by Shea,Lisa
The row of men crossed themselves reverently, saluting the woman with a bow.
Constance turned to Ralph. “What will you do now? Surely you cannot return to Barnard. You have risked so much on my behalf …”
Ralph glanced at Gabriel, then smiled fondly at Constance. “As long as you are free of Barnard, I will stay with Gabriel. He has offered me a position with him.”
Constance put the alternative – her returning to Barnard’s control - out of her mind with a fierce effort. She stepped forward to embrace Ralph tenderly. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear. She then turned to Gabriel.
Her heart caught as she gazed into his eyes. He had stayed with her every step of the way, never faltering, her steady rock. His eyes shone with resolution and concern. She raised a hand to rest against his cheek, and she felt the strength, the power that shone within him.
“How did it get to this, Gabe?” she asked softly, her voice breaking.
He put a hand tenderly over hers, bringing it down to hold to his lips for a gentle kiss.
“I will be at the gate each morning, from eight to nine in case you need me. I will be here, to spend time with you, to sit with you, to ferry a message to your family if need be. Together we will figure something out.”
Constance wanted to think there was a solution to all of this, and she allowed herself to believe an answer was within reach, if only for now. She nodded, forcing herself to smile. Then she raised her gaze to look out at the Angelus who ringed her.
“If there is any way I can repay your help, I stand ready to do everything within my power,” she vowed to the men. “Truly, you have saved my life. I offer you my heartfelt thanks, and I will add my prayers to those of the abbey nuns for your safety and success in whatever your missions may be.”
The men bowed to her solemnly.
Constance allowed herself one final look at Gabriel, then she turned. The Abbess and her aunt fell in on either side of her, and together they entered the nunnery. Behind her, she heard the large, heavy oak doors of the main gate draw shut, and the heavy bar was pushed across them to seal the way.
“First we will get some food into you,” stated the abbess, her voice creaking with age but replete with inner strength. “Then you will tell us everything, from the beginning up to this very moment.”
Chapter 17
Constance stretched on her bed, a sense of peace and safety beginning to drift into her aching world. Her room at the nunnery was neat and clean. The blanket was embroidered with delicate white primroses, and the trunk at the foot of her bed was simple, yet glowed from tender daily polishing. The morning sunlight streamed in through the open window, sending shafts of gold across the swept wooden floor.
She knew the rhythms of the nunnery by heart, having come here every year for most of her life. She would have missed the dawn service of Matins already. Prime, starting at 7am, would be going on now. Then at 9am was Terce, noon was Sext, 3pm was None, sunset brought Vespers, bedtime was Compline and then the midnight office. Each meeting had its own focus, its own rituals.
A simple robe lay in the trunk and she put it on, washing quickly before heading down to the sanctuary. She slipped quietly into the rear of the nave, moving silently so as not to disturb the roomful of women in their prayers. She appreciated the quiet meditation of the office, and gave herself a few minutes before focusing her attention on the sermon.
The abbess was talking to the group about the banishment of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden; how their desire for knowledge caused a breach in their contract with God. Constance found herself relating the story to her own life. Had it been her desire to help other women, to give them a better life, which had formed a breach in her relationship with Barnard? Perhaps if she had been more docile, had not desired to grow and learn, she could have been content … or at least not in her current situation.
She shook her head, unable to accept this answer. Barnard had been cold to her for years, had violated the vows he claimed they had shared in word and deed. She had tried to show Christian charity, and had been disrespected and abused for her troubles.
The Abbess’s words cut through her thoughts. “We are told by the male church leaders that the story of Adam and Eve is one of female weakness. They justify many of their actions with the words from Genesis. Because of the one line, ‘in sorrow you shall bring forth children’, they insist women have no salve or balm during childbirth and many die as a result. Where holy warriors and Templars are allowed medication and succor, women bringing new Christians in the world are allowed to languish in pain and die.”
She took in a breath, her eyes sweeping the room of quiet women. “Still, was Genesis a recitation of fact? Was it rather an important story for us to learn and take guidance from, as rational adults? Take, for example, the case of the snake. Now, those of you sisters who come from Ireland might not know about snakes …” She looked fondly at a trio of young women who sat to one side, and they chuckled quietly at her jest. “The snake in this story talks to Eve about the forbidden fruit. The snake tells her it is fine to consume. He says her eyes will be opened.”
She pursed her lips in consideration. “Why did he do this? The fruit represented knowledge – the basic, mature understanding of right and wrong. Up until then, Adam and Eve are said to have been unable to judge good from evil. They were like animals, simply doing what their instincts drove them to do without any moral sense. The eating of the fruit gave them that moral sense.”
Her eyes shone with passion as she continued. “We pride ourselves on having that ability in modern times. Should we not rejoice that we have that moral compass? It is only because we choose good that we have proven our worthiness. If we have no choice, we are no different from a trickling mountain stream, or wayward sheep.”
Constance pondered the thought for a moment. It was true, she valued her ability to make a choice, to decide on a path which was correct for her. She would not want a life where she was trapped in a rutted path, forced to go in one direction only.
The Abbess’s voice carried strongly across the room of attentive listeners. “So how could Eve be faulted for choosing the apple, when she did not yet know right from wrong?”
She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Also, God surely knew that this would happen. He is omniscient. He knew this was the inevitable result. Her growth up to that point was complete. She – and Adam – needed to take the next step, to grow as rational human beings. The Lord knew he would need to turn them out of the garden, into the world.”
Constance always found the sermons of the Abbess to be fascinating. The priest at her local church merely recited the gospels, instructing the laity to memorize them without thought or comment. Every time she attended one of the offices here at the nunnery, she found herself fascinated by the Bible, more curious to read it for several hours after the discussion – often right until the next office was about to begin.
The lesson was coming to an end, and the women began standing, gathering in groups of two or three to discuss the message before moving on to breakfast or other morning duties. Silvia spotted Constance in the corner and came over to join her.
“Well met, niece!” she called out in pleasure, taking her arm. “The abbess would like us to have breakfast with her in her office. Shall we go?”
Together the two women walked out to the main hall. A bustle of women surrounded them, walking over to the main dining area. Constance and Silvia turned left, going up the long flight of stairs to the second floor. The door at the top stood open, and they walked into the room beyond.
Abbess Agnes was waiting for the pair in her sparse, stone room. A polished oaken desk stood to one side, her quill and inkstand neatly arranged in the corner. A fireplace sat cold on one wall, and a trio of windows opened up over the main courtyard, letting in a gentle summer breeze.
A table had been set at the center of the room with three stools tucked in around it. Agnes gestured toward the table and they took their seats.
A pair of sisters moved in at once, laying down trenchers and cups for each woman. When they were sure that all was set, they left the room, closing the door quietly behind them.
The Abbess gave a short prayer in her low, raspy voice. Constance listened dutifully with folded hands and downcast eyes. She echoed the “Amen”, and then the group was passing around the toasted bread, apple tarts, and sausages.
The Abbess smiled fondly at Constance, drawing her in with a ready smile. “Did you know that the Bible never names the forbidden fruit as an apple?” she asked her young friend with a raised eyebrow, serving out the tarts. “The poor apple has been maligned for centuries, when it was never even involved in the story. Most scholars believe it was the pomegranate that Eve consumed.”
“It figures,” chuckled Constance with a smile. “A mistranslation somewhere along the line, and millions of people scorn a completely innocent fruit. How can we go about clearing its name?”
“Ah, once a reputation is formed, my child, it is nearly impossible to undo,” offered the Abbess with mock sadness. “The apple will simply have to bear the weight, and know in its own heart that it is innocent.”
Constance nodded, taking in a bite of the apple tart. “It is very tasty,” she commented with delight. “That is some consolation.”
Abbess Agnes took a long drink of her herbal tea, letting the women eat for a few moments. She then looked over with a calm warmth. “Our long talk yesterday afternoon was very enlightening, and I hope we now understand the state you are in. I imagine after a night of reflection that you have some questions for us. Please ask anything – we will do our best to assist you.”
Constance thought on her offer for a while, nibbling on her bread. The older women ate in contented silence, in no rush to move the conversation along. After a while, Constance brought up the question which had occupied her thoughts that morning.
“Would I be welcome as a novice here?”
Agnes and Silvia exchanged glances holding more understanding than surprise. Agnes nodded her head readily. “Yes, certainly, we have had several married women join our ranks. You know that many of our sisters are widows. Your aunt Silvia here joined us after her husband died. We do also have a few who took their vows while their husbands were alive, each for her own reasons. All that matters is that the woman has a sincere desire to serve God.”
Constance looked down at the bread in her hand. Barnard swore he had unquestionable proof they were married. “Does she need the permission of her husband?”
A smile quirked at Agnes’ mouth. “A commitment to God is of far higher precedence than any worldly concern,” she intoned smoothly. “Any man or woman who chooses service to God is fully supported by the Holy Church – and the Pope himself – in their aim.” Her smile deepened. “Especially if there is any material benefit to the church, as you might imagine.”
“The land at Beadnell,” replied Constance, her eyes harried. “However, I undertook this union to keep the people in that land safe. If Barnard cannot manage that responsibility, am I doing any better in turning it over to the church?”
Agnes looked over at Silvia, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, the church is far from a passive victim,” she pointed out. “The crusades and the activities of the Templar Knights have made that quite clear.”
Constance shook her head. “That is all thousands of miles away, in lands much desired by the Pope and his ilk. What concern would they have for a small patch of land in northern England?”
“The church needs more educated members – missionaries, priests, monks, and nuns,” pointed out Agnes, her wrinkled face creased with thought. “We need a place in a protected area to educate our members. It would not be safe to set a school up in a contested area like Jerusalem. The Pope has asked all heads in England to keep an eye open for land that is well suited to creating a center of education. A nunnery – or monastery – dedicated to reading, writing, illumination, and transcription.”
Constance’s heart kindled with hope. “A training center?” she repeated, enthusiasm filling her. “To train the laity as well?”
Agnes nodded in understanding. “Yes, certainly, I know well of your efforts with women in your area. We would help them learn what skills they had an interest in. We would teach them of philosophy and critical reasoning, of numbering and reading. Also, as with all our sisters, we would include practical training – self-defense, herbal lore, and basic healing.”
Constance was sorely tempted. This was more than she had imagined to be possible. She did so much enjoy her time here, the quiet lifestyle of the sisters, the opportunity to think and learn and grow. She would adore working with the women of the neighboring villages, helping them expand their horizons.
Still, her dreams …
She looked down, not yet willing to close the door completely on any hope for the future, on any hope to be with Gabriel. “Would I need to take permanent vows immediately?” she asked, her voice low.
Agnes shook her head. “No, we want women to fully understand all that is involved in a life here before they take that step. We need to ensure they are at peace with their choice. Each novice begins with a year of postulancy, a trial period as it were. After that there is another year of novitiate. During this period the woman cuts her hair and dons the habit. Only then is she asked to profess a desire to take her vows. Even then, it is another three to five years before she takes the final step and becomes a bride of the church. This ensures that each woman wholeheartedly chooses her lifelong commitment here.”
“Women who marry should be counseled to go through the same stages,” muttered Constance under her breath. “For that commitment is no less important.”
Agnes looked at Silvia and smiled. “Indeed, we have often said that they should,” she agreed, nodding. “It is the wise and rational choice. However, many couples are neither wise nor rational when they decide to tie themselves together for life. They are thinking with more base emotions.”
“Well, then, seven years,” mused Constance. “That is a long time, certainly enough time to sort out these issues, to come to terms …” she took a long drink of her chamomile tea. “Think, to work at a center of learning … to help educate the women of this area …” Her voice became wistful.
Agnes patted her hand gently. “There is no need to rush,” she commented quietly. “The best decisions are made over time, after much thought, contemplation, and prayer. We are here to answer any questions you may have, to help you in any manner we can. In the meantime, as always, feel free to take advantage of our hospitality. You are a welcome and most helpful guest.”
The bells of the church rang eight o’clock, and Constance looked up, her heart beating quickly.
“You run along,” waved Agnes, sitting back with a smile. “Silvia and I have things to discuss now.”
Constance curtsied, then tripped down the stairs with flying feet, heading for the main gate. One of the doors was open wide, and there, in the opening, stood Gabriel.
The sun shone down fully upon him, his leather armor fitting him like a second skin, highlighting the strength in his arms, the leanness in his form. His sword hung at the ready on his hip, and her eyes swept to the short blond hair she longed to run her fingers through. He was the very vision of masculine strength to her. Her heart thundered in her chest as she crossed the courtyard in a mere moment, pulling up on her side of the entryway with a smile.
Gabriel swung his arm down into a courtly bow, greeting her with warm eyes. “Good morning, My Lady,” he welcomed with elegant charm. “How are you on this fine day?”
Constance glanced around the area with caution. A wide meadow stretched out before the gates of the nunnery, and a pair of guards stood alertly on either side of the door. Down the long slope began the outskirts of the village, and on the far side, the ocean was a distant hint of salt in the air.
Tentatively, she took a step across the threshold, the invisible demarcation of the nunnery’s boundaries. She slid her hand
through Gabriel’s proffered arm, and walked with him the few steps over to the carven stone bench which sat to one side of the gate. She sat down on it and gazed upwards, reveling in the warm sunshine.
“I am doing well,” she sighed, her shoulders relaxing back against the wall. “Very well. I spent most of last night and this morning with the Abbess and my aunt. They are very wise and learned women.”
Gabriel nodded in agreement. “Abbess Agnes can always be counted on to see straight to the heart of any matter, and to offer wise council,” he agreed, his eyes distant.
Constance glanced sideways at him, wondering when he would have spoken with the Abbess. On their trips to visit her aunt all those years ago, he had escorted her to the gates, but no further. “When have you discussed issues with her?”
Gabriel glanced up, his eyes shadowed. “My travels take me here and there,” he replied vaguely. “The abbess is not always confined to the nunnery. She goes out on business, and our paths cross.”
Constance thought on this for a moment, then nodded. Generally the sisters remained within the walls for their own safety, but some did choose to travel to nearby nunneries or shrines, either to make a pilgrimage or to learn from a respected teacher.
“I spoke with them about staying here for a while,” she began, moving the topic to the one closest to her heart. “It appears it is very much an option for me.”
A shadow crossed over Gabriel’s face. “Staying at the nunnery?”
Constance put her hand over his. “For now, it is only a temporary solution,” she consoled him, giving his fingers a squeeze. “Even if I did start down the path to becoming a sister, it is a long voyage – seven years. A lot can happen in that time. It would keep me safe from Barnard.”
“I can keep you safe from Barnard,” muttered Gabriel under his breath.
Constance shook her head. “You know this is a far larger matter,” she commented quietly. “It is a matter of politics, of land ownership, and of military might. If we go against the law, then the force of the King’s army will be against us, and we cannot withstand that.”