When I came out, gusts of winds where swooping overhead like swallows before rain, shaking the tendrils of the vine and tearing off its drying leaves. The clouds were scudding fast across the sky, and together with the sharp breeze, they portended a change from the mild weather of the past few weeks. I was not halfway to the dorter when another gust sent a shutter of one of the windows swaying in its hinges. Before I could go inside and close it, a final blow loosened it out of the wall altogether, and it landed on the beaten earth with a thud.
I gritted my teeth in frustration. The convent’s buildings needed repairs badly, and it was time to bring it up with Kuno again. I would send a message first thing in the morning to ask for a meeting. But that night, at least, we would be shivering in our beds.
In response, I received an invitation to the Chapter meeting the following day. My last appearance at the monks’ gathering had ended with an attempt to shut me permanently inside the convent. As magistra my position was different, though I was still nervous.
On my way to the chapter house, I took stock of the improvements that had taken place over the years, many of them paid for with our money. The new tiles on the roof of the church glinted red in the October sun, providing a lively counterpoint to its bulky gray mass. Inside, there were new relics, a richly decorated Bible, and fine wall hangings rumored to have arrived all the way from France. I had also heard that the monks’ cloister now boasted a fountain carved out of marble, a stone prized for its beauty and durability by the Romans. If it was true, it would have cost a small fortune.
But our walls had seen no major work done since the attack three years before, even though the empire’s affairs were as volatile as ever under King Lothair. As the abbey had grown richer, the main safeguard of its prosperity had gone unaddressed. We were protected by the same wood-and-earth palisade that was full of rotted beams only provisionally patched up. The monks had been lulled into complacency, and I could not keep my head from shaking as I reached the chapter house. It, too, was fitted with sturdy new oak doors bound in intricately carved iron.
The obedientiaries had already taken their seats at the table, but it was Helenger who was presiding over the assembly. All at once I remembered that Kuno had been planning to visit a priory north of Mainz that was in the middle of trying to achieve independence from its mother house at Affligem.
“Father Abbot is gone to Andernach to lend his support to Prior Gilbert.” Helenger confirmed my fears with a wolfish smile. “I have been given full powers to conduct business in his absence.”
With a sinking feeling, I realized I had walked into a trap. My plea might have worked—just—with Kuno, but there was little chance I would get what I wanted from Helenger, and there might be gratuitous humiliation in store for me besides that.
For the first hour, he went down a tedious list of business, although I was interested to hear the report on the income from that year’s harvest. It amounted to a respectable sum of three hundred twenty-five marks, far higher than the one hundred marks the abbey used to earn when I had first arrived, and a reflection of how its fortunes had risen along with the convent’s reputation. That list, I thought in frustration, included the bounty from the two dozen acres of oak forest and another ten acres of arable land Gertrude had brought with her.
A murmur of subdued conversations brought me out of my musings. Helenger had arrived at the end of his agenda, and the monks took advantage of the break to comment amongst themselves. When the ripple died down, he turned to me with affected politeness. “Sister Hildegard has requested a meeting, and even though Father Abbot could not be here today, we will gladly hear her business.”
I did not relish the idea of presenting my petition in a wider forum, but on reflection I realized that it might be beneficial. The monks, on the whole, respected the convent—some had even been admirers of Jutta’s ascetic ways. Perhaps Helenger would have a harder time refusing me in front of them. “I would like to submit for the abbey’s consideration,” I began without any preliminaries, “a request to renovate and enlarge the convent’s buildings.”
The prior regarded me with an impassive face. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
“It would be of great benefit to our community if our wooden dorter was replaced with a larger one built of stone, with separate sleeping and refectory quarters.”
“The enclosure is too small to fit a larger building,” Helenger said complacently.
“It could be easily expanded by incorporating a part of the smaller courtyard that is used by nobody except the servants and messengers between the abbey and the convent.”
A smirk curled the corners of his lips. “I don’t understand,” he said, feigning astonishment. “The anchoresses vowed to live out their days in simplicity and poverty, and you are asking us to build a sumptuous residence for them?”
“Hardly sumptuous, Brother Prior,” I replied evenly. “Rather, a more dignified place that meets our basic needs so we can fulfill our mission for the benefit of the people we serve and the glory of God.”
Helenger’s face remained set; it was clear that my plea was not a welcome one. I wondered whether he was truly so shortsighted as to keep the convent from growing. But his next words took me by surprise, for rather than refusing outright, he decided to attack me. “Troubling news has reached us
