Lilies for Love (7 page)

Then, by a stroke of fate, of ill-luck for Sister Anne and the best of luck for Janna, the infirmarian sliced her finger open one morning while sawing at a tough root. The finger became infected, the infection spread and Sister Anne was suffering real discomfort and disability by the time she came to speak in chapter.

'I am unable to care properly for my patients,' she said, and held up her bandaged hand for all to see. 'I need help in the infirmary. An added burden at this time is our annual fair to celebrate the life of our patron saint, St Edith. As you know, it is the custom for our abbey to sell our goods at the fair, including our own special salves and medicaments. While I have sufficient for our own needs, I need help to prepare an extra supply for sale.' She looked about the assembled convent, and her gaze rested thoughtfully on Janna. 'It has come to my notice that we have a new lay sister who is skilled in the use of herbs and knows well their healing properties. I crave the abbey's indulgence for my weakness, and ask that Sister Johanna may be given permission to live within the convent for a time. She could sleep in the infirmary and help me look after those who are sick, while also helping me prepare for the fair.'

All eyes swivelled to Janna. It took a moment or two for her to comprehend what she was being offered, and then her heart swelled with joy at the opportunity being handed to her. Yet, from the abbess, there was silence. Janna's heart shrivelled small once more. She couldn't bear it if, having been offered such a chance to put her plans into action, permission was now denied.

'Our new lay sister's mother was the
wortwyf
, Eadgyth,' the abbess said then. There was a collective indrawing of breath. Many of the nuns remembered that a Mass had been said for her soul – and for the soul of her daughter. Janna watched eyes grow round with wonder as they surveyed her. She wondered how many of her secrets the abbess would divulge and chafed under the knowledge that she was powerless to stop her from speaking.

'It became known to me that Mistress Eadgyth did not always follow the teaching of our Lord, Jesus Christ – but I am told she was a skilful healer. Has she taught you all she knows, Sister Johanna?'

Unsure how to answer, Janna was silent. Part of her mother's trouble with the church came from the help she had sometimes given to those women who, for compelling reasons, begged her to provoke their courses and prevent a baby coming to term. If she said yes, the abbess would know Janna possessed such knowledge, and might forbid her to live within the convent on those grounds alone. If she said no, the abbess would think her unskilled and, again, deny her. She cast a glance of mute appeal at Sister Anne.

'I see modesty prevents Sister Johanna from answering your question, Mother,' the infirmarian said smoothly. 'However, I have questioned her and also answered her questions, and I am sure that she knows enough to be of great help to me, and that she has the sort of lively and enquiring mind that will enable me to teach her anything she yet needs to know.'

Janna let out a silent breath of relief and smiled at the infirmarian. She was filled with exultation: to use the knowledge her mother had taught her, to have the freedom of the garden and, best of all, to have time with the infirmarian to learn to read and write – it seemed all her prayers had been answered at once. Excited, she turned to Agnes to share her good fortune, and saw the brief flare of jealousy and disappointment on her friend's face. Janna's exhilaration died as quickly as it had been born. She'd got what she wanted – but it had come at a price.

'We'll still be able to see each other,' she whispered, as soon as everyone's attention had moved elsewhere and it was safe to talk.

'Of course we will.' Agnes was making a huge effort to look happy, to be glad for Janna. 'But I shall miss you,' she added honestly.

'I'll miss you too.' Janna brightened. 'If I told Sister Anne how much you already know, maybe she can ask for you to come and help us in the infirmary?' She read the answer in Agnes's smile, which flashed bright as the sun after a storm cloud has passed. 'I'll do my best, anyway,' Janna whispered.

'The new lay sister is
talking
in chapter.' A familiar voice came from behind them. The abbess pretended she hadn't heard, but her frown encompassed Janna and Agnes as well as Sister Martha.

As soon as chapter was over, Sister Anne beckoned Janna to her side. It was a real wrench for Janna to watch Agnes go and stand with the other lay sisters and wait to be told their orders for the day by Sister Grace. She'd never felt so close to anyone before. Now she suddenly realised just how much she'd lost as Agnes waggled her fingers behind her back to say farewell. It made Janna all the more determined to speak out on Agnes's behalf.

'Go and fetch your belongings from the lay sisters' dorter,' Sister Anne instructed. 'I'll wait for you here and then take you to the infirmary.'

'Yes, Sister. And thank you.' Janna looked at the elderly nun. 'I won't let you down, I promise.'

'I know that.' Sister Anne's eyes twinkled. 'Even confined as we are within the abbey walls, I had heard of your mother's skill from some of the villagers; heard too that her daughter had inherited her gift. While we won't have cause to use
all
of your mother's remedies here, I believe there is much we can teach each other.' Janna winced as she understood the nun's meaning, but she couldn't help feeling flattered when the nun continued, 'I've had my eye on you for a little while, child.'

'Do you need more than one pair of hands to help you, Sister? I've been teaching Sister Agnes about herbs and their healing properties. She is very keen to learn.' Janna spoke up quickly, anxious to fulfil her promise.

Sister Anne nodded thoughtfully. 'I will bear that in mind, but I've already been granted a boon in gaining your help and I can't ask for any more at present. Let's just see how we get on for the moment, shall we?'

Satisfied she'd done her best, and eager to get started, Janna turned and began to run towards the lay sisters' dorter. Her heavy habit constricted her movements. Recollecting where she was, she slowed at once to a hasty, but decorous, walk. Her heart sang with excitement. She was about to learn to live as she believed her mother had once lived, in a community of nuns. She would have the opportunity to question them all, just in case Eadgyth had spoken to any of them at any time about her past. Best of all, she might have the chance to learn to read and write. The secrets of her father's letter to her mother were at last within her grasp.

The first of Janna's disappointments came after dinner in the refectory. She'd washed her hands in one of the basins in the lavatorium, then filed in along with the other nuns, half-excited, half-fearful as she contemplated the tasks that lay ahead. She'd been placed beside the door, understanding she was among the lowest of the low as she looked up at the high table at the furthest end of the room where the abbess was seated under a great cross, flanked by several obedientiaries. She was about to start eating when the abbess's voice stayed her hand. Janna bowed her head and waited impatiently for grace to be said. She helped herself from a platter of vegetables and began to eat, picking up the food from her trencher of bread with her fingers. Almost at once she was interrupted by a novice on her right, who gave her a light tap on the arm to gain her attention. Janna looked at the novice's hand weaving through the air as if through water. Unsure what she was meant to do, she frowned in bewilderment. The novice repeated the action. Janna shrugged. Finally, with a smothered 'tsk' of impatience, the novice reached across and grabbed hold of a platter of mackerel. She placed it in front of her, and swam her hand through the air once more, then pointed at the fish. Janna nodded. It was all very confusing.

The novice helped herself to some fish and Janna took some too. It was delicious, but she hardly had time to take more than a few mouthfuls before the young oblate on her left began shaking her hand, holding three fingers together. Again Janna frowned, and finally the oblate reached across and took hold of a heavy salt cellar. Janna watched how sparingly she helped herself to the precious substance. When she set the salt cellar down, Janna took some for herself, keen to try what had always been too costly for her mother to afford. She dipped a portion of fish into the white crystals and tasted it, enjoying the extra piquancy and flavour. Bemused, she watched the silent pantomime continue as the nuns signed to each other their needs and passed dishes accordingly. She was beginning to understand how seriously the community took the Rule of Silence and how much she would miss Agnes's irreverent whispering.

Worse was to come. One of the nuns walked up to the lectern. Janna had the impression that she came reluctantly, for her footsteps slowed as she came closer. Her face was downcast so that she looked only at her feet and not where she was going. Consequently, she tripped and almost fell as she encountered the steps that led up to the lectern. Instinctively, she clutched the book she carried closer to her chest, much as a mother might hold a child after a safe rescue. She climbed the stairs and carefully opened the book.

'H-h-h-hence . . . Hence th-the L-Lord s-says . . . in the . . . the G-Gospel, "Who . . . whoever l-listens . . ."'

Janna looked down at the trencher of bread in front of her, no longer able to watch. She couldn't bear to hear the tortured sounds, and tried to close her ears to them, and her mind to the nun's humiliation. She'd read the shame and desperation in the nun's eyes as her mouth strained to utter whole words and managed only the smallest part of them.

She remembered the nun. It was Sister Ursel, owner of the mouse called Chester. She wondered if the mouse was keeping company with the nun up at the lectern, and risked a glance upwards.

'"I . . . will l-liken him to a w-w-wise m . . . m . . ."' Janna stuffed a piece of fish in her mouth and chewed vigorously, anything to take her mind off what was happening. The other nuns seemed unconcerned, were obviously quite used to this appalling travesty of speech. They waggled or shook their fingers, stroked their wrists and noses, or their stomach, squeezed their ear lobes and knocked their index fingers together. Janna watched, and tried to make sense of it all.

The meal, and the reading, progressed. Janna couldn't wait to leave the refectory, and restrained herself with impatience while the abbess recited a last prayer before they were all free to go.

She went at once to the infirmary, and found Sister Anne awaiting her there. The nun had already introduced her to the patients, one with severe toothache and another with a stomachache, plus several ancient nuns who were now permanent residents in the infirmary, being too crippled or infirm to manage the stairs to the dorter or attend services in the church through the day and night.

'Here's a soothing balm,' the infirmarian told Janna. 'I'd like you to give Sister Angelica's back a good rub, for it troubles her greatly.'

Janna looked at the greasy substance. She took a deep breath, knowing she must speak the truth for the infirmarian would find out soon enough. 'I . . . my task was to make up the salves and decoctions. It was my mother who always ministered to the sick.' Try as she would, Janna could not keep an old resentment from souring her voice. She had begged Eadgyth to give her more responsibility, but her mother had always refused, saying that there would be time enough for that later. But later had never come, and Janna was well aware of the vast gap in her experience that would have stood her in such good stead now.

'Did your mother teach you about the humours of the body, how they comprise blood, phlegm, red and black bile? Did she tell you what to do if the humours are not in balance?' Sister Anne queried.

'No, she did not,' Janna admitted. She'd believed her mother had known everything, was startled to find that was not so.

'She did not tell you that the body may be warm and dry, warm and moist, cold and dry or cold and moist?'

Mute with shame, Janna shook her head.

'Did she mention the body's relationship to the four elements: earth, air, fire and water?'

'No.' Janna's confidence had evaporated. She felt extremely stupid.

'The art of healing does not rest only on knowing about herbs and their properties. Our knowledge is based also on medical practice passed down to us by the ancient Greeks, Romans and Persians.'

'Oh.' Janna waited, in distress, for Sister Anne to banish her from the infirmary now that she had learned the full extent of her ignorance.

'Your mother was known to be a skilled healer, and knowledgeable in the leechcraft practised by the Saxons,' Sister Anne observed, adding kindly, 'It could be that she was aware of the gaps in her knowledge, and feared them, and that was why she took upon herself the responsibilities of her healing practice and would not share them with you – lest you took the blame for her lack of understanding should something go wrong.'

Janna was silent. Sister Anne's words made sense. They certainly helped to explain Eadgyth's continued resistance to Janna's pleas. The last shreds of her resentment towards her mother slipped away.

'I feel sure there is much you can teach me, Johanna, for I know little of leechcraft but you obviously watched your mother carefully and learned from her all that you could.'

'Yes, Sister, I did.' Janna's hopes began to rise once more.

'Then massage Sister Angelica's back. I shall watch what you do, and instruct you as you go.' Sister Anne gave a wry smile. 'Besides, I have no choice in the matter,' she said, and held up her bandaged hand.

Janna helped the ancient nun disrobe and picked up the pot of ointment, thrilled to be given the opportunity she had always longed for.

She wondered if conversation was allowed during treatment, and decided to risk it. Her quest was too urgent for delay. 'May I speak, Sister Anne?'

The nun nodded. 'Talking is allowed in the infirmary, although I don't encourage idle chatter,' she added severely. 'What do you wish to know?'

'I am most grateful for your trust in me, Sister Anne.' Janna thought it best to flatter the old nun before asking for a favour. 'You'll find me a willing worker and a keen student, for I wish to know everything I may about healing the sick. Everything!'