Meetings in the night

           ‘Sweet Sister,’ the abbess crooned. ‘What could the cloister offer at this late hour?’

            Marlene cringed as her Superior smiled expectantly. ‘Trouble sleeping, Mother. I find the night breeze helps,’ she said serenely.

            ‘Certainly it would help, if there was such a breeze. Now go back to bed Marlene.’

Her eyes followed the girl as she disappeared into the corridor from where I watched. I ran to our room and was in bed by the time Marlene entered. She looked at me, clearly startled. ‘What are you doing awake?’

‘Where have you been?’ I asked, ignoring her question.

She shuffled uncomfortably and got into bed, mumbling something about a breeze.

Marlene did not attempt to leave the room at night again in a long time. I stayed up most nights until I was sure she was asleep. The next day I would find her still in bed or readying herself for the morning prayer. Until, one week, the Mother Superior went down with a cold. I remember she called me to ask that I keep an eye on the wayward child, keep her from wandering. I said I would.

That same night, Marlene did it again. In the small hours of the morning, she slipped from her bed and padded outside. Instead of calling her back, I waited for the door to close behind her and followed.

I caught up when she was crossing the cloister toward the entrance of the convent. I must say I was quite alarmed to see her leaving. Only the abbess had keys to the heavy oaken door, and those where permanently on her person.

I stalked Marlene for a long while, clutching at my robes in the night chill. She stopped at the edge of the fields, where a figure stood waiting. “Young love” I thought at once, a little disappointed. It wasn’t surprising really; since she was a novice the girl hadn’t shown much zeal in her devotion.

I approached in silence to get a better look. The man wore a cowl and greeted Marlene in a deep voice. That wasn’t right. He seemed to be at least twice her age, and a monk himself. Not that that was unheard of either, but still… I waited.

The pair stood in silence for another long period, apparently waiting for something to happen. Then it did. From the bordering woods, a woman stepped out, long hair whipping about her face. She also looked much older than Marlene, but her clothing betrayed no connection to the faith. When she joined them, the man lowered his hood and began to speak. I strained to hear, but couldn’t make out much. The two women just listened, as if he was lecturing them.

Upon finishing the sermon, Marlene removed her wimple and took both hands to her temples. The others stood, watching, waiting. The nun’s hair burst into flames and a ring of tall fire leapt out of the grass, surrounding them. I screamed, unable to help myself, and ran towards the circle, not understanding. Through the flames I saw that Marlene was unhurt, her hair its usual pearly blond. Together with the man and woman she was trying to stamp out the flames licking at their ankles. She must have seen me too, because she shouted something at her companions above the roaring flare and they turned to look at me.

The monk clasped his hands above him, then his eyes went blank and silence fell upon the field like a blanket. The temperature dropped dramatically and the blaze died out as quickly as it had begun. I ran.

            ‘And this is what you saw?’ the old woman wheezed from her sickbed.

‘Yes Mother, it was definitely as I say,’ I assured her.

            ‘Good, good…’ She grinned crookedly, excitement kindling in her usually placid eyes.

            ‘Excuse me Mother. I don’t understand. How could it possibly be good?’

            ‘The Lord works in mysterious ways Sister, mysterious ways indeed.’ And with that she pulled back the bed covers and swept from the room.

I gathered my habit and jogged after her to the cloister. Several Sisters who were on their way to the dining room stopped to watch. The abbess was dragging Marlene by the arm, screeching quite dramatically: ‘This woman has poisoned our holy community with her sorcery! She attends Sabbaths! She consorts with Satan and his followers! She goes beyond heresy, she is a witch!’

Marlene was struggling against the crone’s grip, but the abbess was unyielding. The girl looked around wildly and her eyes fell upon me. ‘You! You followed me?’ she asked, affronted. Her features contorted into a look of angry disbelief.

‘I… I didn’t… I am…’ my body shook in silent sobs. I turned my back on them and ran to my room, where I hid for a long time. I remember Sister Barbara coming to bring me food at some point. And then, silence. The unbearable silence of an empty room.

I sit on a straight wooden chair. Sister Barbara holds me with one hand and fingers her beads nervously with the other. Her gaze is lost somewhere in the horizon. We sit in the village square, the farthest from the convent I’ve been since the night Marlene escaped. To my left, the Mother Superior looks on triumphantly at the two people tied to the stakes. It sickens me.

‘Sister Marlene and Brother Francis have been found guilty of congregating in covens and dealing in witchcraft,’ a herald reads from the raised platform, ‘the punishment for which is burning at the stakes until dead. May the Lord have mercy upon their souls.’

I am crying again. I turn to look at the abbess. She smiles at me. ‘Why?’ I ask her.

‘Because they have conspired against the Lord, my dear, you know that,’ she says sweetly.

‘No. That’s not it. Why Mother?’ I plead.

She turns her head back to the spectacle. A torch has been taken to the hay and Marlene is straining against her bonds. The man looks defiantly at me. His clothes are in tatters and his face is lined with age. I look back at my Superior with tearful eyes. She is staring at the monk. Raptly. Hungrily. Then I realise: they are looking at each other, not at me.

‘It’s him isn’t it?’ I ask. ‘Brother Francis, it’s him you wanted isn’t it?’

The Mother doesn’t take her eyes of him as she answers. ‘Brother Francis.’ The words roll of her tongue slowly, as if she is savouring them. ‘My own brother… Francis.’ This time she turns to look at me in the face: ‘I knew I’d catch him at it in the end.’

‘You-your brother?’ I stammer. ‘How could you?’ Suddenly I want to get away from her. Merely sitting next to her repulses me.

‘You don’t know what it’s like, having him do things. He was quite accomplished, you know?’ she says bitterly.

Before I have time to answer, Francis starts coughing. Marlene screams and her eyes turn white. Then the square goes silent, I feel cold, and the fire dies out. In an instant, just as it did in the field. The girl’s lips curl into a half smile. She opens her eyes and looks at me. And this time I know it’s me. My chair bursts into flames.

The moments that followed were confusing. I remember Barbara yelling into my ear, and someone pushing me away from the burning wood. My Sisters put me out, but the Mother never took her eyes off the stakes. When I looked back, Marlene and Francis were gone. The abbess screamed her fury, quite deranged, until someone finally calmed her. I think she died within the next months. Now Sister Claire runs the Order.

I have since lived alone in my room at the convent. However, now and again, I visit the singed circle in the field, which has remained singed to this date. I leave Marlene food and ask her forgiveness. I know she is in the woods somewhere, with Francis, and possibly that other woman, and God knows who else. I just hope they will one day forgive me for wronging them so wrongly. And that they may learn to make good use of their gift, and pass on their knowledge. After all, they too are creatures of God. And He does work in mysterious ways.