Doomsday Book (Oxford Time Travel, #1)

by Connie Willis

The brooch had red stones set on a round gold ring, and the pin in the center. It had no hinge, but had to be pulled up and stuck through the garment. Letters ran around the outside of the ring: “Io suiicen lui dami amo.” “What does it say?” Agnes said, pointing to the letters ringing the gold circle. “I know not,” Rosemund said in a tone that clearly meant “And I don’t care.” Yvolde’s jaw tightened, and Kivrin said hastily, “It says, ‘You are here in place of the friend I love,’ Agnes,” and then realized sickly what she had done. She looked up at Imeyne, but Imeyne didn’t seem to have noticed anything. “Such words should be on your breast instead of hanging on a peg,” Imeyne said. She took the brooch and pinned it to the front of Rosemund’s kirtle. “And you should be at my brother’s side as befits his betrothed,” Yvolde said, “instead of playing childish games.” She extended her hand in the direction of the hearth where Bloet was sitting, nearly asleep and obviously the worse for all the trips outside, and Rosemund looked beseechingly at Kivrin. “Go and thank Sir Bloet for such a generous gift,” Imeyne said coldly.