The Greenest Branch: A Novel of Germany's First Female Physician (Hildegard of Bingen Book 1) by P.K. Adams

Author:P.K. Adams [Adams, P.K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Iron Knight Press
Published: 2018-06-18T04:00:00+00:00

16

December 1120

I began to write differently: I was more thorough, checked everything twice, and made sure my Latin was as correct as it could be. Something that had been buried in the back of my mind since I was three and became lost in my family’s chapel started resurfacing in my daily thoughts.

My recurring headaches had started on that distant afternoon, but now I began to suspect that it was no ordinary illness. For, as it weakened my body, it made my mind sharper and more receptive to understanding. I still did not know what it was that had happened to me all those years ago, but I felt that I was getting closer. So I kept writing in secret from everyone except Volmar.

Then the day of my novitiate vows came.

Under the terms of my enclosure, I could become a novice only after my sixteenth birthday, which fell in October. Traditionally, the abbey held this ceremony the day after Christmas. Throughout the autumn, I had made an effort to immerse myself in the study of the Bible, but, outside of the hour I spent with Jutta each day, I had little time for it between working, attending services, and scribbling on parchment scraps whenever I thought no one saw me. So when I walked into the church on a snowy day of St. Stephanus, I was less clear on the finer points of the Holy Writ than on the best remedies for a tooth abscess or the ways to lance a boil while minimizing the pain.

Abbot Kuno, dressed in white priestly vestments woven through with golden thread, led the procession of the black-robed monks into the church. With the rest of the soon-to-be novices, I was seated in the front pew and could see melting snowflakes twinkle in the candlelight like tiny jewels on the brothers’ cowls. Behind the abbot, Prior Helenger marched in a plain robe, the expression on his face the same glum primness from my oblate blessing five years before.

As always, the Mass thrilled me with every soaring note of chant and every swing of the censer that discharged bursts of aromatic incense. I wondered if Volmar felt the same way, but his face was solemn and inscrutable. Perhaps he was worried that the novitiate would put an end to his secret hunting pastimes, as it is the Church’s view that no man can be holy who hunts. I was so engrossed in my own sensations and in thoughts of Volmar that I completely forgot about another friend, and only noticed her as I stepped down from the altar after receiving my blessing. Griselda stood in the shadows in the back of the church, observing me with admiration and a bit of envy, just as she had the day of our first encounter on the road to St. Disibod.

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