Chapter Six - Unfurling

The rasp of the key in the lock came while it was still dark. Marie Therese opened the door. ‘Clean before Prime.’

Anne scrambled to her feet, ‘Thank you, Marie Therese.’

She went out chastened and freezing, her head down, but too slow for the nun who lashed out as she went, hitting the back of her head. ‘No more town in boys’ clothing.’

‘Yes, Marie Therese.’ Anne ran to the laundry. Already she was making plans. As soon as prayers were finished and as soon as the orphans had finished their porridge - served to them in colourful ceramic bowls donated by one of the nobles - she intended to rush to the laundry to change into her breeches. What that nun did not know would not hurt her. She would meet Maynard by the hollow tree. She would learn how to protect herself in battle. She was so hungry there was no way she was missing out on porridge. Two helpings if she could get them. Maybe even more.

He was already there. No pleasantries. It was a hard lesson. At first, he asked how often she found herself in a fight - too often - and then showed her a defensive stance with her legs apart and slightly bent with the front foot pointing forward and the back foot out to the side. He explained she needed to be able to move sideways, forwards, and backwards fast. He told her to put her strong arm in front. He told her to be alert to her surroundings and prioritise where the greatest threat might arise first. He was serious and she obeyed his instructions without debate.

Then he brought a thin parcel from behind the tree. He put aside the fabric that covered it and showed her he’d made her a wooden sword. It was only short, but it was a practice sword such as the lads in the convent played with, even Claude.

Anne looked at the slender cross with adoration. She held it by the handle and raised the point to the sky. No-one had given her such a gift before. She looked up at Maynard knowing him to be the most generous man she’d ever met. ‘Thank you. In return,’ she said, ‘I’ll do all that I can to help you, Mijnheer Lauryn.’

He laughed and said, ‘You may call me Maynard, Anne de Breuil.’

He showed her a small ball he’d shaped with a willow weave. It was tied by a long cord from a branch. He showed her how to step forwards and backwards, using her arm for balance, to lunge the sword toward the ball. She could barely contact it at all. He showed her how to feint, to pretend she was to strike and then lunge from the other direction.

When he saw she was tired he asked, ‘What did she say?’

Anne looked up at him, ‘She didn’t say no.’

His face relaxed, ‘Will I see you at Saint Scholastique?’

‘Yes. But … ’ She thought of Marie Therese, ‘Sometimes I have obstacles.’

‘Let’s hope there’re no obstacles today.’ He gestured farewell and left her.

Imagining it to be her main obstacle, she eyed the little willow ball with hatred.

And stabbed it.

On the eighth hour, Anne dressed properly to wait for him at the gate. Maynard appeared pleased to see her but not demonstrative. He looked wary, on guard, as he carried his travelling tool case to where she stood. She unlocked the outer gate and showed him in past the second. She said to the porter nun, ‘Don’t worry, Magdalene, I’ll take him in.’

‘That’s my job, Anne!’ Magdalene followed them into the corridor.

‘The Mother won’t worry, Magdalene.’

‘Let me see for myself, Anne de Breuil. Why can’t you stay where you’re supposed to, I don’t know … ’

They came to Mother Prioress’s office and tapped on the door. When they went in, Anne introduced him.

Magdalene shrugged at the Mother who nodded her acknowledgment before the porter nun left her room.

Maynard looked at the wooden panelling around the main room and the embossed leather wall coverings in the office proper. They were patterned with gold in a glorious pattern of the fleur-de-Lys, and provided a warm glow.

The Mother Prioress smiled at Maynard, ‘I see you’ve found your local angel.’ She turned to Anne, ‘I didn’t know you were acquainted with Mijnheer Lauryn, Anne?’

Anne felt the Mother’s affability as sweet as honey.

It seemed Maynard, too, felt welcome. ‘Please call me Maynard, Mother.’

‘Anne? Could you please bring Claude and Pierre to the dayroom?’ The Mother stood as she indicated the door. ‘We’ll meet there. Now, young man, may I request your assistance?’ As Anne left, she could see the Mother bringing Maynard into line, so she could lean on him.

Uncertain where the boys would be, she decided to begin her search in the kitchen. Both lads were often to be found ‘helping’ so they could get an extra plum or bread roll for their trouble. Sure enough, that’s where they were. They were reluctant to be called to duty for Louisa was just about to take a tray of appelflappen from the oven. Very reluctant. To the extent that Anne was able to assume her recently learned fighting stance and give Claude a tap on the chest for practice. Claude hardly cried at all. He and Pierre followed her in bad humour, past the dovecote and across the garden.

The day room was in the nun’s building and none of the children were supposed to have anything to do with it. But there were no secrets in the priory for orphans. The day room was also called the calefactory because there was usually a fire there but today was warm and sunny and the ashes had been left to cool so one of the servant nuns could clean the grate. They met the Mother and Maynard making their slow way inside. The Mother was pointing out the structure to the journeyman. Even months after the fire, the building still smelled of sour smoke.

‘It’s one step up to the study,’ the Mother pointed to the stone step. ‘And through there is the library. Ah, Anne, you found them.’

Maynard seriously shook hands with the two small boys. Anne decided he liked them and, even better, they appeared to like him.

‘Good,’ said the Mother. ‘We’ll go up to the library now.’

All five walked through the small study, with its standing desk next to the window, up to the library. There was the scorched gap in the floor above. Maynard stood appraising it. As he looked up, Anne had the strange idea the very fires of hell had burned this floor. She turned her attention back to the Mother.

The Mother said, ‘Here, the formal stairs from the library to the nuns’ cells must be rebuilt. The nuns took them down and then cleaned the area over the last few weeks.’ The Mother indicated the empty bookshelves ranged along the walls. ‘All the books were removed to the church. The large study, as we know it, the scriptorium, is up by the cells. We get better light upstairs.’

The Mother explained their way of life to Maynard as they went. ‘Any person can use our books.’ Here she turned to look at the trio of youngsters, ‘So long as they’re allowed in the nuns’ domain, of course. The Rules of Saint Benedict encourage reading for all and, under guidance of a nun, these three may read what they like. Within reach.’

Maynard said nothing, Anne watched him listening, apparently taking everything in.

The Mother continued, ‘Beyond here is the Chapter House. It’s next to the choir in the church although not accessible through the Chapter Hall. You must exit to go around into the vestry which leads into the choir. There’s a set of curved steps from the vestry up to the nuns’ cells. This gives easy access to the nuns for night prayers. This is how you’ll have to approach the top floor until the new staircase is ready. Anne will show you.’

‘Inconvenient.’ He stood under the space where the staircase was destined to go and studied the room.

‘Quite.’

Maynard placed his travelling bag on the bare floor. He rolled his sleeves back and stared around him. ‘Mother, do you need those shelves to be there?’

‘We’d still like to be able to use them.’

‘Yes, of course. I’d put those to that side, under where the first staircase was.’

‘What are you imagining for our panels, young man?’

‘I’m taken with the idea of the Assumption, although perhaps the Pentecost is regarded as more Biblical?’

The Mother smiled, ‘The Assumption is good idea for a staircase.’

‘Before I saw this space, I had thought to carve the Assumption up one side of the staircase and the Annunciation down the other, but I see now it’d be better to make things simple. We need no landing, and the stairs can go straight up beside the wall, leaving just one side for the carved panelling.’

The Mother, surrounded by her three orphans, watched Maynard’s arm describe the shape of the project he had in mind.

Anne saw the Mother calculate how he had tried to keep her expenditure down. ‘I like the way you think, young man.’

‘The middle panel would be the cupboard door. With your permission, Mother?’ He indicated the three youngsters. The Mother nodded and Maynard began to arrange them where the steps would go. ‘I see Pierre as a cherub, perhaps … ‘

Here Claude and Anne sniggered, and even the Mother smiled a little.

‘And Claude, you stand there … I’d have Jesus and another angel here on the middle panel and here I’d have the Virgin, above them all,’ and he pointed to where Anne should stand closest to the tall part of the staircase.

The Mother nodded as she viewed this three-dimensional display.

‘I beg your pardon, Mother Prioress,’ Maynard asked, ‘I wonder if I may make some sketches based on the play?’

‘You may illustrate whatever you like.’

‘I mean from life. I need to have the same scene before me. From the performance.’

‘You would like our cast to recreate yesterday’s tableau vivant?’

Maynard nodded.

Anne was ready to add encouragement should he need it, but he didn’t look in her direction.

The Mother took her time to consider. ‘I can’t see any harm in our Virgin Mary’s Coronation being viewed through the grille in the public parlour. Let’s suppose you take the morning to calculate your measurements and the afternoon to make your sketches. Would that suffice?’

Maynard inclined his head with the merest hint of agreement.

‘After None and before Vespers I’ll endeavour to bring the Assumption back to life for your consideration,’ said the Mother. ‘Around the same time as we arranged this afternoon?’

‘I can do preliminary measurements today if these fine assistants work with me.’

‘Good. I’ll take Pierre with me now as my helpmeet and return him to you in good strength.’

‘Thank you, Mother.’

The Mother took a firm hold of Pierre’s shoulder, and they moved down the step and out of the building.

‘No time like the present,’ Maynard looked at Anne. ‘Show me the way.’

As they proceeded outside, Maynard stopped, went back to his travelling case, opened it, and extracted a large coil of rope. ‘Can you wait at the bottom here?’ Maynard showed Claude the rope. ‘I’m going to drop this down to you.’ Claude nodded.

Anne showed Maynard outside, up to the church vestibule stairs, through the long corridor of the nuns’ cells, through the scriptorium to gain the upper space where the stairs would connect to the day room below. Anne was surprised Maynard looked neither left nor right but kept walking to the place where the staircase was required.

He looked down to check Claude was there, tied one end of the rope to a hook handily twisted into a beam across the ceiling and dropped the length of hemp through the space. When Claude shouted out, Maynard marked the place where the rope was flush with the upstairs floor with string and then sent the rest tumbling down.

Claude began to collect the rope and pile it up like a snake.

While Maynard was at the top, he tested the wood around the opening and discovered two or three planks too burned to be truly safe. ‘Our first job tomorrow.’

Anne showed him back down through the long corridor, down the curved steps to the vestry and back through the day room and into the library once more. Maynard kept his eyes open but said nothing. Anne wondered if he was looking for Jeanette, but he kept silent.

On their return to the flagstones of the library floor, Maynard was impressed by Claude’s neat coil of rope, ‘Thank you.’

‘What do we have to do?’

‘We calculate the height of the total rise. We measure the rope.’

Claude unwound the rope, to reveal the contrasting string mark, and laid it along the floor, perpendicular to the wall.

As Maynard measured the rope he asked, ‘What do you think is next? Think in terms of shape.’

Claude stared at the rope then looked up at Maynard. ‘This is one side of a right-angled triangle.’

‘Good. The others?’

‘Here and here,’ said Claude indicating the wall and the invisible line of the stairs.

‘What know you of mathematics?’

‘Sister Beatrix told us about Meno and Socrates … ‘

‘Can you calculate the number?’ The journeyman offered Claude a piece of charcoal and indicated the floor. ‘The rise is near enough to twelve feet. Each step will be seven inches tall. I’ll come back tomorrow and see your answer.’

‘I know not how.’

Maynard shrugged, ‘Try.’

Claude stared at the charcoal marks on the floor. Pierre came to squat beside him.

Maynard turned to Anne. ‘You’d best show me the way to leave.’

Anne led Maynard out through the garden to the gate. ‘Can I practice with you tomorrow morning?’

‘You can work by yourself. You have plenty to practice.’

Anne agreed. She would practice until her legs were sore.

After Vespers, Anne slipped into line beside Jeanette as they entered the cloister heading to the refectory. ‘What do you think?’

‘We can’t talk now,’ Jeanette shook her head, ‘Wait ‘til we’ve eaten.’

Anne takes her sister’s hand, ‘You’ll play the Virgin.’

‘There are things you don’t know.’

But before Anne could ask, ‘What things?’ Jeanette swept aside to the garden, and Anne presumed, up to the dormitories. She weighed running after her big sister but decided it was more important to eat her supper. Jeanette would tell her later. Jeanette always told her everything. At least, Anne had always thought so before. Was it likely there were things she didn’t know about? What could she not know?

Anne made as little noise as possible as she moved along the corridor. When she came to the Prioress’s office she slowed down. How interesting to find the door ajar … She could hear Sister Beatrix’s voice, ‘You know we must be careful of—'

‘We’re always careful.’

‘—letting a man into the convent, Mother.’

‘We’ve been enclosed too long. I remember when it was no fuss, people coming and going. We lived in a community, perfectly safe then—'

‘Times have changed.’

‘Did you calculate the tithe for the Abbey?’

‘Yes, Mother. You’ll be satisfied. Look here. Plenty of profit to buy that farm above Hoplin-Lez-Seclin.’

‘We’re blessed—’

Anne felt a shove as Marie Therese caught Anne up from behind and pushed her way into the Prioress’s office without knocking. ‘Look! Spy!’

The Mother and Beatrix looked up from their papers and accounting books. The Mother sighed when she saw what Marie Therese had brought in.

‘Anne.’

‘Remember Agnes! Cecilia, Lucy, Agatha!’ Marie Therese had just begun. ‘Virgins! Suffering! Women must protect their bodies! Invasion!’

‘I assume, Marie Therese,’ said the Mother, ‘You’ve been informed that an artist will sketch the Assumption scene on the morrow?’

Marie Therese held Anne’s arm up as though she were a specimen to be examined with revulsion. ‘They must learn, they cannot trust men.’

‘Marie Therese. I’ve already given permission.’

‘How so? What will they do? Sit in idleness. Devil’s work.’

Speaking without thought, Anne said, ‘We needn’t be idle. We could sew. Claude and Pierre are helping …’ She drifted off when she realised the tertiary nun would only take offence at anything she said. She berated herself mentally. When would she learn to keep quiet?

Marie Therese snarled, ‘Boys. Different.’

‘I must admit to some misgivings about Jeanette.’ The Mother turned to Sister Beatrix, ‘Especially as she is about to profess.’

Sister Beatrix said, ‘Do we know how long the young people need to be in heaven?’

The Mother looked at Anne.

Anne said, ‘Maynard doesn’t waste time.’

‘Indeed,’ said the Mother, ‘That was my impression.’

Sister Beatrix grinned at the Mother before asking, ‘Has anyone asked Jeanette about this?’

Anne watched Marie Therese shake her head, ‘She will say no.’

The Mother glanced at Anne, silencing her, before she looked at the tertiary nun carefully. Then she said, ‘I think Jeanette is capable of modelling for our artist for him to create the impression of our Assumption. Marie Therese, we’ll be living with this expensive sculpture for the rest of our lives. Shall we give it the chance of being bearable?’

Anne thought this a good argument. She wasn’t sure if Jeanette would agree.

She could see Marie Therese most certainly did not. And where Marie Therese was concerned, Anne felt it was only a matter of time before that tertiary nun discovered new ways to make trouble in their lives.