Peaks of Grace (The Colplatschki Chronicles Book 5)

by Alma Boykin

  “Indeed.” Although his excellency will be in for a surprise because most of the land is on loan from the deSarm family which is alive and growing. And from the guilds, which continue to function. “His excellency seems to have out of date information concerning the valley’s population as well,” Odile noted. “I believe we are up to eight thousand, in Sarmvale, the Hall, the farms and crofts, plus the grazing families.”

  Geraldina wrote. “Yes, your reverence, that’s the latest number. Which brings us to twenty sisters, enough for a house in a settled area. We need even more because of the mines and rough weather in winter, the floods in spring,” she began enumerating the hardships.

  Odile interrupted. “That is correct, and sufficient, Sister. I am also curious why, if his majesty is so generous with new endowments, the church should need to give him church funds in order to support those endowments.” If they were missions, yes, but not houses in a settled and stable kingdom. And all houses are supposed to have enough reserves to get us through a bad year or two before we need to beg a loan from the bishops’ council.

  “My guess would be that he’s buying Phillip off, buying protection perhaps? If Louvat or Sarm go to war with Frankonia, will Phillip leave the convents and churches untouched provided he gets a portion of our endowments? Godown forbid, and I am thinking very much worst case,” Sr. Martina added hastily.

  A sick feeling settled in the pit of Odile’s stomach. Godown forefend, but that sounds right. And if there is no house here, and Phillip does break through and invade, they have that much more to loot. And he has another justification for his actions: that Sarm is out of grace with the church. Holy Godown please may I be seeing shadows out of turn, please gracious Lord. Please may it be my own fears speaking. “Worst case indeed, Sister, and how many rulers have been enjoined that the ‘Book of Battles and Storm’ is not a manual but a caution?”

  All three women sighed.

  “So,” Geraldina said at last, “We have enough people in the valley to justify a convent of this size, we provide a needed service, no one has raised questions about our management of the endowment nor have there been any major disciplinary problems in the past ten years, and we are not within Frankonia’s borders so Phillip’s relocation offer does not apply.” She paused, then added, “If the statement about Frankonia’s borders is not a simple transcription error, of course.”

  “Indeed.” Odile considered the list. “And our donors remain alive and available to answer any questions about our use of their endowments. And the valley is not…” Her voice trailed off as an idea struck her. “Is not prosperous enough to support the churigons and others necessary to fill the place left if the sisters withdraw from the valley.” Could it be that Bishop Paulus thinks the valley is richer than it is, and that the population could support non-religious medical and other personnel? She tucked the idea away to consider at a later time.

  “Lady deSarm sent a copy of her reply to Bishop Paulus’s notification,” Geraldina said, shifting pages and setting the wax board on Odile’s desk, careful not to clatter it.

  Odile raised one eyebrow. “Is it suitable for a cloistered sister’s ears?” Lady deSarm, Godown be with her, could be a bit blunt.

  “Oh yes. It is remarkably diplomatic… for Lady deSarm. Perhaps Master Roy assisted in drafting it,” Geraldina half-asked. Sr. Martina coughed, covering a laugh, Odile suspected.

  “What are her main points?”

  “One, that the convent serves a true need. Two, that no sister has been accused of improper behavior,” Geraldina left “yet” unsaid. “Three, that the donors’ annual inspection of our accounts have revealed no difficulties, nor have the previous bishops discovered problems. Four, that Sarm lies outside Frankonia and King Phillip’s desires should have no bearing on church business unless the two are in direct cooperation or conflict.” Geraldina gulped, “ah, and five, that the deSarm donations are valid and that Lady deSarm’s marriage is as well. She’s not so diplomatic about the last point, your reverence.”

  Odile’s sour stomach churned as hard as a butter maker. If Phillip Leblanc intended to buy off the church into declaring Sarm without legitimate heirs, and implying that Marguerite deSarm and Edmund Roy lived outside the graces of the church, he had a strong case for claiming the valley under the guise of protecting it. Although Odile had yet to understand just what threatened the deSarm lands, since the Freistaadter could not organize anything more ambitious than a saint’s day procession. Forgive my lack of charity, Godown, she begged, please may I be wrong, please.

  The knitting click accelerated, a sign of Sr. Martina’s thoughts on the matter. “I believe, your reverence, this is a very good opportunity to ask the donors and others to inspect our records, to make a list of how we have aided Godown’s work and where we have fallen short. And perhaps offering a copy of the Diligence and marriage certification for Lady deSarm and her husband, along with the numbers of births, anointings, and deaths to show the actual population, should his excellency have received incorrect information?”

  “No to the last, although we should have the information on hand,” Odile thought aloud. “I am… I will pray over the matter, but, may Godown forgive me for unfounded suspicions, I am reluctant to send material to his excellency that might, Godown forbid, be acquired by King Phillip and possibly misinterpreted.”

  “There have been reports of problems with letters being mis-delivered,” Geraldina agreed. “People make mistakes, for only Godown is perfect.”

  “Quite so, Sister,” Martina replied. “And now is a good time for the donors to visit, since the spring trading season is not yet underway but most planting is done.”

  “And the flocks are still here, and the high mines have not reopened yet,” Odile added. “I will draft a letter to his excellency, then see about contacting our donors. I believe tomorrow evening the convent council needs to meet in special session. And additional prayers for discernment and guidance are never amiss.”

  Odile spent most of that night on her knees in the chapel, praying for Phillip of Frankonia, Bishop Paulus, Lady deSarm, and for all of them to rightly understand Godown’s will. St. Kiara, whose flame guides those who seek the spiritual light, add your prayers to ours. Blessed Kiara, who helps those in need of guidance, add your prayers to ours. Bright Kiara, who sought and found the light of Godown’s wisdom, add your prayers to ours, she recited silently, counting off the beads. Then she meditated on the Writ, trying to keep her heart and mind open to all possibilities so she could see Godown’s will more clearly. By the sounding of the waking chime, she thought she’d found what she sought. Perhaps. Holy Godown, source of all right knowledge, help me not mistake my will for Yours. Then she got to her feet, bowed in the direction of Godown’s symbol over the altar, and took her place, ready to assist with dawn worship.

  The community council meeting that evening proved to be educational. The wisest sisters, supervisors of the house’s different paths of service, gathered around a table in the dining commons. Odile invoked Godown’s guidance and wisdom, and then sat back to listen. Sr. Sabina, the churigon, presented the gathered sisters with the number of patients treated, medicines and medicinal supplies distributed, and the costs and donations account for the infirmary and nursing sisters. Sr. Amalthea, fully recovered from her injuries of half a decade before and now in charge of the orphan school, read out the last ten years of admissions, adoptions, and those who left with dowries. Only two of the orphans, both older girls at the time of their losses, had joined the sisters. Odile nodded to herself: that was as it should be. A false calling could be worse than no calling because of the pain it inflicted on the woman and on the community around her. Sr. Martina provided the farm accounts, including the labor the sisters provided and the food assistance they gave out in times of need. The number was lower than Odile liked, and if the rustles and murmurs told truth, some of the other sisters agreed with her. But they had to feed themselves first. If they could not do that, they could n
ot help anyone else. Godown had not created His clergy to live off of others without working. Finally, Sr. Alice Misha read out the latest balances from the house’s ledgers. “In sum, sisters, we are not rich, but we have a reserve should the crops fail, or a flood strike, or there be another need outside our own,” she concluded.

  “Godown has blessed us with wise leadership as well as generous donors,” Sr. Sabina observed.

  “Selah,” the others chorused, including Odile, who made St. Alice’s spindle.

  Several minutes of silence followed the news as the senior sisters considered what they had heard and learned, Odile among them. Finally Sr. Martina spoke. “While I do not wish to mistake Godown’s will for my own, I do not see grounds for dissolving St. Gerald-Under-the-Mountain. And I do not understand how permanently removing half our endowments will assist our mission.”

  Sr. Geraldina concurred. “We pay Lady deSarm five percent, just as all other valley residents do, but we gain far more than that in the family’s donations and protection. How diverting our funds will assist our mission, I also fail to understand.”

  “To your knowledge, are there any houses, aside from those affected by glitterwings, that are in hardship?” Odile asked.

  None of the others could think of one. “I have no correspondence that suggests hardship,” Sr. Geraldina reported.

  “Perhaps, and I hesitate to mention the possibility,” Sr. Amalthea began, “perhaps Bishop Paulus, being new to his duties, has allowed himself to be… over impressed by Phillip Leblanc’s arguments.”

  Godown knows I would be, Odile thought. She should not be reverend mother, not as young and inexperienced as she was, but the others had voted forty-six to two in her favor, after her name came forth in the selection lottery.

  “It is a possibility,” Sr. Sabina agreed. “We easily forget that temporal and spiritual leaders are men and women just as we all are.”

  Especially if that temporal leader has a knife and an army and is willing to use both, Odile shivered. After another long period of quiet thought, she began, “It appears that the wisest course for St. Gerald-Under-the-Mountain is to gather information so that, if indeed his excellency has been misinformed, he may see the correct numbers. And for us to prepare to provide him with hospitality, should he decide to visit.” She leaned forward, “And to consider expanding our works, even as we pray for grace and guidance that Godown’s will might be done truly and with quiet hearts. Perhaps this is a gentle correction, that we have become comfortable in our ways and have overlooked a need.”

  “Indeed, your reverence,” Alice Misha said. The oldest of the sisters still active, she rustled and laid her beads on the table, rolling them as she spoke. “It is better to heed gentle words than to wait for a firm rebuke. Does not the Writ say, ‘Take up my yoke upon you, for my burden is easy and my yoke is light for those who hear and obey My voice’?”

  Odile bowed her head, accepting the caution.

  After the next holy day, she, Sr. Alice Misha, and Sr. Geraldine met with the heads of the guilds and Edmund Roy. “My wife sends her apologies,” he explained, his sword hangar and belt knife banging a little against the chair’s side. “Her morning sickness is stronger than before, and Mistress Barbiere recommended she not leave the Hall until she recovers her strength.”

  Several of the other men gulped and Odile worked hard to keep from smiling at their discomfort. No, she would not want to meet an angry, queasy Lady deSarm either. “We will pray for her renewed health and for your child,” Odile assured him. And that she doesn’t toss anyone off the castle wall. Odile had a brief, improper, and irreverent vision of Lady deSarm giving Bishop Paulus both her breakfast and a piece of her mind. Forgive me, Godown.

  “Thank you. Your prayers are most appreciated.” He sounded just a touch desperate and Odile bit the tip of her tongue to keep from smiling.

  “I apologize for taking you from your work,” Odile began, expression serene, voice steady and calm. “However, as the major donors and holders of our endowment, it is appropriate for you to know about Bishop Paulus’s plans for St. Gerald-Under-the-Mountain.”

  “Paulus?” The squeaky voice had to be Master Sylván, the head of the miners.

  “Yes. His excellency Bishop Martín went to Godown’s rest this past winter, and the episcopal council assigned Paulus as administrator and spiritual director for Frankonia and the adjoining counties.” Odile paused to let the men process the news.

  “Godown grant him rest,” one of the men said.

  “Selah. His successor, Bishop Paulus, seeks to reorganize the Sisters of Service so that we,” she made a hand gesture to indicate all sisters, “make the best use of the resources Godown, through our donors, have given us. This includes closing those houses which are too small or duplicate each other, including St. Gerald-Under-the-Mountain.”

  “What?” said a voice she did not recognize. “He wants to close St. Gerald’s? Where will we find nurses and churigons? And who will take in those children we cannot, or provide for the old who have no families?”

  Edmund Roy saved her from asking. “I believe, Mr. Malkey, that those are precisely the reasons why Reverend Mother Odile has asked us to come today.”

  “Indeed, Master Roy, Mr. Malkey.” Odile lifted her hand off the stack of ledger books on the table beside her. “It is the desire of the community that you, the donors who support this house and its works, go through our records and see where we are wasting funds and resources, if anywhere, and if you have suggestions for how we can better serve as Godown’s hands in the Sarm valley.” She patted the books. “I need to inform you that should the house close, half the donations, the oldest, will return to the donors or their estates, while the other half goes in part to the church and in part to Phillip of Frankonia for his assistance in relocating us to new houses within Frankonia’s borders. Should no heirs or donors be found to receive the funds, that half will also be divided between the church and King Phillip.”

  “That’s horse s—mrrrff,” someone blurted, their words abruptly muffled by a firm hand.

  Odile raised her hand to forestall anything she did not need to hear. “It is possible that his excellency has received incorrect information about the state of affairs in the Sarm valley, which is another reason we desire you to go through our records and confirm our numbers.”

  “It is quite probable that his excellency has, as you say, received incorrect information,” Edmund Roy said. “He has also stated that he believes Lady deSarm and my marriage to be invalid, although he has not explained precisely what problem he is aware of that we are not.” He kept tight control on his words, Odile noticed, but she could hear the strain beneath them.

  Several of the men made unhappy sounds. Odile stood. “I leave you with Sr. Alice Misha, our accounts keeper, and Sr. Geraldine, my secretary. Please ask them about anything in the records that is unclear. Food will be available in the dining commons at the second chime, should you need refreshment. May Godown guide you.” She walked out of the room, weaving between the extra chairs and table squeezed into the guest parlor. She’d memorized their positions earlier, so she wouldn’t crash into anyone or anything. I do hope Bishop Paulus does not want us to reorganize the interior of the house, she sighed, fingering her beads as she walked to the laundry to take her turn at the folding tables. I had barked shins and sore elbows for a month after the last time.

  Seven weeks later, just after the feast of St. Alice, Bishop Paulus arrived at the western gate. The correspondence between the sisters and his excellency had grown, not heated, but perhaps more strained than Odile Kiara would have hoped for. Paulus seemed unwilling or unable to accept the sisters’ information in good faith, making it difficult for Odile and the others to keep their doubts and suspicions at bay. Now Odile listened to the bustle of preparation outside her office and shrugged a little. She’d done all that she could do. It rested in Godown’s hands. Assuming that Paulus had not arrived with King Phillip and an army, in which
case may Godown have mercy on all of them.

  A light hand tapped on the door. “Yes?”

  “Your pardon, your reverence, but a messenger from the Hall has arrived. Master Roy will escort his excellency to us. He will speak for Lady deSarm. It seems the lady…” Sister Basilia leaned into the doorway and said in a very quiet voice. “She lost the child yesterday and is in mourning and seclusion.”

  “St. Foy and St. Misha be with her and may Godown give her heart ease,” Odile murmured.

  “Selah,” Basilia agreed. “Already there are rumors that distress over his excellency’s non-acceptance of her marriage caused her to lose the child.”

  All the more reason for her to stay in the Hall, lest she violate the rules of hospitality and this house. She didn’t think Lady deSarm would do or say anything rash, but then again…

  Bishop Paulus arrived late that afternoon. Reverend Mother Odile Kiara waited inside the guest parlor to meet him, rather than in the courtyard: horses and mules still did not care for her. “This way, your excellency,” she heard Sr. Timothé’s sweet, quiet voice saying, giving her time to get to her feet.

  Odile heard a man’s rapid steps, then a loud sniff. She bowed. “Welcome to St. Gerald-Under-the-Mountain.”

  “Have you changed the name?”

  She straightened up and blinked, off-guard. “No, your excellency. It has always had that name.”

  “Humpf. That’s not what his majesty’s records show.” He stopped, waiting. “Well?”

  “I’m sorry, your excellency, is there a problem?”

  “Are you not going to touch my ring of office?”

  Odile realized the problem. “Your pardon, your excellency. I cannot see it. I am blind.”

  “What?” Incredulity and anger both filled his voice. “Then what are you doing as the prioress? Are there no sisters more qualified? The prioress must be familiar with the Writ and commentaries, as well as participating in the work of the house.”