The Rebel Nun by Marj Charlier

Author:Marj Charlier
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2020-12-31T17:38:57+00:00

Twenty

I joined my sisters in the basilica with at least one small victory: the concession of Gregory that we could remain in Tours for a few months and make our journey back to Poitiers once the fall arrived and the air had cooled enough to accommodate our safe passage. As certain as Gregory was that our sins were more important than our mission, he did not want to bear the blame for the death of any number of thirty sisters from the monastery of Radegund.

“You will be assured of food and shelter here,” I announced to the weary sisters scattered on the floor of the nave of the basilica. “And I will carry our plea to my Uncle Guntram, as soon as I can arrange for a conveyance.”

“Did Gregory listen to you? Did he say he would help us?” Basina knew the answer before she asked, but others, she recognized, did not.

“He listened, but he did not hear,” I said. I allowed my disappointment to show on my face. It was better that the sisters realized we risked being abandoned by the very church and religion to which we had pledged our lives than to be misled about certain victory. “I fear that only King Guntram’s intervention will force the archbishop’s hand.”

A couple of sisters moaned and lay back down on the floor.

“Maybe we should not have—” Greta started, but she did not need to finish her thought. I saw a few nods, but I was relieved to see more nuns shake their heads at her suggestion.

“No.” Covina spoke up. “This was necessary.” She came to stand beside me. “Besides, our three days of discomfort on the road was but a trifling compared with the suffering of our Savior. Let’s not forget that He never promised our paths would be lined with rose petals, or that our journeys as Christians would be easy. Remember the true martyrs: Polycarp, burned at the stake, or Saint Agnes, martyred by the Romans while still a young virgin. Our sacrifice is much smaller than the eye of a needle or the head of a pin.”

I smiled. I knew Covina’s reference to the eye of a needle was from the admonition of Jesus, that it would be easier for a camel to pass through one than for a rich man to enter heaven. I tried to remember the reason one counted the number of angels that danced on the head of a pin, but I was too tired. I felt my legs falter with fatigue, and, trying not to show my weakness, I leaned on my hands against the prayer rail at my knees.

“Let us say our Vespers prayers and get our rest,” I said with my eyes closed. I felt Covina’s strong arms guide me to sit, and her strong voice led our pilgrimage into the Psalm of the Hour.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.