1310 Scotland

The Priory, Isle of Iona
 

In the darkness of the dormitory, the novices were giggling. Several of the younger lasses slept at the end of the long room, but nearer the large oaken door, the older lasses were clustered around one story-teller.

Davina listened, as wide-eyed with amazement as the others, but keeping one ear on the passageway outside. Dame Maria, the sister in charge of the novitiates had ears like a ferret, and very little escaped her. This outpouring of mirth was strictly against all the rules. Once the last of the candles were snuffed for the night and darkness had fallen over the nunnery, speech was forbidden. The giggling of wayward young lasses would be nothing short of sacrilege where Dame Maria was concerned.

“Hush, lasses,” Davina said, striving to be heard over the giggling. They should be warned. The Dame’s punishments were severe. And where Davina was concerned, downright cruel. She did everything she could to avoid the older woman’s wrath, yet she was frequently singled out unfairly for punishment.

The giggling continued as the lass, new to the Priory, continued her story of the outside world. She regaled the novices with stories of the unsuitable – but, it seemed, very handsome – lad she was besotted with. He had proven to be the reason her outraged father, a nobleman, had brought her to the Priory, to remain there until she came to her senses.

The door swung open and there was an immediate scampering and scrambling as the lasses regained their original places on their hard pallets, feigning sleep.

Davina ducked, holding her breath, hoping the light from Dame Maria’s candle would not fall on her face.

But her hope was in vain. As she was closest to the door, it was only a matter of seconds before the nun was leaning over her, holding the candle to her face as she struggled to keep her eyes closed and her breathing slow and even.

A drop of molten wax from the candle dropped on her ear and her eyes shot open instantly in response.

“Aha.” The sound of the harsh voice brought out immediate goosebumps on Davina’s skin. “I’ve caught ye pretending tae sleep. It was ye, Davina, causing all this noise. Ye’re older than most of these lasses and ye should ken better.” Dame Maria huffed in fury. “Get up at once, I’ve had enough of yer insubordination and yer rebellious ways. I’ll see tae it that ye’ll be severely punished fer this unless ye give me the names of the others who were making this noise.”

The Dame stood, feet apart, looming over Davina, one hand on her waist, the other holding the candle on high.

Davina kept her lips tightly sealed. Infuriating Dame Maria ever further.

“Very well, I see yer stubbornness and yer defiance. Ye shall be punished. Furthermore, I have made me mind up that at the end of the month ye shall take yer vows tae become one of the sisters. Ye’ve been a postulant here at the Priory fer too long and it’s time ye were subjugated tae follow the Sacred Orders and never raise yer voice again tae argue or demand.”

She waited while Davina gathered her scant belongings, the scratchy, rough-woven flax robe, her boots, her rosary and her bible, before she ushered Davina from the room.

As she was led from the dormitory and along the silent, cold passageway to the lonely punishment cell, Davina ground her teeth at the injustice of it. Yet, she knew not to complain. Any voice raised in opposition to Dame Maria’s would be silenced quickly with additional punishments.

Once they arrived at the tiny space with its thick stone walls and its bare wooden pallet where she was to be incarcerated, Dame Maria unlocked the bolt with a giant iron key and drew the latch, swinging open the heavy metal-studded door so that Davina could slip inside.

The sister raised her arm, the thin strap she held in her hand curled into the air with a hissing sound before she lashed a stinging blow across Davina’s shoulders.

“Ye’ll remain there, contemplating yer wickedness, until I see fit tae allow ye tae re-enter the daily contemplations of our blessed Priory.” The woman strode to the door and slammed it shut, Davina shuddering at the sound of the giant key grinding in the lock.

She curled herself into a ball on the pallet, hugging her knees for warmth, pulling the thin cloth around her, trying her best to find a speck to warm her and block out the pain where she’d taken the blow.

This miserable, cold space was all too familiar. Since she’d been brought to the Priory as a child, she’d spent almost as much time in this cell as she had in the dormitory. Usually, it meant a diet of one meal each day, consisting of stale bread and water. If she was fortunate, there might be a small helping of warm milk, but little else.

What was worse than the savage pangs of hunger, was being kept indoors in the half darkness. Being away from the light, not breathing in the salt air off the sea, watching the birds fly, as she longed to do, was a far greater punishment than the lack of sustenance. She fretted that the garden she tended so lovingly, where she grew herbs and vegetables for the convent, would wither and die without her there to nurture it.

There was something in Dame Maria’s twisted smile that told her she, Davina, was particularly offensive to the woman and there was a strange, warped reason why she was singled out for punishment again and again.

She’d heard her presence here referred to as a stain on the convent, and that she herself was the spawn of the devil, something evil, that had no right to be among the good sisters.

At first, Davina had believed what she’d been told and she’d believed it was her wickedness that had resulted in her being abandoned here. But as the years went by, the insults and negations of her worth rolled off her like drops of rain on her skin, where once they had penetrated like knives plunged into her heart.

But today, what she’d heard had frozen her to the core of her being. She was to be forced to take the vows that would make her a Bride of Christ.

She lowered her head, resting her forehead against her knees.

No, she could not take vows to God that she would never keep. She wanted to embrace life as fully as she was able to, not to spend her days here in this place of isolation, far from the company of others. She could not bear to contemplate that this was all she would ever know.

She simply had to leave this place where she was endlessly punished and treated with ruthless cruelty. And now, her resolve to escape was all the more urgent as Dame Maria had declared she would be forced to take her vows at the end of the month. Although she had little sense of when, exactly, that would be, she knew her time was short.

Her stay in the tiny, dark cell, with only a bucket for her ablutions and a platter of scraps provided once daily, continued for what seemed an endless stretch of time. It was impossible to distinguish between day and night and, although at first, she’d tried to tune herself to the distant sounds of the chapel bells tolling the hours, she slowly lost all sense of time. It felt as if all her life had been lived in this place, where there was no comfort or warmth and her only company were occasional visits from Dame Maria.

“Look at me,” she’d command. “Let me look in yer eyes so I can see if ye’ve repented.”

Whatever defiance she imagined was in Davina’s eyes would earn another resounding blow with her whip, and the withdrawal of the scarce rations she was provided with. Although it was impossible to judge, Davina reckoned that days would pass when she would be afforded no nourishment at all. Not even a drop of water would pass her lips.

Her thoughts were occupied with plans to escape from the Priory. She must be out of the reach of Dame Maria before she was forced to take her vows.

Never would she break a vow once it was made before God, but she was certain the good Lord would not wish her to suffer this way.

As the days and nights wore on, she formulated a plan for her escape. While she knew little of the Priory’s surroundings, she knew it was on a tiny island. Her vague sense of having been taken there in a small boat many years before, suggested to her that she would require such a boat if she were to make her escape.

Even though the prospect of crossing water made her resolve all but disappear under the weight of fear, she knew she must make her way to the closest island. Once there she would find her way to safety.

Although she had no idea how all this would come to pass, she prayed, and believed that if she put her faith in the Good Lord, she could assist her escape and send folk to her aid.

Somehow, she had to get word to one of the fishermen who frequently came to the Priory to trade their catch for the herbs and vegetables she had growing in the garden.

She would prevail on her one friend, Lyra, to assist her if only she had the courage to. But, whatever it took, she would leave this place before the vows were taken.

Enjoyed this bonus chapter? Dive back into the adventure and continue the journey on your e-reader. Happy reading!