“Like our blessed Lord Himself in the wilderness and all the saints who have followed Him, Healing Martha was attacked by the forces of darkness, because her love for God was so strong it struck even to the depths of Hell and wounded the Devil himself and he wanted to destroy her. But Healing Martha has so girded herself with the armour of the Lord and her shield of faith is so strong that all the arrows of Hell could not pierce it, nor any demons conquer her. God preserved her, both body and soul, to His glory.” She bowed her head. “May we all strive to be worthy of such a test.”
She raised her head and looked slowly around the silent room, fixing each of us in turn with her gaze as though measuring our worth and finding us lacking.
“Tomorrow we will say a special Mass to give thanks for His protection and the preservation of our sister.”
“Praise God!” The cry was loud, but without feeling. Many looked perplexed.
“Does that mean Healing Martha is well again?” Catherine whispered urgently in my ear.
Muttering broke out around the room. Catherine was not the only one who was confused. Merchant Martha tugged at Servant Martha’s arm and whispered rapidly. Servant Martha, frowning, took another draught from her cup.
“I have to tell you now that Healing Martha is sorely wounded from her great battle, as you would expect. For who could face such a trial and come through unscathed? But they are honourable wounds she bears, as were those of the saints and martyrs before us who have defended their faith and virtue against great evil. The burning touch of the demon paralysed her side, as our own Lord was wounded in His side by evil men. Healing Martha does not speak to us, for to tell us of the horror and evil of the demon who assailed her would be too great for us to bear. But she needs no discourse with us, for our Lord Himself speaks to her and she to Him in tongues beyond our understanding.”
“Praise God! Praise God!”
Some of the women looked pleased, grateful even, but they’d not seen her. Catherine’s expression relaxed too, as if Servant Martha had somehow explained everything and all was right with the world again. She smiled eagerly at me. Did she remember how Healing Martha looked when we found her? Or was that picture now diffused with martyr-light, a twisted face made pretty with gold leaf and an animal grunt sweetened to angel song?
Servant Martha rapped the table again. The speech was not over.
“It’s evident that Healing Martha will not be able to perform her duties in the infirmary for some time. She was an elderly woman when she came here and after a lifetime of service many of her age might expect that they had earned the right to doze in the sun and have others care for them, but we all know that Healing Martha was never one to do that.”
There was a ripple of affectionate laughter round the room, but it had a sad edge to it.
“When she is restored to health, and we pray that is soon-”
“Amen.”
“-then we must persuade her to rest and let younger, stronger women take up her load. We must treasure her as a fine book-seeking her wisdom, but not allowing her to squander her precious energy on tasks that others could perform. Therefore we must appoint another Martha to take up her duties. Once we have done all we can for the village and the flood waters have receded, the Council of Marthas will meet to discuss the matter. You are each enjoined to pray that God’s Holy Spirit will guide our decision. Now we shall kneel for the Grace.”
There was much shuffling and Catherine nudged me in the ribs.
“That’ll be you, Beatrice, the next Martha. Everyone says so.”
“No,” I snapped, blushing scarlet and wishing she would not whisper so loud. “There are many others who could be chosen.”
“None with as much learning as you, nor been a beguine so long,” she persisted blithely. “They have to choose you.”
pisspuddle
iT WAS NEARLY DARK when William came back. I’d waited all day, sitting on a big high tomb so I could watch the bend where he had disappeared. I knew he’d come back round there again with Mam. William would be waving, shouting he’d found her. Mam would say I was a good girl, to wait, like she said.
All day people were wading to and from the church. Some came back with big bundles of dripping things tied to their backs. They said it was too wet to sleep in their cottages. Others said they were going to stay in the cottages even though there was still water in them, to keep their things from being stolen. But some came back angry or crying, saying all their things were gone, taken by the river or their neighbours. Many of the cottages were gone too, smashed to pieces by the flood.
By the afternoon the water was going down a bit. I didn’t see it go down, but if I looked away for a long time, when I looked back I could see that the top of a stone which had been covered right over was now poking out of the water. I tried to make William and Mam come back. When the water is halfway down that stone, they’ll come. When the water is three withies down that gate, then they’ll come. But they didn’t.
It was freezing cold sitting on the grave. Old Lettice had given me one of her old kirtles to wear while my clothes dried. She looped it up with a bit of rope but it still came down right over my feet. I wrapped the long sleeves tightly round me. I wanted to go back inside the church in the warm, but if I didn’t keep watch William wouldn’t be able to find Mam. I had to stay and wait, like William said, or my prayer wouldn’t work.
The priest said to pray for Father, but I couldn’t do that. God might not know which prayer I wanted Him to answer. Father Ulfrid said there’d been a storm at the coast, but my father said there were always storms there. He’d watch the great grey horses galloping to shore, tossing their white manes and tails, but he wasn’t afeared of them. So I didn’t need to pray for Father, because I knew where Father was.
Lettice came out in the afternoon. She saw me on the tomb and waddled towards me. She looked even fatter than usual ’cause she’d got lots of her clothes tied round her waist, in case someone stole them.
“There you are. I’ve been looking all over, dear. Whatever are you doing sitting out here? You’ll catch your death. Inside with you.” She caught hold of me arm and tried to pull, but I squirmed my arm away and clung fast to the stone.
“I’m waiting for Mam and William.”
“And what do you think your mam is going to say, when she finds you hanging around out here in the cold? As if she hasn’t enough troubles, poor soul, without you taking a chill. She doesn’t need a sick bairn on her hands.”
“Don’t care. I’m not coming in.”
“There’s a little of that hot broth left, dear; don’t you want some?” Lettice wheedled.
“No. It was horrible.”
“There are some naughty little girls who should be grateful they’ve anything to eat at all. Very well, you sit here, but don’t come crying to me when you’re hungry, because there’ll be none left.” She stomped away.
I was starving, but Lettice didn’t understand: I had to keep watching or William would not be able to find Mam.
When the sun went down it was colder than ever. Then it grew dark. Please make them come. Make them come now. The candles had been lit in the church and light tumbled out through the windows making shadows creep through the graveyard. The trees began to creak and moan. Now there were all kinds of noises I hadn’t noticed before. I cringed against the stone as something black flew across the graveyard. It was small, a bird or a bat. It swooped over me without a sound.
My heart started thumping. I looked fearfully up at the church tower. Lettice had told Mam the Owlman had flown down from there and pounced on two lasses in the graveyard. He could be up there right now, sharpening his beak and flapping his wings ready to swoop down.
I jumped up and tried to run towards the safety of the church, but I tripped over Lettice’s long kirtle and went sprawling on the ground. I yelped as my knee banged hard against a stone.
“Pisspuddle, is that you?” a voice called behind me.
William was climbing over the wall. I hitched up the long skirt and ran down the graveyard. I threw myself at him, hugging him so hard he staggered backwards. He was sopping wet and stank of mud and shit, but I wouldn’t let go.
“Watch it, you daft beggar. You’ll squash her.”
He pushed something warm and soft into my arms. I heard the chirruping gurgle. I turned the bundle towards the light from the church windows. There, nestled in a bit of sacking, was a little brown chicken with a white flash on her wing. It was Bryde, my Bryde. She was safe. I pushed my nose into her warm feathers and breathed in the new-bread smell of her.
William rubbed his arms and shivered. “Stupid bird was roosting up in the rafters in our cottage. Reckon she went in there looking for you. You’d best put her in the basket and keep her hidden, else someone will have her for supper.”
“Thank you for saving her.” I stretched up on tiptoe and kissed him.
“Get off!” He pushed me away, scrubbing at his cheek with his sleeve. “Here, you’re perishing cold. What are you doing out here anyway? It’s dark.” He glanced fearfully up at the church tower, grabbed my shoulder, and pushed me towards the church door.
“But where’s Mam, William? I thought you were going to find her?”
He stopped and rubbed his fist against his eyes. “She’s not here then? I… thought she might have come a different way… Kept telling myself, she’d be here.”
“She hasn’t come. I’ve been waiting all day, William. I didn’t move, like you said, but she still didn’t come. Wasn’t she in the cottage?”
“Door was open. Bed was smashed against the wall, but there weren’t no sign of Mam. I’ve looked everywhere, Pisspuddle, all over the village. I can’t find her.” He turned his face away and his voice sounded strange as if his nose was running.
I clutched his hand. It was as cold as a frog. “I expect Mam’s gone to find Father, to tell him to come home. That’s where she’s gone, William, isn’t it?”
But he didn’t answer.
