MILADY
MILADY
Chapter Eleven - Unfurling
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Chapter Eleven - Unfurling

Templemars, Wallonia, 1610

Anne woke up dazed, hearing the sound of a cart and horse rumbling through the gate outside. Could it be Maynard? And Silvia, the grey mare? Was it today they were bringing the pre-cut and measured wood? And did that mean they might be about to build the staircase? Yes. It must be. That was his voice and then, with Claude and Pierre, all talking together, as they unloaded the cart. There was the crunching of feet on gravel and the snorting of Silvia as she stamped. Maynard must be releasing the horse from the cart and turning her into the field. She could hear the sheep, too, and Doudou braying, calling to Silvia.

As Anne listened, picturing what was happening, she came to understand she was back in the girls’ dormitory. It was daylight but of what hour she could not tell. The sounds of coughing in the room had been constant for some time. She slid out of the blankets and found she was unable to get far. She needed to relieve herself. She tugged at the chain fixed to the bedhead. Her right wrist still wore an iron bracelet.

The six beds stood close together as usual but only two were smooth and empty. Léonie was in the bed next door, and it was she who coughed. Again, she barked, sounding hoarse and sore, poor creature.

Anne looked under the bed and discovered the chamber pot in its usual place. She made use of it, covered it, and slid it back. She stood beside her bed, on the wooden floorboards, and tried to see out of the window but couldn’t reach.

Her ankles were red in places, her wrists not much better. She tried to remember what had occurred last night - or when - how long ago? But no - she couldn’t think of anything except the Mother’s disappointed face. She couldn’t stop weeping rising. The Mother had been good to her and now perhaps she wouldn’t forgive her. If only she’d told someone about those evil pamphlets straight away. If only she hadn’t believed the noblewoman. If only … Hot bitter tears stung.

Felt a hand on her shoulder. The straw bed crackled and sank as someone sat next to her. It was Léonie but Anne hardly knew as she tried to hide her shame. Felt so desperately sorry for herself. Knew no-one could possibly understand. Felt unforgivable. Even by God.

Léonie tried to pat Anne on the back. ‘What can I do?’

‘Leave me alone.’

‘What is it, Anne?’

If only it wasn’t Léonie! The girl who had cried blasphemy at the fall of a piece of bread when it was completely unwarranted! If she found out about those sinful pamphlets now, she’d be the first to call names. And Anne would think her correct.

‘Should I call Sister Beatrix?’

‘Go away.’ As she said this, Anne gave Léonie a push. The girl, taken by surprise, overbalanced and fell to the floor.

By some strange miracle, Sister Catherine must have happened to be passing in the hallway and after hearing the thump, limped into the room.

Anne looked up at her in guilty dismay as the nun saw Léonie on the floor.

‘Léonie?’ Sister Catherine bent to help her, ‘What are you doing out of bed?’

Léonie took her time to get back to her feet. Didn’t look at Anne. She appeared weak and stumbled as she walked, ‘I don’t know, Sister.’

‘Come now, back to bed, you poor little thing. And you too, Anne. Back into bed for you as well. I’ll bring some food.’

Anne watched Léonie try to get down under the bedcovers once more and saw how sick she was. She was even more ashamed of herself.

Léonie didn’t look at her. She turned over and coughed.

Anne wondered how long she’d be chained here. Gave herself up to the punishment for now she understood she’d be going to hell for eternity.

Sister Gertrude came in with bucket and cloth. She went from restless child to restless child, wiping their brows and hands and trying to calm them. Looked at their fronts to check their eruptions and sighed as she examined each one. When Sister Matildé came she nodded to her and muttered, ‘Measles.’

Sister Matildé also went from child to child and gave each a spoon of honey. Anne presumed it was flavoured with some medicine or other and saw those poor hot children tossing and turning, coughing, and coughing and then, one of the little girls jumped from her bed and just managed to grab the sick bucket from the middle of the room before she vomited.

Sister Gertrude tended to her with the damp cloth.

Sister Matildé paused in her ministrations to look at Anne and said, ‘You should eat.’

Anne shook her head and said, ‘I should help you.’

Sister Matildé took a step backward and looked at Anne over her little eyeglasses. ‘You? Want to help?’

Anne pulled on the chain that held her wrist, ‘I know not how.’

Sister Matildé looked at Sister Gertrude, ‘Should she be here?’

Sister Gertrude looked at Anne, pursing her lips and sucking at her missing teeth. She said, ‘I’d better ask Mother.’

And she left the room.

Sister Matildé continued her treatments before she left the dormitory.

After a time, Sister Catherine came unevenly into the room with a tray. She placed it down on the table near Anne and went to see if Léonie could sit up. ‘Léonie? Anne can’t leave her bed. Can you come and sit beside her so I may see you eat something, please? Come, little one.’

Léonie made her way to be beside Anne. As she sat down Anne could feel her heat. Her face was flushed with red spots.

Sister Catherine had bought one large bowl and several leather cups. She spooned soup and shared out the cups so the girls could sit up and drink. Then she served the other sick children, two by two. They propped each other up and caught the cup if one coughed too much. She handed out bread pieces but only Anne was interested in those. And Anne found herself very interested indeed. She ate nearly everyone’s bread and had two helpings of soup. It transpired she had slept through most of the day.

Sister Gertrude appeared with a small key. She unlocked the black metal padlock which held Anne to the bedhead and looked seriously at Anne. ‘You’d best get dressed when you can. The Mother wants to see you.’

Sister Catherine said, ‘How do you feel?’

Anne said, ‘Tired.’

Sister Catherine said, ‘Sore throat? Cough?’

Anne said, ‘No. I don’t have that.’ She referred to Léonie and the others. She hoped she wouldn’t get it, either. She was gentle with Léonie. Felt so guilty about pushing her off the bed she encouraged Léonie to stay where she was in their normal bed and helped her finish as much soup as she could. When she got up to get dressed, she made sure Léonie was comfortable before she wrapped the still-attached chain around her arm and went downstairs, out of the building and across the garden. Felt lightheaded.

In the cool stone of the public building, she stood undecided, about to enter the Mother’s office, where she could barely make out faint talking therein. Leaned her head against the door and could hear the Mother. And Marie Therese. If that woman was there, Anne would prefer to wait outside until the Mother was alone.

Inside the room the Mother said, ‘It’s a good offer.’

Marie Therese muttered. Anne had to press her ear against the keyhole to hear her next words. ‘None of them leave before they’re ten.’

The rest of this tantalising conversation dissolved into incoherent muttering because Anne became aware of the proximity of the tall man beside her. He looked down at her and smiled. He didn’t say a word but made her feel guilty just by the awareness in his eyes. He looked the question to her as he raised his hand to tap on the wood.

Anne nodded. She was ready.

Maynard knocked firmly on the door.

‘Enter,’ said the Mother.

Maynard gave Anne a little bow and gently pushed her forward, following close behind, ‘Good afternoon, Mother. It seems you have two visitors at the same time. You have room for us both?’

The Mother looked up and smiled as she nodded at Maynard. She looked at Anne, with little humour in her gaze, and then turned her attention to the lay nun, ‘Thank you, Marie Therese. Your advice has been invaluable.’

Marie Therese had no option but to bow and say, ‘Thank you, Mother.’ But before she left the room, she looked hard at Anne, bent down, and grabbed her by the chin. ‘Stop wearing boys’ clothes. Or flogging.’

Anne found it hard to remain looking into the black of the tertiary’s eyes but with the wiry woman holding her chin hard there was no-where else she could look. She closed her eyes.

‘Look at me.’

Anne reluctantly opened her eyes again. Her chin hurt and Marie Therese’s face was far too close. ‘Hear me?’

‘Yes, Marie Therese.’

‘Thank you, Marie Therese,’ said the Mother. ‘I’m sure Anne understands.’

Marie Therese dropped Anne’s chin, pushing her backwards as she did so, pushing her into Maynard who helped her regain her balance. The sister left the room and did not close the door.

The Mother looked to Maynard and indicated the entry, ‘Could you, please?’

Maynard obliged, firmly shutting the thick wooden door, and returned.

‘Mijnheer Lauryn, if we could turn to the interesting subject of apprenticeships, please? I wish to talk to you about Claude and Pierre. What have you thought of them so far? Are either suitable for the work?’

Maynard sighed and took a moment to gather his thoughts. ‘Both are thoughtful and ingenious. Both have sufficient mathematical skills. Claude, perhaps, has more creativity. He takes time to consider possibilities but then again, Pierre has a stronger frame for heavier lifting. And Pierre is better at cleaning up afterwards.’

‘So, you think both could be of use?’

‘Mother, right now I am not able to take two boys. I have my father, sister, and niece at home already. There are days when food is scarce, especially when I’m away. Those two will soon be eating like wild boar! It might be possible to take one … ’

‘Oh, no!’ Anne could not help herself from crying out, ‘They could not bear it.’

‘Thank you, Anne. Sit down, there, in the corner. Your turn will come.’

Anne did as requested. The Mother was serious indeed. Anne felt chastened anew. She couldn’t help the tears rising in her eyes. Just one rolled slowly down her face and she scrubbed it away.

‘Thank you, Maynard. I suspected as much,’ the Mother continued. ‘Which has given rise to a suggestion for you … As the boys are not yet ten years old, I’d like you to consider the idea that they live here but work with you during the day. We will offer shelter and clothing and, of course, religious instruction. We would feed them breakfast and supper. I’d expect you to provide their midday meal and educate them for their future trade. They’d sleep here. What say you?’

‘That could work.’ Maynard looked around the room but saw nought. He rubbed his hand over his beard. ‘Occasions may arise whereby I might need to take one, or even two, overnight to a distant job.’

‘We’d consider those on a case-by-case basis.’

‘And, when they’re ten?’

‘We’ll talk again. Will that suffice?’

‘I believe so.’

‘I am pleased to hear it. Now. The second matter for discussion is Anne. She was found in possession of these.’ The Mother reached into her pocket and placed the three crumpled documents in front of Maynard.

He reached out a tentative finger and examined the pictures. He looked up at Anne in surprise. Then looked back to the papers.

The Mother looked to him intently. ‘What do you know of them?’

‘Nothing, Mother, other than they be … Protestant. I’ve not seen these before.’

‘They were popular some years ago, during the troubles, when I was a girl. Praise God, we live in more tolerant times. She says she found them in the library when you moved the bookshelf.’

‘That may well be so, Mother, I didn’t see behind it. There was much to do that day.’

‘So be it. Will you lend me your shoulder and we shall examine the site?’

Anne could hardly believe her ears. Was it possible the Mother believed her?

The Mother rose awkwardly to her feet and held her hand out for the man to assist her balance. Once the large woman felt secure, she beckoned to Anne who rose to join their small procession as they made their way through the room, out into the corridor and round to the garden side. Anne thought she caught a glimpse of brown fustian swirl as they rounded the corner but then, who knows who might have just been passing? It did not necessarily mean anyone had been listening at the door. As the little group marched on towards the religious nuns’ building, Anne was certain she knew who had been listening. The only remaining question was, why?

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