Alys Clare - The Chatter of the Maidens

‘I am accompanied by two lay brothers,’ Helewise said, hesitating on the doorstep, ‘and we each have a horse. . ’

The huge nun glanced outside, taking in at a glance the figure of Saul, just behind the Abbess, and, beyond him, Augustine holding the horses. ‘The men and the horses can go in there.’ She held the lantern aloft, pointing with the other hand towards one of the other two buildings, smaller and less well maintained than the main one. ‘Hardly a stable, since we have no horse, but there’s straw in there for our pig, and it’ll keep out the mist and the fumes of the night air.’

‘Will you be all right, Abbess?’ Saul muttered in her ear.

‘Yes, Saul. You and Augustine get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.’

She watched them head off for the outhouse. Then she followed the nun inside and closed the door. The nun edged her out of the way and barred it.

Then she turned and stared at Helewise. Indicating a curtained-off area at the far end of the room, she said, ‘The others are in there. I’ll tell them who you are and why you’ve come, then I’ll heat some water and make you a hot drink.’

‘Thank you,’ Helewise replied vaguely.

Tell them why you’ve come . But how could the big nun possibly know, since Helewise hadn’t told her? She felt a shiver of fear run through her. This place, this desolate place, she thought, trying to be rational, must be affecting her. She must have misheard. .

The nun was back within moments. Talking as she moved about, poking up the fire in the central hearth and suspending a pot over it from a tripod, she said, ‘I’ve some chamomile, it will help you sleep. And perhaps a pinch of valerian. There, it’ll soon be ready.’ She fetched an earthenware mug, dusted it on the skirt of her gown, and placed it on the floor beside the hearth. ‘Really,’ she went on in the same conversational tone, ‘we were quite sure we’d seen the last of Alba.’

The nun poured hot water on to the herbs she had put into the cup, stirred the mixture with her finger and, after a few moments, handed it to Helewise.

‘Hmm,’ she mused. ‘Think I’ll have one myself.’

Deliberately closing her mind to the filthy skirt and the finger that the nun had used to stir, Helewise sipped her drink. It tasted surprisingly good; there was the distinct sweetness of honey.

‘Now,’ the nun said, settling beside Helewise, ‘you’re here about Alba.’

‘How did you know?’

The woman smiled faintly. ‘We have our share of troubles here at Sedgebeck. Most of them — loneliness, not enough to eat, mist, damp, ague — we can cope with. Alba, however, was beyond our skills.’ She sighed.

Desperately curious to hear more, nevertheless Helewise remembered her manners. ‘Are you — forgive my asking, but are you the superior here? Only. . ’

‘Only you should not speak of such private matters other than to another superior. Quite right, Abbess. .?’

‘Helewise.’

‘Abbess Helewise. Yes, I am the superior. I am Abbess Madelina.’

‘And you are sure that our talking will not disturb your sleeping sisters?’

Abbess Madelina gave a quiet laugh. ‘One is elderly and almost totally deaf, one is sick and has taken a sleeping draught, one is so deep in her communion with Our Lord that she will be hard put to hear the Last Trump when it summons her.’

‘And the others?’

The Abbess gave her a strange look. ‘There are no others.’

Four women alone in this wilderness! Helewise thought, aghast. Dear Lord, what a place! What did they do here?’

Abbess Madelina said, ‘We work our small patch of land, we tend our animals, we pray.’

Stunned, Helewise said, ‘How did you know what I was thinking?’

‘We receive few visitors, as you will readily understand. Those who do persevere through the marsh, the mists and the biting flies all say the same thing. How do we cope with living out here?’

‘I am sorry,’

‘No need to be. In answer to the question, we always say the same words. That God has called us to this lonely, desolate place in order that His precious light shall illuminate the darkness, and that when He calls, we obey.’ Abbess Madelina stood up. ‘Now, will you have more to drink?’

No longer the least disturbed at thoughts of grubby skirts and dirty fingernails, Helewise held up her cup. ‘Yes, please.’

‘A bite to eat? There’s a heel of bread and some salt pork.’

It would have been rude to reject the kind offer. Besides, Helewise was hungry, and her own provisions were out in the outhouse with the brothers and the horses. ‘Thank you.’

‘And now,’ Abbess Madelina said presently, sitting down again, ‘Alba. She is, I would guess, in some sort of trouble that affects you, or else you would not be here.’

‘She is.’ Quietly, Helewise told the Abbess of the struggle that the Hawkenlye nuns were having in trying to welcome Alba into their fold. She kept her account brief; there was a temptation to open her heart to this friendly stranger, but Helewise resisted it. She made no mention of Alba’s attack on her youngest sister, and alluded only briefly to the blow that Alba had tried to land on her Abbess. ‘So you see,’ she concluded, ‘I am in the difficult position of having been forced into doubting the vocation of a professed nun.’

‘Hmm.’ Abbess Madelina gave Helewise a look from clear blue eyes. Then: ‘I am sorry for your troubles, Abbess Helewise. Our experience of Alba, distressing though it was, did not in general disrupt our little community quite as badly as recent events appear to have disrupted yours.’

And I have not told you the half of it, Helewise thought.

The bright blue eyes were studying her with compassion. Helewise found herself warming to this forthright Abbess, who appeared to accept her dismal lot with such fortitude and serenity. On an impulse, she said, ‘How did you cope with Sister Alba?’

Abbess Madelina said, ‘Not Sister Alba.’

‘Not — but she told me she took the last of her final vows! Five years ago, she said!’

‘She lied to you, Abbess. She was with us for under a year and, although I permitted her to take her first vows and embark on her novitiate, it was an error of judgement. After only four months, I suggested to her that she should not proceed with us. I requested the archbishop to release her from her vows, and she left the convent.’

‘And made her way to us,’ Helewise breathed.

‘Not immediately.’ Abbess Madelina’s face was grim. ‘First she tried to destroy our chapel. With some determination, I might add.’ She held out her right arm, in which the inner bone of the forearm was strangely crooked. ‘I fear that is as good as it is going to get, she said, looking at the bent arm. ‘She — Alba — broke a candlestick over it, and the bones did not knit together quite right.’

Helewise put out a tentative hand, touching her fingertips against the distorted arm. ‘She must have hurt you.’

‘I mended. What about you?’

‘As I said, I managed to step out of the way.’

A silence fell between them. Helewise felt scant satisfaction in having been proved right about Alba; right or wrong, it didn’t remove the terrible dilemma of what to do about her.

Again following the train of her thoughts, Abbess Madelina said, ‘There is much I can tell you about Alba, Abbess, if you will hear me.’

‘Gladly,’ Helewise said. ‘I need your advice, Abbess Madelina.’

‘And you shall have it.’ The big nun got to her feet and, towering over Helewise, said, ‘But it is too long a tale for now. I will tell you in the morning.’