A Place of Light by Kim Silveira Wolterbeek

Author:Kim Silveira Wolterbeek
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction
Publisher: Cuidono Press
Published: 2015-09-30T00:00:00+00:00

Late in Madeleine’s pregnancy, Mother Hersend sought her out in the garden to discuss the “miracle of birth.” The widow of Lord Guillaume de Montsoreau, Hersend de Champagne had been among the noble women who had donated to the Abbey in the difficult early months. Not long after, she had taken orders following her husband’s death. A non-judgmental, kind-hearted woman, she was tiny, barely five feet tall, with deep dimples and a rollicking laugh better suited to a milkmaid than a learned woman of authority. Even before she began speaking, Madeleine could see why Robert had appointed her Abbess. Something in her delicate but assertive manner simultaneously soothed and challenged. Hersend called out Madeleine’s name just as she finished weeding a row of lima beans.

“Madeleine, you’ve worked wonders! And in such short time!”

“It’s nothing,” Madeleine said, blushing. “Gardening is my passion.”

“When the Lord marries passion to need,” Hersend said, “wonders may transpire. We’ll have altar flowers and vegetables well into winter!”

“Brother Moriuht has been most helpful.”

“I must remember to thank him,” Hersend said. After a pause, she assumed a more purposeful tone. “You know, there are similarities between what you are doing here,” she said, lifting her hand to take in the whole of the garden, “and here,” she said, taking a step closer to Madeleine and touching her fingertips to the thrust of her belly. “Both germinate from seed and depend on warmth, fertile soil, and the goodness and grace of Our Lord to come into fruition.” She examined Madeleine’s face with a maternal scrutiny, and Madeleine wondered if Robert had prompted the abbess to speak with her. “Of course,” Hersend said, “there are differences as well. The growth of a child is much more complicated. After the seed of the child is planted, it develops in stages.”

Madeleine leaned on her hoe, eyes locked with Hersend’s as she listened.

“At first, the child is like a vegetable feeding and growing…”

Madeleine thought of the lazy expansion of heavy orange pumpkins and plump red tomatoes.

A sudden breeze ruffled Hersend’s habit. She spread her small hands (hardly bigger than a child’s!) against her thighs, holding the robe in place until the gentle wind settled.

“And then?” Madeleine asked.

“Next it assumes the characteristics of an animal—feeling, moving, full of fledgling desire,” Hersend said, rolling her tiny hands, one over the other.

The wild tumbling motion reminded Madeleine of Brother Benoît’s young hound, whose devotion made his unbridled energy bearable.

“Finally,” Hersend said, smiling a beatific smile and looking upward, “it acquires a rational mind and takes on human form.” Her voice was turquoise, full of comfort and hope. “Only then does God endow the child with an immortal soul.”

These last words struck Madeleine with pain, like deadly nightshade spreading its wild branches and sprouting poisonous berries deep inside her belly. She thought of Evraud, a soulless devil if ever there was one.

“You are thinking of the child’s father,” Hersend said, reaching out to smooth Madeleine’s brow. “It might help you to think of the man’s mother instead,” she said, softly.

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