Winds of Time (The After Cilmeri Series) by Woodbury Sarah

Author:Woodbury, Sarah [Woodbury, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: The Morgan-Stanwood Publishing Group
Published: 2012-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

The next morning, I saw Prioress Edyth in passing, and in church, but she didn’t summon me and I tried to achieve patience. It wasn’t as if I had a lot of free time. Bright and early, I found the nun hospitalier at my door, asking which service to the nunnery I would like to perform: weeding the garden, baking, or laundry. At first I was shocked by her request, but I assumed Edyth had ordered this, wanting me to get my hands dirty. I opted for the garden and the nun sent me to the herbalist who found a worn habit for me to wear and put me to work. I spent the day between the rows of plants.

It was enjoyable to garden in the summer sun, and I began to feel almost grateful to Edyth for giving me something to do. I was useful and satisfied—that is, until I woke up the next morning so stiff and sore I could barely move. I managed to haul myself out of bed anyway, and back onto my hands and knees.

After three more days of this, I was sent to the laundry. This was a job worth hating. The clothes were heavy and the water icy cold, even in August. Just as I thought I couldn’t take any more, I was sent to the bakery. After three days kneading dough, it dawned on me that there was more to this than punishment for lying. Nearly two weeks had passed since my dinner with the Prioress, with no word from her, and it occurred to me that this must be some kind of test.

With that thought in mind, I waylaid her, as politely as I could, after services that evening.

“Prioress Edyth.” I curtseyed. “Might I have a moment of your time?”

She stopped, stifled a sigh, and turned to me. “Are you finding your days with us worthwhile, Mistress Margaret? We do not work you too hard?”

“Madam.” I was making an effort to disguise my impatience, but it was pretty feeble and I undoubtedly failed completely. “I was hoping that you have had word from your half-brother regarding my passage to Wales?”

“Come to me after dinner,” Edyth said, instead of answering my question. “I can see that you have not found the contentment here I hoped for and you intend to continue with your previously stated course of action. We have enjoyed your good bread.”

She swept away, leaving me thunderstruck. I couldn’t believe it. Good bread, indeed.

In truth, it was my pride that was most hurt. I had believed, in the first hours of my walk along Hadrian’s Wall, that I could control my destiny. Yes, I was a woman, but I was educated and intelligent, and had struggled and survived on my own with two children in the twenty-first century. Surely this counted for something? Surely what I’d learned in the last sixteen years and who I was now would make a difference? I was appalled to realize, several weeks later, that it had made no difference at all.

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