He ignored her. "There has been 'considerable public concern,' as you call it, that the virus was caused by liberal immigration laws," he said. "Do you intend to secede from the EC as well?"

Gilchrist's chin went up, and the pinched lines appeared by his nose, visible even through the mask. "As Acting Head of the History Faculty, it is my responsibility to act in the university's interest. Our position in the community, as I'm certain you're aware, depends on maintaining the good will of the townspeople. I felt it important to calm the public's fears by closing the laboratory until the sequencing arrives. If it indicates that the virus is from South Carolina, then of course the laboratory will be reopened immediately."

"And in the meantime, what about Kivrin?"

"If you cannot keep your voice down," the nurse said, "I shall be forced to report you to Dr. Ahrens."

"Excellent. Go and fetch her," Dunworthy told her. "I want her to tell Mr. Gilchrist how ridiculous he's being. This virus cannot possibly have come through the net."

The nurse stamped out.

"If your protesters are too ignorant to understand the laws of physics," Dunworthy said, "surely they can understand the simple fact that this was a drop. The net was only open to 1320, not from it. Nothing came through from the past."

"If that is the case, then Ms. Engle is not in any danger, and it will do no harm to wait for the sequencing."

"Not in any danger? You don't even know where she is!"

"Your tech obtained the fix, and indicated the drop was successful and that there was minimal slippage," Gilchrist said. He rolled down his sleeve and carefully buttoned the cuff. "I'm satisfied Ms. Engle is where she's supposed to be."

"Well, I'm not. And I won't be until I know Kivrin made it through safely."

"I see I must remind you again that Ms. Engle is my responsibility, not yours, Mr. Dunworthy." He donned his coat. "I must do as I think best."

"And you think it best to set up a quarantine around the laboratory to placate a handful of crackpots," he said bitterly. "There is also 'considerable public concern' that the virus is a judgment from God. What do you intend to do to maintain the good will of those townspeople? Resume burning martyrs at the stake?"

"I resent that remark. And I resent your constant interference in matters which do not concern you. You have been determined from the first to undermine Mediaeval, to keep it from gaining access to time travel, and now you are determined to undermine my authority. May I remind you that I am Acting Head of History in Mr. Basingame's absence, and as such — "

"What you are is an ignorant, self-important fool who should never have been trusted with Mediaeval, let alone Kivrin's safety!"

"I see no reason to continue this discussion," Gilchrist said. "The laboratory is under quarantine. It will remain so until we obtain the sequencing." He walked out.

Dunworthy started after him and nearly collided with Mary. She was wearing SPG's and reading a chart.

"You will not believe what Gilchrist's done now," he said. "A group of picketers convinced him the virus came through the net, and he's barricaded the laboratory."

She didn't say anything or even look up from the chart.

"Badri said this morning that the slippage figures can't be right. He said over and over, 'There's something wrong.'"

She looked up at him distractedly and back at the chart.

"I have a tech ready to read Kivrin's fix remotely, but Gilchrist's locked the doors," he said. You must talk to him, tell him the virus has been firmly established as originating in South Carolina."

"It hasn't."

"What do you mean, it hasn't? Did the sequencing arrive?"

She shook her head. "The WIC located their tech, but she's still running it. But her preliminary read indicates it's not the South Carolina virus." She looked up at him. "And I know it's not." She looked back at the chart. "The South Carolina virus had a zero morbidity rate."

"What do you mean? Has something happened to Badri?"

"No," she said, shutting the chart and holding it to her chest. "Beverly Breen."

He must have looked blank. He had thought she was going to say Latimer.

"The woman with the lavendar umbrella," she said, and sounded angry. "She died just now."

22 December 1320 (Old Style.) Agnes's knee is worse. It's red and painful (an understatement — she screams when I try to touch it) and she can scarcely walk. I don't know what to do — if I tell Lady Imeyne, she'll put one of her poultices on it and make it worse, and Eliwys is distracted and obviously worried.

Gawyn still isn't back. He should have been home by noon yesterday, and when he hadn't shown up by vespers, Eliwys accused Imeyne of sending him to Oxford.

"I have sent him to Courcy, as I told you," Imeyne said defensively. "No doubt the rain keeps him."

"Only to Courcy?" Eliwys said angrily. "Or have you sent him otherwhere for a new chaplain?"

Imeyne drew herself up. "Father Roche is not fit to say the Christmas masses if Sir Bloet and his company come," she said. "Would you be shamed before Rosemund's fiancé?"

Eliwys went absolutely white. "Where have you sent him?"

"I have sent him with a message to the bishop, saying that we are in sore need of a chaplain," she said.

"To Bath?!" Eliwys said, and raised her hand as if she would strike her.

"Nay. Only to Cirencestre. The archdeacon was to lie at the abbey for Yule. I bade Gawyn give him the message. One of his churchmen will bear it thence. Though, certes, things go not so ill in Bath that Gawyn could not go thence himself without harm, else my son would have quitted it."

"Your son will be ill-pleased to find we have disobeyed him. He bade us, and Gawyn, keep to the manor till he come."

She still sounded furious, and as she lowered her hand, she clenched it into a fist, as if she would have liked to box Imeyne's ears the way she does Maisry's. But the color had come back in her cheeks as soon as Imeyne said, "Cirencestre," and I think she was at least a little relieved.

"Certes, things go not so ill in Bath that Gawyn could not go thence without harm," Imeyne said, but it's obvious Eliwys doesn't think he can. Is she afraid he'd ride into a trap or that he might lead Lord Guillaume's enemies here? And are things going so "ill" that Guillaume can't quit Bath?

Perhaps all three. Eliwys has been to the door to look out into the rain at least a dozen times this morning, and she's in as bad a temper as Rosemund was in the woods. Just now she asked Imeyne if she was certain the archdeacon was at Cierncestre. She's obviously worried that if he wasn't, Gawyn will have taken the message into Bath himself.

Her fear has infected everyone. Lady Imeyne has slunk off into a corner with her reliquary to pray, Agnes whines, and Rosemund sits with her embroidery in her lap, staring blindly at it.

I took Agnes to Father Roche this afternoon. Her knee was much worse. She couldn't walk at all, and there was what looked like the beginning of a red streak above it. I couldn't tell for certain — the entire knee is red and swollen-but I was afraid to wait.

There was no cure for blood poisoning in 1320, and it's my fault her knee is infected. If I hadn't insisted on going to look for the drop, she wouldn't have fallen. I know the paradoxes aren't supposed to let my presence here have any effect on what happens to the contemps, but I couldn't take that chance. I wasn't supposed to be able to get catch anything, either.

So when Imeyne went up to the loft, I carried Agnes over to the church to ask him to treat her. It was pouring by the time we got there, but Agnes wasn't whining over getting wet, and that frightened me more than the red streak.