I considered my answer carefully. “The principle that monastics do not move away from their abbey is an important one, and it has been largely observed since our founder’s time. But”—I raised my finger—“there are certainly precedents for monks leaving their mother houses to establish new foundations elsewhere. So there is an argument to be made in our favor, and I intend to make it if necessary when the time comes.”
A faint smile flickered on Juliana’s lips, another rare sight. I knew how much she detested St. Disibod, and it occurred to me that that alone would be a sufficient reason to move.
“Would it be Sister Jutta’s wish too?” Griselda’s quiet voice floated up.
I had thought about that, and although I could not have absolute certainty, something told me she would approve. “I believe that for all the choices she made for herself, she would want us to be respected. And that is not possible for as long as we remain a part of this abbey.”
“But Abbot Kuno is good to us.” Gertrude offered timidly. She was the only one who seemed worried about the plan. “And who is to say with certainty that Prior Helenger will replace him?”
“There is never any certainty about anything in life,” I replied, perhaps a little too harshly, “but he is the most senior of the obedientiaries, and that alone puts him in the direct line of succession. But even if that does not come to pass—if, for example, he dies before Kuno—what I have just told you will still stand. None of the other monks will grant us the freedom we need.” A woman’s role was not to speak but to listen, to nurture, and stand behind. There was no abbey in the land where my work would be fully acceptable. I would always have to fight for the right to practice medicine and to share my knowledge. I would never be certain of having access to a library or a scriptorium. I would always be at the mercy of someone else’s goodwill, whim, or greed.
I could only count on myself.
Ricardis was the only one who had not spoken up but only gazed at me, smiling and radiant as ever. I had no reason to doubt her support.
I had the sisters behind me.
There was only one other I needed to tell.
31
January 1130
I stood at Jutta’s grave on a frosty afternoon.
Her tomb was the largest in the abbey cemetery and made of stone, in contrast to the tiny mounds with wooden crosses that marked the monks’ resting places. It had not started out that way; it was the humblest grave of all on the day she was reburied, but with so many pilgrims flocking to it, the abbot had ordered a sturdy stone cross carved and placed over it. On its arms, visitors had been leaving rosaries and wooden crucifixes on leather thongs in such quantities that they had to be removed from time to time.
As I watched them fluttering in the icy wind, I could not help but think that Jutta would be unhappy at such prominence. But it also made me proud because she deserved it, although for reasons different from those that attracted the pilgrims. For me, Jutta was my magistra, a teacher alongside Wigbert who had planted a seed in my mind that had blossomed into a belief that my pursuits were just as worthy of consideration as those of any man.
I came on this little private pilgrimage to tell her that I had been made abbey physician. A few days after our last month’s supper, Kuno had summoned me to let me know of his decision, Helenger hovering over his shoulder. I was surprised and pleased, yet something bothered me about the announcement, and it was not just the unusual fact that the prior had remained silent.
On my way back from the abbot’s house, I had met Ricardis as she came out of the side door of the cloister that we, as women, had to use to enter the scriptorium to avoid walking through the monks’ quarters.
“Is everything all right?” The glow on her face dimmed somewhat when she saw the frown creasing my forehead.
I smiled in an effort to soften my face. “I was just offered the position of abbey physician.”
Ricardis’s big eyes rounded into two lovely pools of liquid dark. “That is wonderful!” She joined her hands together the way she did when finding something very exciting.
We started toward the convent, and I wondered if I should mention my misgivings to her. But Ricardis was a sweet and innocent creature whom I trusted almost as much as I did Volmar. “It is practically unheard of for women to hold such positions”—I thought back on Trota of Salerno—“which makes me wonder why the abbot would do it. I know it was not at the prior’s request.” I could not help the sarcasm.
“But there is nobody here with the skill and experience that match yours.”
That was true enough; still, doubts gnawed at me. “But why so suddenly? Why now? We could have gone on like this indefinitely, with me fulfilling the role of physician without being officially called so.”
“Patients ask for you and leave generous gifts to the abbey.” She walked slightly ahead of me as we approached the enclosure. When Griselda opened the gate, Ricardis slid between her and the door and held it for me. “It makes perfect sense for Abbot Kuno to elevate you like this,” she added with assurance as we continued to the chapel, for it was almost vesper time.
I grimaced. The reduction of my relationship with the monks to a transaction guided by
