your home.”
Studying her severe yet sincere eyes, I considered. It was an honorable retreat she offered. There was little shame in changing one’s mind from such a step, though left with no better choices than before, I could see no alternative.
I stiffened my narrow shoulders. “The truth of it, Lady Prioress, is that my being here is a convenience to Sir John. But I am here as neither a convenience nor an obedient servant to his will or any other man’s. It is simply that I cannot see myself wed. It is unnatural to me. I am pleased to make this place my home in any capacity you deem proper. But my ultimate aim is to enter here, and never leave it.”
A ghost of a smile flickered at the edges of the prioress’ tight lips. “Your desire seems strong. It will take a strong desire to live this life. That will of yours must be surrendered for the good of the community, and your obedience to me and your fellow sisters here is expected and necessary. I trust obedience to women will not inconvenience you.”
She smiled, but I was mortified. Oh Isabella! When will you ever learn to govern that razor tongue! Though small, Prioress Margaret looked to be a formidable woman. Was she cruel? Kind? There was no way to read it in her shadowed eyes.
“You have yet to mention sincere devotion to God in these protestations,” she said.
There was truth in that, too, but I could not raise my eyes to acknowledge it. It was escape for me, but I did not wish to say so to the prioress. I did not think God would mind so much. I wondered then if the same could be said for the prioress.
“Do you freely give your obedience to those of this house? Can you?”
I bowed. “Yes, Madam.”
The prioress eyed me again, scrutinizing from head to foot. “Are you a virgin?”
I cursed myself for a guilty blush. “Yes, Madam.”
“There are tests. Do you wish to change your answer to me?”
Indignation drained the blush from my cheek, leaving it pale and flat. “I am a virgin, Lady Prioress. Perform any tests you like.”
“Unless you are widowed it is not fitting to become a bride of Christ in any other state… But I believe you, Mistress.” The prioress rose, took my arm, and walked me through the door. “You will need to exchange those clothes for a novice’s gown. I will take you to a place whereby you may do so.”
We emerged into the sunny cloister and were enveloped by the fragrance of roses lining the cloister path. It was a garden of herbs and tiny flowers, intersected by a cruciform gravel path.
“You have a garden,” I sighed. “I am good with gardens. And especially with roses.”
“Good. Then most assuredly, you shall work here.”
I allowed myself a moment of pleasure—the briefest—almost comforted by the prioress’ casual manner. But as the accustomed scent of the garden receded, and we entered the maze of rooms and halls, my bleak comfort was replaced again by fear.
Prioress Margaret guided me to a little upstairs room with two bedsteads. One had a featherbed and the other did not. She gestured to the latter. “This you will share with Dame Cristabell. The other I share with Dame Elizabeth. Store the clothes and any jewelry you are wearing now in one of these coffers. Should you choose to leave us, these things will be returned to you. If you stay, you may do with them what you like. Give them to the poor, for instance.” Out of the cupboard she took a wrapped bundle and handed it to me. Without further ado, she turned and left the room, her footfalls dispersing down the creaky steps.
Bathed with quiet again I stood alone, the black woolens still clamped between my two hands. I glanced at the smudged window. Several of the rectangular panes were cracked and one was replaced entirely with a wooden shingle. The room smelled musty and slightly smoky from the cold ashes in the hearth, but it was clean.
I sat heavily on the mattress and heard the crunch of fresh straw within. There are worse places, I
Studying her severe yet sincere eyes, I considered. It was an honorable retreat she offered. There was little shame in changing one’s mind from such a step, though left with no better choices than before, I could see no alternative.
I stiffened my narrow shoulders. “The truth of it, Lady Prioress, is that my being here is a convenience to Sir John. But I am here as neither a convenience nor an obedient servant to his will or any other man’s. It is simply that I cannot see myself wed. It is unnatural to me. I am pleased to make this place my home in any capacity you deem proper. But my ultimate aim is to enter here, and never leave it.”
A ghost of a smile flickered at the edges of the prioress’ tight lips. “Your desire seems strong. It will take a strong desire to live this life. That will of yours must be surrendered for the good of the community, and your obedience to me and your fellow sisters here is expected and necessary. I trust obedience to women will not inconvenience you.”
She smiled, but I was mortified. Oh Isabella! When will you ever learn to govern that razor tongue! Though small, Prioress Margaret looked to be a formidable woman. Was she cruel? Kind? There was no way to read it in her shadowed eyes.
“You have yet to mention sincere devotion to God in these protestations,” she said.
There was truth in that, too, but I could not raise my eyes to acknowledge it. It was escape for me, but I did not wish to say so to the prioress. I did not think God would mind so much. I wondered then if the same could be said for the prioress.
“Do you freely give your obedience to those of this house? Can you?”
I bowed. “Yes, Madam.”
The prioress eyed me again, scrutinizing from head to foot. “Are you a virgin?”
I cursed myself for a guilty blush. “Yes, Madam.”
“There are tests. Do you wish to change your answer to me?”
Indignation drained the blush from my cheek, leaving it pale and flat. “I am a virgin, Lady Prioress. Perform any tests you like.”
“Unless you are widowed it is not fitting to become a bride of Christ in any other state… But I believe you, Mistress.” The prioress rose, took my arm, and walked me through the door. “You will need to exchange those clothes for a novice’s gown. I will take you to a place whereby you may do so.”
We emerged into the sunny cloister and were enveloped by the fragrance of roses lining the cloister path. It was a garden of herbs and tiny flowers, intersected by a cruciform gravel path.
“You have a garden,” I sighed. “I am good with gardens. And especially with roses.”
“Good. Then most assuredly, you shall work here.”
I allowed myself a moment of pleasure—the briefest—almost comforted by the prioress’ casual manner. But as the accustomed scent of the garden receded, and we entered the maze of rooms and halls, my bleak comfort was replaced again by fear.
Prioress Margaret guided me to a little upstairs room with two bedsteads. One had a featherbed and the other did not. She gestured to the latter. “This you will share with Dame Cristabell. The other I share with Dame Elizabeth. Store the clothes and any jewelry you are wearing now in one of these coffers. Should you choose to leave us, these things will be returned to you. If you stay, you may do with them what you like. Give them to the poor, for instance.” Out of the cupboard she took a wrapped bundle and handed it to me. Without further ado, she turned and left the room, her footfalls dispersing down the creaky steps.
Bathed with quiet again I stood alone, the black woolens still clamped between my two hands. I glanced at the smudged window. Several of the rectangular panes were cracked and one was replaced entirely with a wooden shingle. The room smelled musty and slightly smoky from the cold ashes in the hearth, but it was clean.
I sat heavily on the mattress and heard the crunch of fresh straw within. There are worse places, I
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