Chapter Eighteen - Unfurling

After the profession, the three additions to the nunnery disappeared into the priory as if they had been swallowed into a marais. It was not until the next morning at Prime that Anne could see Sister Thecla, and then, only at a distance. Her new black veil acted even more as a hood, so it was difficult to see her face. What Anne could see was hemmed in by white wimple, and even more downcast than she was used to see in her sister.

It was easier to discover the new sparkling nun because of her sniffling and nose blowing. Anne noticed she was crying and often dabbed at her red eyes with her handkerchief. Anne wondered why she’d come straight to be professed and not been taken as a postulant first?

In contrast, the air of peace that came from the new postulant, the girl with the hunchback wearing a simple black dress with white collar, was almost tangible. She walked with Sister Gertrude and stayed as close as she could to that eminent scholar as they walked through the cloisters and over to the refectory.

Surreptitiously, Anne watched the three throughout breakfast and thought perhaps she wasn’t alone. The atmosphere was quiet, and she could only imagine what those young women might be feeling as objects of such interest. The crying girl dissolved into sobs at one point. She saw Sister Blandine look at Sister Gertrude and, seeming to volunteer for the position, went to sit beside the desolate girl and offer her companionship. Anne was curious about this young nun from an apparently wealthy background. What was she doing here?

Anne saw Claude looking at her across the room and signalled that, yes, she would meet him after the meal. She imagined they’d go straightaway to find Jeanette and, in talking to her sister, find out how God had changed her overnight.

But, as they made their way to the door, they found the Mother barring their way, leaning as usual on Sister Beatrix’s shoulder. Both nuns looked at the youngsters with kindness though Anne knew there must be purpose behind the Mother’s supposed accidental meeting.

‘I take it you wish to visit your sister?’ Seeing their nods, the Mother said, ‘You must both give me your word that you will grant Sister Thecla an interval of recuperation. This is not a strict retreat from the world, as it was before her profession, but a quiet return to it in a new fragile form.’

Sister Beatrix added, ‘Much like those in recuperation from the measles require rest as they regain their strength, bit by bit.’

‘You understand?’

Claude sounded sulky but he said, ‘Yes, Mother.’

‘Yes, Mother.’ Anne agreed but she could not help feeling despondent. How much time? She felt every day of separation from her sister as a trial.

The Mother asked, ‘Do you know why I chose the name of the hermit for her?’

Claude thought for a small moment before he said, ‘No, Mother.’

Anne thought, ‘Because she died a virgin?’

‘That’s true, Anne. But, as well as being pure, Saint Thecla was a survivor. She persisted for many years while threatened with death by fire and wild animals. She lived in a cave and survived a mob attack to be buried in the tomb next to Saint Paul. Do you understand now, Anne?’

‘I don’t know, Mother.’

‘Your sister is a survivor. She’ll live many years and grow old and wise—'

‘Like you, Mother?’ Claude said helpfully.

Sister Beatrix and the Mother exchanged an amused glance.

‘Perhaps even as old and wise as that,’ the Mother said.

‘Although, that must be difficult to imagine,’ said Sister Beatrix with a smile.

The Mother agreed but turned back to look at Anne and Claude. ‘Please do not hector her,’ said the Mother. ‘Let her get used to her new name and new station in life without your pestering. Then, thinking of her rather than your own needs, visit her briefly. There’ll be many years to get to know our new sister. Tell me what you think in a few days.’

‘Thank you, Mother.’

‘Thank you, daughter. And now, Claude, I cannot have a child from this priory so tardy for their work. Be off with you.’

Accepting defeat, Anne decided to accompany Claude to the workshop. When they arrived, Pierre was helping Jan load up the cart with tools. Claude joined him while Anne admired their unfinished swords. Anne thought this one even better than the last for it had been made with the assistance of her own brother. The two lads enjoyed a short fencing lesson with her before duty called them.

Sara, with the baby on her hip, handed up sandwiches, a basket of apples and bottles of ale for their lunch and Houtachtig pranced with joy seeing he would have three young people to throw sticks for him.

Maynard stayed behind to work on the carvings. He nodded to them but said little as the troupe departed for the day’s work.

While the two boys took turns to work with Jan to mend a gate at a nearby farm, Anne feinted and parried until she was tired. Then she sat to watch the woodworking. Of course, Houtachtig would have no-one sitting down relaxing while there was playing to be done, so Anne found her arm strengthened by too much throwing.

Later, on their return to the workshop, Anne stood and watched Maynard, hunched over the panel. The light, beginning to warm into afternoon gold, came in from the west in straight lines. A buttery aroma rose through the dust motes. His hands smoothed the surface of his carvings with delicacy, sweeping away detritus. His face concentrated on the curves and whorls of heavenly clouds. His chisels sliced, sheared, and severed. The workbench and floor around him were littered in flakes and curlicues.

She walked silently towards him, ready to look over his shoulder and see the details. Equally quietly, without even looking up, Maynard lifted a piece of hemp sacking to cover his work. Before she could speak, he looked up at her and shook his head. He wouldn’t show her the carvings.

‘But,’ said Anne, ready to justify that she’d been there at the sketching, she should be able to see what he’d been doing …

Maynard looked at her and sighed.

Now it was time for Anne to shake her head. She wondered how long it would take him to accept Jeanette could never live here, in the woodworking world, with him.

Life in the orphanage resumed its simple structure, the bells signifying the voice of the Divine. Seven times a day the nuns prayed for their community: Lauds at dawn, Prime first thing, then Terce mid-morning, Sext (just before lunch), None in the mid-afternoon, Vespers (before dinner), Compline (before bed) and Matins at midnight. Anne and the other children were expected in church for Prime, Sext and Vespers and, if they wished, they could choose to join the nuns any other time.

Perhaps because of her day with Jan in the forest, Anne found herself helping Sister Matildé more in the garden, growing interested in plants and herbs used in the infirmary. Sister Matildé wasted no energy on small talk. There was much to be done, and Anne’s senses were overladen with textures and aromas.

Claude and Pierre left each morning straight after scraping the porridge from their bowls. They learned much about different trees and woods. They learned about tenons and mortises and, on his return to the priory, Claude was keen to explain everything, with diagrams drawn in the dirt, to show his sister the fascinating way things joined together. Anne tried not to yawn.

All this time, Maynard sharpened his chisels and measured his designs, and carved into the linden wood.

So it came to pass that one day, Anne guided Maynard into the library. He was carrying a large panel, carefully covered in sacking, and tied with jute rope. He leaned it up against the staircase and, looking up at the oak, Anne thought he patted the staircase as though it were a horse to show his fond approval.

Between them, Claude and Pierre carried a panel, also wrapped. They laid it down carefully and returned to the cart for the last one.

After they’d gone, Maynard turned to Anne and asked her to find Jeanette.

Anne frowned at him. ‘You know she isn’t called Jeanette. Her name is Sister Thecla.’

‘Please, Anne, find her for me.’

‘Maynard, I can’t. She’s married to God.’

In reply, Maynard turned away. He ran up the stairs into the nuns’ dormitory area. He called out, ‘Jeanette! Thecla!’

Anne was overcome with shock. This man had hardly said a word for a month and here he was, in a place of enclosure, a place of feminine reverence to God, and he was shouting such as she’d never heard before.

‘Please!’ He shouted and cried out, ‘Come with me now.’

Anne hardly knew what to do. Should she run to fetch others? Surely, he’d be in terrible trouble. She ran up the stairs after the man and saw that Sister Thecla had already come out from her cell.

He said, ‘I have to have you with me.’

Her sister stood in the corridor with such an expression of compassion on her pale thin face that Anne felt a jolt through her own heart. Would she go? Oh, thought Anne, how wonderful, how fitting, how right, please, Jeanette, go with Maynard and be happy, please …

She said, ‘I promised.’

He whispered, ‘To whom?’

Jeanette glanced to see Anne was there and then back at the man. Her face said the answer was obvious. Could there be any other promise?

She said, ‘To God.’ Jeanette was disarmed. Her hands lay loose at her sides. The wedding ring glinted on her finger.

He came close to her, so close …

They could kiss.

Jeanette looked up at him.

Anne held her breath.

Time seemed to stand still as the man and woman looked at each other.

Anne watched and wondered where everyone else was. She thought Jeanette and Maynard should leave. Right now. Together. The cart and Silvia stood ready. Jeanette had no belongings. It would be a simple matter for her to turn and walk down those oak stairs and never look back.

Infinitesimally, the man bent to the woman.

With a gasp, her inner strength seeming to come from a mysterious source, Sister Thecla took a step back. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘My blessed Mother and Sisters are here, with me, in the convent.’

Maynard leaned forward, ‘Jeanette.’

‘My name is Sister Thecla.’ She backed away. ‘You must go.’

‘Jeanette.’ He followed her into her cell. ‘From the first moment I saw you. You knew too. I know you did.’

Sister Thecla shook her head and said in a tiny, breath of a voice, ‘Maynard.’

Anne tried to think what to do.

Sister Thecla was cornered in her tiny room, and he was on his knees in front of her, weeping. He was a big man, and he was inconsolable. ‘I can’t stand it.’

‘I pray to God for your —’

Attracted by a pounding noise, Anne turned back to see Marie Therese running down the hallway holding the big marble cross from the library. She could barely carry it; it was so heavy. In a rush, like a wild thing, she entered Jeanette’s cell and hoisted the cross as though to bring it down on Maynard’s head.

Anne was horrified. She cried out, ‘In the name of all that is Holy, STOP.’

Maynard spun around and was able to slow the descent of the cross with his arms, catching the weight of it on his right hand but could not prevent it striking his head. He fell to the floor, still covered by the weight of the cross.

Sister Thecla screamed and dashed forward.

Maynard lay limp on the ground. The young nun examined him, was he still breathing? Heaved the cross to one side, shoved it toward the feet of Marie Therese, who stood in the doorway, panting.

Anne was in the hallway, staring in at her sister, paralysed by fear.

Marie Therese shouted, ‘He attacked you!

Sister Thecla, somehow finding strength in this disaster, satisfied the man was still alive, made sure he was lying straight so his breathing was clear and checked his poor injured arms. She directed a cold voice at the tertiary, without looking at her. ‘You thought he was taking me away.’

Marie Therese cried, ‘I want to save you!’

In her new-found granite voice, the young nun growled, ‘You wanted to save yourself!’

‘Jeanette!’ cried the miserable nun, her body contorted with some inner agony, ‘I want to protect!’

‘You could have killed him.’ Then, finally, Sister Thecla rose to her feet and stared at Marie Therese. ‘You must confess everything. Everything, do you hear! You must tell Anne before you die. And you must make penance. Or you should hang for what you could have done.’

The thin older nun cowered, twisted, and then retorted in a strange voice, ‘What I did? Men are evil, not me!’

Anne was terrified, her heart beating against her ribs.

‘Anne, run for help!’ Sister Thecla looked at Anne and saw that she was frozen. She shouted out of the door, ‘Help! Marie Therese must be contained!’

Then she returned to Maynard.

With enormous fear, Anne asked Marie Therese, ‘What did you do?’

Marie Therese said, ‘She’s confused.’

From her place on the floor, Jeanette said, ‘I am not confused.’

Anne was the one who felt confusion. What demons grappled with Marie Therese’s soul?

Her face contorted and she snarled, ‘You are confused. Because of men!’ Marie Therese turned to Anne. ‘Remember, Anne. Men trick you. The enemy. You stay with Benedictines. Then you are safe.’

As she tended the man’s injured head, Sister Thecla cried, ‘Get her out!’

By this time, Sisters Blandine, Matildé and Beatrix had thronged into the cell, trying to understand what had occurred. They managed to sweep up Marie Therese, and take her into the corridor.

‘Anne. Swear. Stay away from men.’ Marie Therese shouted and wrestled, ‘They ruin you, marriage or no.’ Fierce and frenetic, she grappled with her captors.

After all those hours she’d spent in the dark hole, Anne would love to send this awful nun there. But it wasn’t up to her. Anne was beyond herself, her mind racing. What had Sister Thecla meant? Tell her what? What did she need to know? But she could see this was not the time.

Sister Thecla’s face was white, her lips thin and pinched together. ‘Help me.’ She bent down behind Maynard and put her arms under his armpits and heaved to pick up his shoulders.

Anne struggled with his legs. Together they managed to pick up the man and roll him onto the nun’s thin bed.

Sister Thecla washed his face with cool water from the jug and basin in her cell. She knelt beside him and prayed.

When she lifted her head and saw Anne kneeling beside her, she said, ‘Anne. Bring the Mother.’

Anne fled.

When she returned with the Mother leaning on her shoulder, a circle of nuns were clustered around Marie Therese, who was half sobbing, half laughing. They’d locked their arms together, with a crown of elbows, to prevent Marie Therese from going anywhere or bouncing off the walls. They eased her down the corridor and into her own cell. The key was removed from her leather belt and Anne saw they would lock the door when they managed to calm her.

The Mother watched them go and then came to the door of Sister Thecla’s cell. She looked down at the fallen cross and over to Sister Thecla.

Anne could see Maynard stretched out on the bed. Sister Thecla knelt beside him, holding his hand.

The Mother sighed and said, ‘This is why we’re supposed to be locked away.’

Anne looked up at her creamy face, staring at the man on the bed. ‘To protect us from men?’

When the Mother looked down at Anne, she looked her most kind and loving, ‘No, Anne. It’s to protect them.’

She moved into the small space and put her hand on Sister Thecla’s shoulder. When the young nun looked up, the Mother indicated she should leave.

Sister Thecla stayed still for a moment, gazing up at the older woman.

The look of profound sorrow that filled her sister’s face stayed in Anne’s memory for the rest of her life. In that one look Sister Thecla argued with God and God won.

Sister Thecla bent her head and rose to her feet. She did not look back at Maynard. Anne watched her stand. Was there any other way? How could Sister Thecla possibly stay with Maynard? She’d only just taken her vows. Anne found it hard to understand how any Love, such as God was supposed to bear all his children, could hurt her sister as much as Sister Thecla clearly suffered now.

Sister Thecla turned to the Mother and went to her maternal body as if she were a little girl. She wrapped her thin young arms around that soft body and wept. The Mother propelled her out of the room.

Maynard moaned slightly on the bed.

As the Mother walked with Sister Thecla down the thin corridor, she called to Sisters Beatrix, Matildé and Gertrude, the healers, who were part of the force around Marie Therese, to look after the man. The three of them shooed Anne away.

Anne ran to send Pierre and Claude out into the street to the monastery. They’d find Armaud who should help them carry Maynard to the infirmary.

Then they took Silvia and the cart back to Jan.

Eventually Jan came to take Maynard home.

Maynard was forbidden to return to the convent, of course.

Marie Therese was placed in a secure cell until she could be trusted once again.

The carving lay for weeks, propped against the wall of the stairs.

Anne told the Mother she knew Marie Therese needed to be kept away from the community by being shut up in the convent, but questioned what would happen if she were to attack more people inside the enclosure?

The Mother asked Anne, if we could find it in our hearts to forgive? God would. Marie Therese would be forgiven at every turn, if she confessed, as of course she would. It did not matter what she did, for if she was sorry, she would be received into heaven.

Anne visited Maynard’s family at home. Pierre and Claude continued their work, in some way to make up for Marie Therese’s damage. Together the father and son had an apprentice each and two working hands, one left and one right. Maynard’s hand did heal but he would never carve with the same precision again.

Finally, Armaud brought Maynard’s father to the Priory. Together with Jan, the porter nuns and Pierre, Claude and Anne, managed to lock the carved panels into place over the staircase wall to make a cupboard. They had some trouble making the door swing freely and Anne was praised for her aptitude in using the plane. They applied beeswax to protect the wood.

When they stood back to admire it, they saw the Virgin Mary rise in a patterned swirl, trailing decorative streamers of carved clouds, elevated, and empowered by six of the fattest baby cherubs ever seen in this orphanage. But it was Jeanette’s face that the convent saw, Jeanette’s happy face, that smiled out over all the nuns for all the years they came and stood before her.

Anne could not spend enough time with her.