Lilies for Love

by Felicity Pulman

  'So?' Janna wondered why Agnes sounded so excited. Pilgrims often lodged at the abbey. They may have travelled from as far away as Spain, but pilgrims often made long journeys to important shrines.

  'They come from Oxeneford, and that is where they are going now,' Agnes said breathlessly.

  'So?' Janna was still at a loss to understand.

  'So, I heard them say they plan to seek food and shelter at Ambresberie Abbey on their way home.'

  'Ah.'

  'You could travel with them,' Agnes pressed on. 'It would keep you safe if you had company, especially the company of pilgrims. There are women as well as men among them, so you won't need to defend your honour.'

  'Defend my honour against pilgrims? Surely not!'

  'Never forget that they are men first, pilgrims second.'

  Janna was amused by Agnes's cynicism, until she remembered that the girl had grown up in the abbey and must have observed the antics of countless pilgrims in her time. She should remember Agnes's remark, for it might well stand her in good stead for her travels in the future, she thought. 'When do they leave?' she asked.

  'Today, after they've attended Mass and visited the saint's relic one last time. You'll have to hurry to speak to them before they go.' Agnes clutched Janna's hand, suddenly aware of her impending loss. 'I shall miss you so much,' she said. 'The abbey won't be the same without you.'

  'You might not be here for much longer yourself.' Janna hoped, with all her heart, that her words were true.

  'I'm afraid. I'm so afraid.'

  'Have courage. If he doesn't come, you are no worse off than if you'd never taken action at all. But at least, now, you have the chance to find out what might be, or you'll know for sure what might have been.' Janna wasn't sure if she was being much comfort to Agnes. Beside her, Agnes tensed, and held a finger to her mouth in warning.

  Someone was walking down the nave. They could hear the click of boots on stone. They glanced at each other. Agnes's grip on the lily tightened. There was the sound of a key turning in a lock, a faint creak, then the low murmur of voices.

  'I'll make sure I lock the gate behind me when I leave, Sister.' A man's figure came into view, silhouetted dark against the bright sunlight slanting through the window to the east. Janna squinted at the figure, almost sure it was Will. Beside her, Agnes took a frightened breath.

  The man stepped into the small chapel. His face was lit now in the soft light from the candles around the saint's shrine, and they could see his features clearly. It was Will. In his hand, he carried a single lily. His eyes widened when he noticed he was not alone. He stopped abruptly. His gaze settled on Agnes's face. He smiled, and held out the lily to her.

  Frozen with terror, Agnes stayed where she was. Will's smile slipped a little. Janna stuck out her elbow and gave Agnes a hard shove, propelling her forward. With a small cry, she catapulted towards Will, who opened his arms to her and enfolded her tight.

  Janna held her breath as she watched them, watched Agnes cling to the bailiff, shaking with fear; watched him patting her shoulder, gentling her as he would a nervous palfrey. 'I came to ask our blessed saint to intercede on my behalf, to speak to you when I could not,' he murmured.

  Agnes was still for a moment. Then she raised her face to gaze at him. 'I heard you,' she said, and held out the lily.

  Keeping one arm around her, Will took the lily from her. He placed the two flowers on the reliquary, muttering a brief prayer of thanks as he did so. He turned back to Agnes. With gentle fingers, he stroked the rough scars that criss-crossed her cheek. Agnes closed her eyes and stood quiet under his touch.

  Knowing it was safe to go, knowing Agnes no longer needed her, Janna silently crept away, walking on tiptoes so as not to disturb the pair or remind them of her presence.

  She carried on her person all that she meant to take away with her from the abbey, but she still had no answer for the clothes she might wear on the journey. A moment's reflection sent her scurrying to the refectory, where the sisters were still assembled to break their fast. She waited until they had finished, then approached Sister Grace with her request.

  'I'm leaving the abbey today, and I must return my wimple and habit before I go, but I have naught else to wear. Can you help me, please, Sister?'

  Sister Grace's mouth twitched. 'Do you wish to go forth as a youth once more, or are you planning another disguise?' she asked gravely.

  'No!' Janna thought about it. 'Yes.' Even in the company of pilgrims she would be safer travelling as a youth than a girl, she decided.

  The nun looked at her thoughtfully. 'Your smock and breeches are gone. The wardrober gave them to the cowherd's eldest son. But there's a nice new gown that would fit you. It belonged to one of our young postulants who has decided she wishes to take the veil.'

  A nice new gown! Janna liked the sound of that. 'If you can spare it, I would be grateful, Sister Grace,' she said humbly.

  'Then come with me now.' Sister Grace turned and, without ado, led the way from the refectory to the storeroom where Janna had first met her. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Reluctant to waste a costly kirtle on a lowly lay sister, the wardrober argued with Sister Grace, trying instead to persuade her to take a ragged robe that had been left behind by the family of a dying woman. Neither realised that Janna could understand Norman French and, once she realised what was happening, she was too embarrassed to enlighten them. But she was grateful to Sister Grace, who would not take the ragged garment from the wardrober but, instead, snatched up the beautiful blue kirtle and refused to give it back. 'She deserves it,' Sister Grace insisted. 'I heard she came here with a full purse, and our abbess took every last coin from her. At the very least, we can give her this.'

  'Thank you. It's beautiful.' It was all Janna could say without betraying her secret, but Sister Grace gave a pleased nod, satisfied with her successful transaction. Even the wardrober gave Janna a grudging smile as she took the wimple and habit in exchange.

  'You may also take the matching slippers,' she said, adding in French, ''Tis true she has worked hard while here. Sister Anne says she has her mother's skill with healing, and has given our convent the best of care.' Janna ducked her head to hide her pleasure.

  Her transformation was completed in a few moments. She smoothed her hand down the silky blue fabric of her gown and smiled, well content. She had never worn anything so fine in her life. Her smile grew broader as she reached up to secure the fine gauzy veil that completed the ensemble. Her hair, grown long again, fell loose around her neck. She longed for a mirror to see what she looked like, elated to think she was no longer bound by the Sin of Pride.

  'You look quite the young lady now.' Sister Grace answered her unspoken question. 'For certes a lot more attractive than the ragged ruffian I first encountered!'

  Janna laughed. 'Thank you, Sister. Thank you for your kindness.'

  'And thank you for your kindness, Johanna,' the nun replied. Seeing Janna's surprise, she continued, 'I have watched your progress here with great interest. I have seen how lovingly you have cared for our sisters here. We shall miss you, you know.'

  'As I shall miss you.' Janna reached out and gave her an impulsive hug, remembering too late that close physical contact with another sister was a sin. She tried to pull back. 'I'm sorry,' she apologised.

  But Grace was laughing as she returned Janna's hug. 'Don't worry,' she whispered. 'The Rule no longer applies to you, not if you're leaving us.'

  The Rule. Janna felt the burden of sins, both real and imaginary, slip from her shoulders. She felt light and free – and also vulnerable. The abbey had been her home for almost a year. There was so much she would miss.

  Her interview with the abbess was brief. Remembering her previous lost opportunity and determined not to waste this last one, Janna asked Abbess Hawise for information about her mother.

  'She was a disgrace to her convent; that is all I know.' The abbess's lips pursed tight with disapproval. Janna was sure she hadn't
forgotten the scene with Dame Alice. Probably the abbess's condemnation of her mother now applied equally to Janna herself. She knew she would get nothing further from the abbess, nor would she miss her in the least.

  It was a lot harder to say goodbye to Sister Ursel and to Sister Anne.

  'Promise you'll come and visit us, if ever you pass this way again?' Ursel demanded, and Janna promised that she would. There were tears in her eyes and fear in her heart as she crossed the cloister for the last time, and walked through the outer parlour to the courtyard beyond. She would stay for Mass and speak afterwards to the pilgrims, she decided. There was no time to do it now, for the Mass was about to start.

  She walked into the nave, mingling once more with the abbey's guests, the lay servants, the beggars and pilgrims, just as she had done when first she came. Ahead of her, she spied Agnes and hurried towards her friend. The lay sister was standing beside Will, their hands touching but not clasped, as befitted the solemnity of this sacred place. Neither of them held lilies now; St Edith's task was done and her deed had been honoured and commemorated.

  Janna smiled as she sidled into place on her friend's other side. Agnes glanced quickly at her, and then away.

  'Agnes!' Janna was wounded by her friend's indifference.

  Agnes's head swivelled around. Her eyes widened in shocked recognition. 'Jesu, it's you!' She looked Janna up and down. 'Why are you wearing those clothes?' she gasped.

  'Because I'm leaving today, with the pilgrims? Because I'm not a lay sister any longer?'

  Agnes's face fell. Janna grasped her hand. 'I can't stay, you know that. But neither can you?' It was a question, rather than a statement. Janna hoped she knew the answer, and felt a great relief when Agnes nodded shyly.

  'Will's asked me to be his wife, and I have agreed to it,' she whispered. 'We will go to see the abbess after Mass, to see if my childhood vows may be broken and to ask what needs to be done.'

  'Good luck to you both.' Janna looked from Agnes to Will. 'I wish you great happiness in your life together,' she said softly, and sank to her knees as the procession passed up the nave. She breathed in the spicy incense that scented the air as the young acolyte swung his censer, taking comfort from the sturdy stone walls of the great church and a ritual that dated back almost to the time of Christ. So had it always been; so would it be long after she was gone. It made her realise that, while her quest was important to her, it was the smallest dot in the fabric of God's great plan.

  Janna smiled to herself. God didn't need her help to run the world, but he would surely expect her to do what she might to help herself.

  Her way had been made clear to her, and she would follow it. She would find her father and, at the same time, fulfil her vow to avenge the death of her mother by bringing the culprit to justice. She had made a good start. She resolved that she would do all in her power to make a good finish. She bent her head and joined in with the congregation as the priest began to pray.

  GLOSSARY

  'caught red-handed': literally with blood on your hands

  aelfshot: a belief that illness or a sudden pain (like rheumatism, arthritis or a 'stitch' in the side) was caused by elves who shot humans or livestock with darts

  ague: fever and chills

  alewife: ale was a common drink in the middle ages. Housewives brewed their own for domestic use, while alewives brewed the ale served in alehouses and taverns. A bush tied to a pole was the recognised symbol of an alehouse, at a time when most of the population could not read.

  amercement: a financial penalty imposed on those found guilty of a crime

  apothecary: someone who prepares and sells medicines, and perhaps also spices and rare goods

  bailiff: appointed by the abbess (or a baron) to manage the home farm, mills, etc

  baron: a noble of high rank, a tenant-in-chief who holds his lands from the king

  boon work: at busy times in the farming year (eg haymaking and harvest) villeins were required to work every day in the lord's fields. In return, they were given food and ale.

  breeches: trousers held up by a cord running through the hem at the waist

  canonical hours: the medieval day was governed by sunrise and sunset, divided into seven canonical hours. Times of prayer were marked by bells rung in abbeys and monasteries beginning with Matins at midnight, followed by Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext and Nones through the day. Vespers was at sunset, followed by Compline before going to bed.

  cellaress: responsible for everything to do with food and supplies for the cellar, refectory, kitchen, mill, bakehouse, and also the gardens, woods and farm produce

  chantress: responsible for the choir, for books, and for teaching singing and reading

  chapman: a pedlar

  cot: small cottage

  cottar: a medieval villein (serf) who occupied a cottage and a small piece of land on his lord's demesne, in return for his labour

  cresset: a primitive light made from a wick floating in a bowl of oil or animal fat

  demesne: manors/land owned by a feudal lord for his own use

  Domesday Book: commissioned by William I after he conquered England in 1066, the book is a meticulous reckoning (for taxation purposes) of who owned what in England, from manors, mills and land holdings down to slaves, pigs and ploughs

  dorter: dormitory

  dower: a sum of money paid for a woman, either as a marriage settlement or to secure her place in an abbey

  farthing: one quarter of a penny

  feudal system: a political, social and economic system based on the relationship of lord to vassal, in which land was held on condition of homage and service. Following the Norman conquest, William I distributed land once owned by Saxon 'ealdormen' (chief men) to his own barons, who in turn distributed land and manors to subtenants in return for fees, knight service and, in the case of the villeins, work in the fields. The Abbess of Wiltune held an entire barony from the king and owed the service of five knights in return.

  forest law: from William the Conqueror's time, royal forests were the preserve of kings and the 'vert' (living wood) and the 'venison' (the creatures of the forest) were protected. The laws caused great hardship to the peasants who needed timber for building and kindling, while hunger tempted many to go poaching – but they faced punishment, and sometimes even death if 'caught red-handed'.

  hagiography: writing on the life of a saint

  hayward: official in charge of haymaking and harvest, and the repair and upkeep of hedges and ditches

  heriot: a death duty to the lord of the manor, usually the best beast, and sometimes also some household goods such as metal objects or uncut cloth. This constituted 'payment' for the loss of a worker.

  hue and cry: with no practising police force other than a town sergeant to enforce the law, anyone discovering a crime was expected to 'raise a hue and cry' – shouting aloud to alert the community to the fact that a crime had been committed, after which all those within earshot must commence the pursuit of the criminal

  infirmarian: takes care of the sick in the infirmary (abbey hospital)

  kirtle: long dress worn over a short tunic

  lavatorium: washroom

  leechcraft: a system of healing practised during the time of the Anglo-Saxons, which included the use of herbs, plants, medicines, magical incantations and spells, charms and precious stones

  marketmede: literally 'market meadow'

  misericord: a room in the infirmary where strict dietary rules do not apply

  mortuary: death duty paid by a villein to the parish priest: usually the second best beast

  motte and bailey castle: earth mound with wooden or stone keep (tower) on top, plus an enclosure or courtyard, all of it surrounded and protected by a ditch and palisade (fence)

  nostrums: medicines

  novice: after about a year serving as a postulant, and if your vocation remains firm, you become a novice until such time as you are deemed ready to take your final vows

  obedientiar
y: holder of an office (such as cellaress or chantress) under an abbot or abbess in a monastery or convent

  oblate: a young child given to a monastery or abbey by its parents

  portress: nun responsible for admitting visitors to the abbey

  posset: a hot drink with curative properties

  postulant: anyone who enters the abbey with the intention of becoming a nun

  pottage: a vegetable soup or stew

  pyx: a container for the consecrated bread at Mass

  reeve: the reeve was usually appointed by the villagers, and was responsible for the management of the manor. Shire reeves (sheriffs) were appointed by the king to administer law and justice in the shires (counties).

  refectory: dining room

  reredorter: lavatory

  Rule of St Benedict: St Benedict lived circa 480–547 AD, and composed his Regula Monachorum (Rule for Monasteries) in 515 AD. This became the common Rule for all western monachism, directing monks to live in religious houses, observe all the usual religious exercises and employ themselves in manual labour, teaching, copying manuscripts, etc. Seventy-three 'chapters' of direction make up the Rule.

  rush light: a peeled rush dipped in hot animal fat, which made a primitive 'candle'

  sacristan: looks after the sacred relics and treasures of the abbey

  scapular: a loose, sleeveless tunic for rough work

  scrip: a small bag

  steward: appointed by a baron (or the abbess) to oversee the estate

  stoup: a basin or font for holy water at the entrance of a church

  strip fields: a system of farming was practised in medieval time, whereby two fields were ploughed and sown for harvest in summer and winter, while a third field lay fallow

  tallage: tax