"What's happened?" Kivrin demanded.

"I fell," Rosemund said, sounding bewildered. "I hit my arm." She held it out to Kivrin, the elbow crooked.

Lady Imeyne murmured something.

"What?" Kivrin said, and realized the old lady was praying. She looked around the hall for Eliwys. She wasn't there. Only Maisry huddled frightenedly by the table, and the thought flickered through Kivrin's mind that Rosemund must have tripped over her.

"Did you fall over something?" she asked.

"Nay," Rosemund said, still sounding dazed. "My head hurts."

"Did you hit your head?"

"Nay." She pulled her sleeve back. "I hit my elbow on the stones."

Kivrin pushed the loose sleeve up past her elbow. It was scraped, but there was no blood. Kivrin wondered if she could have broken it. She was holding it at such an odd angle. "Does this hurt?" she asked, moving it gently.

"Nay."

She twisted the forearm gently. "Does this?"

"Nay."

"Can you move your fingers?" Kivrin said.

Rosemund dangled them each in turn, her arm still crooked. Kivrin frowned at it, puzzled. It might be sprained, but she didn't think she'd be able to move it so easily. "Lady Imeyne," she said, "would you fetch Father Roche?"

"He cannot help us," Imeyne said contemptuously, but she started for the stairs.

"I don't think it's broken," Kivrin said to Rosemund.

Rosemund lowered her arm, gasped, and jerked it up again. The color drained from her face, and beads of sweat broke out on her upper lip.

It must be broken, Kivrin thought, and reached for the arm again. Rosemund pulled away, and before Kivrin even realized what was happening, toppled off the bench and onto the floor.

She had hit her head this time. Kivrin heard it thunk against the stone. She scrambled over the bench and knelt beside her. "Rosemund, Rosemund," she said. "Can you hear me?"

She didn't move. She had flung her injured arm out when she fell, as if to catch herself, and when Kivrin touched it, she flinched, but she didn't open her eyes. Kivrin looked round wildly for Imeyne, but the old woman was not on the stairs. She got to her knees.

Rosemund opened her eyes. "Do not leave me," she said.

"I must fetch help," she said.

Rosemund shook her head.

"Father Roche!" Kivrin called, though she knew he could not hear her through the heavy door, and Lady Eliwys came through the screens and ran across the flagged floor.

"Has she the blue sickness?" she said.

No. "She fell," Kivrin said. She laid her hand on Rosemund's bare, outflung arm. It felt hot. Rosemund had closed her eyes again and was breathing slowly, evenly, as if she had fallen asleep.

Kivrin pushed the heavy sleeve up and over Rosemund's shoulder. She turned her arm up so she could see the armpit, and Rosemund tried to jerk away, but Kivrin held her tightly.

It was not as large as the clerk's had been, but it was bright red and already hard to the touch. No, Kivrin thought. No. Rosemund moaned and tried to pull her arm away, and Kivrin laid it gently down, arranging the sleeve under it.

"What's happened?" Agnes said from halfway down the stairs. "Is Rosemund ill?"

I can't let this happen, Kivrin thought. I must get help. They've all been exposed, even Agnes, and there's nothing here to help them. Antimicrobials won't be discovered for six hundred years.

"Your sins have brought this," Imeyne said.

Kivrin looked up. Eliwys was looking at Imeyne, but absently, as if she hadn't heard her.

"Your sins and Gawyn's," Imeyne said.

"Gawyn," Kivrin said. He could show her where the drop was, and she could go get help. Dr. Ahrens would know what to do. And Mr. Dunworthy. Dr. Ahrens would give her vaccine and streptomycin to bring back.

"Where is Gawyn?" Kivrin said.

Eliwys was looking at her now, and her face was full of longing, full of hope. He has finally got her attention, Kivrin thought. "Gawyn," Kivrin said. "Where is he?"

"Gone," Eliwys said.

"Gone where?" she said. "I must speak with him. We must go fetch help."

"There is no help," Lady Imeyne said. She knelt beside Rosemund and folded her hands. "It is God's punishment."

Kivrin stood up. "Gone where?"

"To Bath," Eliwys said. "To bring my husband."

I decided I'd better try to get this all down. Mr. Gilchrist said he hoped with the opening of Mediaeval we'd be able to obtain a first-hand account of the Black Death, and I guess this is it.

The first case of plague here was the clerk who came with the bishop's envoy. I don't know if he was ill when they arrived or not. He could have been and that was why they came here instead of going on to Oxford, to get rid of him before he infected them. He was definitely ill on Christmas morning when they left, which means he was probably contagious the night before, when he had contact with at least half the village.

He has transmitted the disease to Lord Guillaume's daughter, Rosemund, who fell ill on…the twenty-sixth? I've lost all track of time. Both of them have the classic buboes. The clerk's bubo has broken and is draining. Rosemund's is hard and growing larger. It's nearly the size of a walnut. The area around it is inflamed. Both of them have high fevers and are intermittently delirious.

Father Roche and I have isolated them in the bower and have told everyone to stay in their houses and avoid all contact with each other, but I'm afraid it's too late. Nearly everyone in the village was at the Christmas feast, and the whole family was in here with the clerk.

I wish I knew whether the disease is contagious before the symptoms appear and how long the incubation period is. I know that the plague takes three forms: bubonic, which is spread by fleas on the rats; pneumonic, which is droplet; and septicemic, which goes straight into the bloodstream, and I know the pneumonic form is the most contagious since it can be spread by coughing or breathing on people and by touch. The clerk and Rosemund both seem to have the bubonic.

I am so frightened I can't even think. It washes over me in waves. I'll be doing all right, and then suddenly the fear swamps me, and I have to take hold of the bedframe to keep from running out of the room, out of the house, out of the village, away from it!

I know I've had my plague inoculations, but I'd had my T- cells enhanced and my antivirals, and I still got whatever it was I got, and every time the clerk touches me, I cringe. Father Roche keeps forgetting to wear his mask, and I'm so afraid he's going to catch it, or Agnes. And I'm afraid the clerk is going to die. And Rosemund. And I'm afraid somebody in the village is going to get pneumonic, and Gawyn won't come back, and I won't find the drop before the rendezvous.

I feel a bit calmer. It seems to help, talking to you, whether you can hear me or not.

Rosemund's young and strong. And the plague didn't kill everyone. In some villages no one at all died.

They took Rosemund up to the bower, making a pallet on the floor for her in the narrow space beside the bed. Roche covered it with a linen sheet and went out to the barn's loft to fetch bedcoverings.

Kivrin had been afraid Rosemund would balk at the sight of the clerk, with his grotesque tongue and blackening skin, but she scarcely glanced at him. She took her surcote and shoes off and lay down gratefully on the narrow pallet. Kivrin took the rabbitskin coverlet from the bed and put it over her.

"Will I scream and run at people like the clerk?" Rosemund asked.

"Nay," Kivrin said, and tried to smile. "Try to rest. Does it hurt anywhere?"