The Wise Woman Read online

  'She was a witch,' Alys said with revulsion. 'She was a dirty old witch. Anyone could tell you apart.'

  Mother Hildebrande smiled. 'She was an old woman with more learning than was safe for her,' she said. 'And so am I. She was a woman wise beyond her station, and so am I. She must have been a woman who by chance or choice was an outlaw, and so am I. I shall live here, in hiding, at peace with my soul, until the times change and I can again worship God in the Church of His choosing.'

  She smiled at Alys as if it were a life that anyone would prefer, that a wise woman would envy. 'And what of you?' she asked gently. 'I have mourned you and prayed for your immortal soul every night of my life since I last saw you. And now I have you back again! Surely God is good. What of you, Sister Ann? How did you escape the fire?'

  'I woke when the fire started,' Alys lied rapidly. 'And I was running to the chapel to ring the bell when they caught me. They took me into the woods to rape me, but I managed to get away. I went far away, all the way to Newcastle searching for another nunnery, so that I could keep my vows; but it was unsafe everywhere. When I came back to look for you or any of the sisters, Lord Hugh at the castle heard of me and employed me as his clerk.'

  Mother Hildebrande's face was stern. 'Has he ordered you to take the oath to deny your Church and your faith?' she asked. Her hands were still palsied and her face was that of a frail old woman. But her voice was strong and certain.

  'Oh no!' Alys exclaimed. 'No! Lord Hugh believes in the old ways. He has sheltered me from that.' 'And have you kept your vows?' the old woman asked. She glanced at Alys' rich gown, the red gown of Meg the whore who died of the pox.

  'Oh yes,' Alys said quickly. She turned her pale heart-shaped face upwards to Mother Hildebrande. 'I keep the hours of prayer in silence, in my own mind. I may not pray aloud of course, nor can I choose what I wear. But I fast when I should and I own nothing of my own. I have been touched by no man. I am ready to show you my obedience. All my major vows are unbroken.'

  Mother Hildebrande cupped her hand around Alys' cheek. 'Well done,' she said softly. 'We have had a hard and weary trial, you and I, daughter. I have thought often that it was easier for the others, those who died that night and are in paradise today, than for me trying to hold to my vows and struggling with a world which grows more wicked every day. And it must have been so hard for you,' Mother Hildebrande said gently. 'Thank God we are together now. And we need never be apart again.'

  Alys hid her face in Mother Hildebrande's lap. The old woman rested her hand on Alys' bright head.

  'Such lovely hair,' she said gently. 'I had forgotten, Sister Ann, that you were so fair.' Alys smiled up at her.

  ‘I have not seen your hair since your girlhood,' Mother Hildebrande remembered. 'When you first came to me, out of the world of sin, with your bright curly hair and your pale, beautiful face.' She paused. 'You must beware of the sin of vanity,' she said gently. 'Now you are thrust out into the world in your womanhood. Now that you wear a red gown, Sister Ann, and with your hair worn loose.'

  'They make me dress like this,' Alys said swiftly. 'I have no other clothes. And I thought it right not to endanger Lord Hugh, who protects me, by insisting on a dark gown.'

  Mother Hildebrande shook her head, unconvinced. 'Very well,' she said. 'You have had to make compromises. But now we can make our own lives again. Here, in this little cottage, we will start. We will make a new nunnery here. Just the two of us for now, but perhaps there will be more later on. You and I will keep our vows and lead the life that is appointed to us. We shall be a little light in the darkness of the moorland. We will be a little light for the world.'

  'Here?' Alys said, bemused. 'Here?' Mother Hildebrande laughed her old laugh, full of joy. 'Why not?' she said. 'Did you think that serving Our Lady was all rich vestments and silver and candles, Sister Ann? You know better than that! Our Lady was a simple woman, She probably lived in a home no better than this! Her son was a carpenter. Why should we want more than Her?'

  Alys felt she was gaping. She tried to gather her thoughts together. 'But, Mother Hildebrande,' she said, 'we cannot live here. In summer it is well enough but in winter it is dreadfully hard. We have no money, we have no food. And people will talk about us and then the soldiers will come…'

  Mother Hildebrande was smiling. 'God will provide, Sister Ann,' she said gently. 'I have prayed and prayed for you, and I have prayed and prayed to live once more under the rules of our Order, and now, see, my prayers are answered.'

  Alys shook her head. 'They are not answered,' she said desperately. 'This is not the answer to your prayers. I know what it is like here! It is dirty and cold. The garden grows nothing fit to eat, in winter the snow banks up to the door. God does not want us to be here!' Mother Hildebrande laughed, her old, confident laugh. 'You seem to be deep in His counsels that you speak so certainly!' she said gently. 'Do not fret so, Sister Ann. Let us take what He gives us. He has given us each other and this roof over our heads. Surely He is good!'

  'No! It's not possible…' Alys urged. 'We must go away. We must go to France or Spain. There is no place for us in England any more. We court disaster if we stay here and try to practise our faith.'

  The old abbess smiled and shook her head. ‘I have sworn to practise my faith here,' she said gently. 'I was commanded to lead an order here, in England. No one ever said that if it became hard I should run away.'

  'We would not be running!' Alys urged. 'We would find another nunnery, they would accept us. We would be obeying our vows, living the life we should lead.'

  The abbess smiled at Alys and shook her head. 'No,' she said softly. 'God gave me thirty years of wealth and comfort, serving Him in luxury. Now He has called me to hardship. How should I refuse Him?'

  'Mother Hildebrande, you cannot live here!' Alys raised her voice in exasperation. 'You know nothing about the life here. You do not understand. You will die here in wintertime. This is folly!'

  There was a moment's shocked silence at Alys' rudeness. Then Mother Hildebrande spoke with gentle finality.

  ‘I believe that this is the will of the Lord,' she said. 'And I am bound by my vows of obedience to do His will.' She paused for a moment. 'As are you,' she said. 'But it's not possible…' Alys muttered mutinously.

  'As are you,' Mother Hildebrande said again more slowly, her voice warning.

  Alys sighed and said nothing.

  There was a silence between the two women. Alys, glancing up from where she knelt at her mother's feet, saw that the abbess' eyes were filled with tears.

  'I…' she started.

  'When can you join me here?' Mother Hildebrande demanded. 'We should start our new life at once. And there are many things we need which you can provide.'

  Alys' moment of penitence was brief. 'I don't know when I can come,' she said distractedly. 'My life at the castle is so uncertain…' She broke off, thinking of Hugo and Catherine, and her own baby growing in her belly. 'I could come next week perhaps,' she said. 'I could come for a few days next week.'

  Mother Hildebrande shook her head. 'That is not enough, Sister Ann,' she said gently. 'You have been away from our holy Order for many months, but before then you lived with us for many years. You cannot have forgotten our discipline so soon. You may go now, but you must come back tomorrow, wearing a plain dark gown and bringing with you whatever Lord Hugh is prepared to give gladly. For the rest, we will grow our own food and weave our own cloth. We will make our own rushlights and write our own books from memory. We will make bread and sell it in the market, we will fish, and sell what we catch. And we will make simple medicines and remedies and sell or give them to people who are in need.' Alys kept her eyes down so Mother Hildebrande could not see her panic and her immediate utter refusal. 'It looks very dark for our Church,' Mother Hildebrande said. 'But this is how it was for Saint Paul himself, or for Saint Cuthbert when the English Church was nearly destroyed before, by the pagans. Then, as now, the Lord called His people to serve Him in darkness and secr