Lilah (14 page)

I smiled at her. ‘That will be all, Irene,’ I
said. ‘Thank you.’

She nodded graciously and left. A new chemise
of finely woven linen was left draped across a chair; a
wash
bowl
filled with scented water was on a table, and another empty bowl in
the corner. I attended to my toilet and put on the chemise, then blew out the
candle by the bed to crawl into its feathered softness.

Sleep did not come quickly and when it did my
dreams were erratic. I dreamt of Gabriel in battle, covered in blood before a
sword pierced his heart.

When I woke another servant girl was standing
beside my bed ready to dress me in some of the apparel provided. Shortly after
I was made presentable, Lewis came to my room with his offer as tutor.

And now after my discussion with him, and
contrary to what Gabriel had told me, I couldn’t help but feel that I may have
just bargained with the devil.

Chapter 8

Arianne

The cobbled streets were cool under
my thinly soled shoes. Dust blew across my skirts and dirtied the hem. People shouted
their wares as I walked past. I was glad to find a stall that stood beyond the
chilly shadows of stone buildings. On the windows above, linen had been hung
out to dry, catching the last of the summer rays before the cold came. I dared
not say to anyone that I dreaded yet another winter saving the homeless. Each
year my resolve had weakened against such misfortune, even more so in the
months since Lilah left. My heart had been broken for the work she had done
counted for nothing in the end. The children I collected sick from the streets
could rarely be saved without her.

I saw the man while purchasing the last of the
summer fruits that were bruised and doughy. The streets were busy this market
day. People were bartering and stocking up for winter.
Skinned
animals were being bought up by servants
. Large jars of milk squeezed
from the fattened udders of cows to be stored and used sparingly.

I removed my veil.
This was
not condoned by my superiors
but I needed to be free of my restraints to
embrace the cool breeze. It reminded me of those short-lived days of childhood
when my brothers and I would run through the gardens, wind in our hair and sun
on our faces; before my innocence was stolen.

The first time I had seen the man I had been
returning from distributing food parcels. He passed me in the street his hat
low over his face but I could tell he was examining me. The second time was
when he stood outside the gates, pausing slightly as if to wait for my
attention before proceeding. That time he had lifted his hat to me. The other
sisters in the gardens at the time did not appear to notice him.

As the vendor bent his head to wrap my
purchases the stranger stood in clear view behind. He stared intensely at
something off to his side. And, as if expecting my scrutiny, he turned to me
and smiled. I nodded uncomfortably and my heart pounded. It was not necessarily
his handsomeness that drew me and caused me to fluster but something far
deeper, as if we had shared our thoughts.

I turned to leave but found that he had caught
up with me. It was not uncommon for a sister to enter the towns without a
chaperone, and to converse and walk with strangers, so the townspeople rarely
passed a glance at me. I can say, however, that the man’s appeal spread wider
than our confine for several young ladies could not help but stare at him as he
walked by. His impeccable clothes fit perfectly across broad shoulders, and he
wore an affable, enchanting smile with blue eyes much deeper and darker than my
own.

‘Excuse me sister,’ he said, enunciating his
words distinctly, with a hint of foreignness or eccentricity. ‘I wonder if I
could trouble you for your advice.’

‘Of course,’ I said. As sisters we did not turn
from anyone.

‘Well you see that my belief does not allow me
to enter your church and my family would be horrified at my interest but I have
always had a burning desire to see inside your home. Naturally, I would respect
your deities and your traditions whilst visiting.’

‘They are not deities to us, sir. They are our
creators and redeemers.’

‘Oh, I see,’ he said sheepishly. ‘You must
think I’m terribly rude.’

‘We open our doors to everyone and you are
welcome to pray in our chapel for guidance, which I believe you could be
seeking.’

‘How perceptive you are.
I do have feelings of loss
;
of travelling through life without any value sometimes.
Not that I have anything to complain about.’

‘What was the religion of your parents?’

‘Well unfortunately they are long dead but they
preferred no kind of worship, but that of the beauty around us; of nature and
the wonders of life.’

‘I see.’

‘Do you?’

The question threw me and for a moment I had
the strangest thought of falling from a high precipice to where he stood below,
his arms outstretched to catch me. His presence and closeness made me feel
dizzy and I tried to remain attentive. This meeting seemed significant somehow.

‘Yes, I think so. Your parents did not bring
you up with any spiritual guidance therefore you have feelings of not
belonging. It is only natural that you might want to find your true God and his
son and our saviour, Jesus Christ’.

‘Perhaps you are right.’

‘Our monastery would open their arms to you.
There is nothing like a conversion to brighten our abbess’ day.’ I could not
help the jest and his eyes lit up.

‘Sister, you
are not like any other I have met.’ He touched my hand and I did not shrink
away but held his gaze boldly. He paused then and repeated in a whisper,
‘nothing
like any other.’

We had begun to attract attention from
passersby, and suddenly aware of the intimacy, I pulled my hand away quickly.

‘Will you return with me now?’

‘No, not now, but soon,’ he said. ‘I have a
pressing engagement to attend to. My family requires it of me… to do with a
young cousin staying with us.’

He walked back down the street disappearing
into the crowded market and I assumed that he was from out of town. I wondered
about the young cousin and strangely hoped that she was very young or
unattractive.

My cheeks felt flushed and I scolded myself for
such a reaction. My mother once said that I was a handful and the man I married
would have to be interested only in brazen, wilful women. She was relieved when
I volunteered to be a sister and quite decisive in wrapping up the deal with
the convent along with a bag of denars.

I was in charge of fewer orphans these days.
Sister Gertrude had organised for several of the children to work for local
families in exchange for board. If they made their way back to the monastery
– either discarded or mistreated – I was instructed to turn them
away. The stranger, at least, gave me reason to think of something else instead
of the sad fates of these children; something Lilah and I had worked so hard to
prevent.

For several nights I lay in bed thinking about
him, his eyes so aqueous and vivid. One day after a night of very little sleep
he arrived asking for me. It was curious that he had learnt my name for I had
not introduced myself.

We met in the foyer of the church and knelt
together. I instructed him to pray and caught him watching me with a grin. He
rolled his eyes towards one of the sisters praying on the far side. She was
chanting in Latin over and over, her head bobbing up and down passionately.

‘Are they always so expressive?’ he whispered
cheekily.

I don’t know why I had never seen such actions
as funny before but all of a sudden a short laugh escaped me. Several of the
sisters turned to look, taking me in with a frown and a look of caution before
their eyes rested on the man suspiciously.

I nodded, said a silent apology to Jesus above
me on the cross then left the church. Composed once again in the garden the man
came to my side and I was regretful for my outburst.

‘I do not think this is the place for you,’ I
suggested.

‘No, perhaps you are right,’ he said with a
sigh. Looking at those merrymaking eyes again I could not help but smile. He
was right. I was definitely not like the other sisters, a fact that I had tried
to ignore over the years. Curing children had been a diversion for any other
ambition.

‘You should go,’ I said reluctantly, wishing
instead to spend many hours asking about his life.

‘As you wish, Sister Arianne,’ he said. He
bowed, lifted his hat, and proceeded to walk away.

‘Wait!’

He turned with a glint in his eye almost
expecting this.

‘Will I perhaps see you at the market Mr…’

‘Just Gabriel will be fine. And yes, you most
certainly will.’

My heart beat strongly as I returned to the
church. One of the sisters pulled me aside and chastised me for bringing someone
who was neither dedicated, nor intended on being, into our midst. I humbly
apologised and rushed back to my room where I sat on the bed.

I lifted off my habit and retrieved a piece of
glass from my bag – one of the few possessions I had kept from my
childhood home. Long hair uncurled over my shoulders and I wondered if he saw a
woman or a servant of the church when he looked at me. In frustration, I put
the glass on the floor and cracked it. This was vanity. I could not keep to my
calling if I were to think of how I looked, although I did not really
understand what a calling was. A message from God was something I did not
experience. My calling was something I made myself
;
an
option chosen totally out of desperation.

After several days of praying I felt closed in
– something I had never felt during my time at the monastery. Gabriel had
left a mark. What indelible feelings, I could not have named at the time, but I
was drawn to this man. He filled my head with thoughts very unreligious and I
proceeded to make excuses for leaving on errands in the town. I would make more
visits to the poor and offered to go to the market often. I found it difficult
to eat. I rarely slept and was often distracted during conversations with the
children and sisters.

Sister Gertrude pulled me aside to query on my
wellbeing and for the first time I found lying easy. I dismissed her concerns
and told her that everything was fine.

She did not believe me and found every
opportunity to give me a chore to keep busy. At first I welcomed these
interruptions to my heavy thoughts, but little by little more uncharitable
imaginings crept in and I avoided running into her. I wanted to be left alone
and not be quizzed. I can say that I had some very dark moments of melancholy.
My buoyancy and energy had now been replaced by something else. Only the
children seemed to pull me out of my dark moments and I prayed again for
strength that I would not let them down. Their trusting, needing faces were now
something I depended upon.

I stopped going to the market and over the next
few days settled down to routine once more. My restlessness had ceased and
thoughts of Gabriel grew dim, while I replaced these with new plans to build
shelters on the outskirts of the cities for the poor. I had already received
help from several landowners to pitch in for the supplies.

Then, when I had finally stopped dreaming
strange dreams of the two of us together in intimate forms of embrace, he came
in the dead of night like an angel to my bedside to lend me his wings.

Sister
Gertrude – journal entry

Sister Arianne has changed these
past months. From the first moment I had confronted her about her flighty
behaviour she has steadily grown worse. I was sad to demote her to only duties
with the children, for that is where she is only attentive these days. We have
only a handful of orphans here now and these will ultimately be groomed for
God’s work. Many of those who have moved on will not be replaced.

I cannot say for certain what has become of
Arianne. The weather has become much worse, and with a foot of snow. Sometimes
I have caught her walking briskly outside the front gates, and disappearing
into a screen of snowfall.
No-one
can say where she
goes but when she returns, sometimes late into the evening, she seems distant;
her clothes damp and habit removed. She avoids eye contact and goes quietly to
her room without explanation.

Some days she will come into the rectory
beaming and excited and she will eat with gusto. Other days she frequently
looks over her shoulder as if she is expecting someone. I find it most
distressing. She has truly been a jewel among us. If the children did not care
for her so much, I would perhaps have sent her back to her family. She is
certainly not like she was. Her dedication has waned. She is like a lost lamb.

I have discussed at length with some of the
other sisters what to do about her. I have even suggested she consult our
surgeon here since it is not like her to be so erratic in nature. It would
sadden me greatly if we were to lose her.