Maid Of Midnight

“That would mean living with some deceit, Bridget,” Ebert added. “But no more than we have all had to bear over the years. I’m sure God will forgive us since it has all been done in an effort to keep you safe.”

Bridget shook her head and said firmly, “I won’t go. What would you do without me here?”

Francis sat beside her on the abbot’s narrow cot and, ignoring the conventions of his order, put an arm around her and drew her against his plump shoulder. “We shall have to manage, Bridget. We’re not totally helpless, you know. We did get on somehow before you came.”

“But the kitchens…the gardens…the work orders…” Bridget could not believe what she was hearing. They were sending her away from the only home she’d ever known, all because she’d exchanged a few sentences with a stranger who would no doubt continue on his travels and never bother them again.

“We’ll all miss you dreadfully, Bridget, and we’ll try to keep the abbey from falling apart in your absence.” There was a touch of amusement in Alois’s voice.

“You may like it on the outside, Bridget,” Ebert added. “It’s time you had a life of your own that involves more than caring for a bunch of old men.”

Bridget looked up at Francis, who still held her clutched to his side, then at the anxious faces of Alois and Ebert hovering over her. She was beginning to realize that, unlike times in the past when she’d been able to sweet-talk or bully the monks into seeing her side of things, this time they were not about to be swayed. “I’ve never wanted any life but this,” she said, her voice faltering. “I’m happy here. Please don’t send me away.”

Alois straightened up. “It’s already decided. Ebert will take you tomorrow before dawn. By the time our English visitor wakes up, you’ll be gone. Now you’d best get some sleep before your journey.”

Her momentary weakness past, Bridget slipped out of Francis’s arm and stood, facing all three of them, her hands on her hips. “I won’t go,” she said again. “I’m sorry that I’ve worried you by speaking with the stranger, but he’ll be soon gone, and I’m not going to let his visit disrupt the life of this entire abbey.”

Francis rose heavily to his feet. “I’m afraid the abbot is right, Bridget. It’s the only way to protect you. What would people think if they knew you’d been raised among us?”

“I don’t care what they think.”

“Ah, but you profess to care what becomes of this abbey,” Alois said gravely. “And if it were known that we had kept you hidden here all these years, it could endanger our very existence.”

This was an argument Bridget had not considered. “Do you think the church would—”

“Holy orders have been disbanded for less grievous offenses,” Alois interrupted.

She sat back down on the bed in stunned silence. Though she could hardly fathom the thought, it appeared that she might have no choice but to agree to the abbot’s decision. She was going to be banished from her home and all the people she loved.

Struggling with rising tears, she said, “Promise me that once the stranger leaves, you’ll let me return.”

Francis gave a sad smile. “Lass, you’re about to discover a whole new world that you’ve never before experienced. By the time the Englishman leaves us, you may not want to return here.”

“I shall want to return here,” she said fiercely. “St. Gabriel is my home, and it always will be.”

The monks exchanged a sad glance, but none of them tried to argue with her.

“So as soon as he leaves, you’ll have me back?” she asked again.

“We’ll discuss the matter at that time,” Alois said stiffly.

And she had to be content with that.

Ranulf found Brother Francis leaving church after morning prayers.

“How’s your head today?” Francis greeted him. It seemed to Ranulf that some of the monk’s usual enthusiasm was missing.

“Each day a little better,” Ranulf replied. “But I’ve not sought you out to discuss my condition. I’ve come for some answers.”

Francis looked around. A number of the monks were leaving the church, making their way to their morning tasks. He nodded his head toward the far end of the courtyard. “We’ll talk over at the vegetable garden,” he said. “It will be more private, and in any event, I’m on cook duty today.”

Neither man spoke until they had crossed to the other side of the compound and reached the good-sized plot of land where the monks grew most of their produce. Francis picked up a basket from the edge of the tilled area and gestured with it toward Ranulf. “Did they ever set you to harvesting vegetables in that fancy estate of yours, lad?”

But Ranulf was not about to be distracted from his purpose. He ignored the monk’s question and the offered basket, saying instead, “I saw her again last night, Brother Francis—the midnight nurse. Why did you lie to me about her?”

Francis hesitated, then set the basket back on the ground and turned to face the younger man. “May the Lord forgive me, son, but I had my reasons. I’ll ask you to inquire no further about the maid.”

“But why? Can’t I at least have an explanation? This woman saved my life, remember.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ll not give me her name? Nor tell me where I can find her?”

“I cannot.”

Ranulf wondered at his own insistence in the face of Francis’s obvious misery. He should forget the girl and put his mind on the business of finding his brother, but something compelled him to find out about her. His head was starting to throb again. He set his jaw and returned the monk’s implacable gaze. “Then I’ll make my own inquiries. I warrant someone in town will be able to tell me about her. There can’t be too many young women of her description with the healing powers.”

Francis winced, then he hiked the hem of his habit, knelt awkwardly at the side of the vegetable patch and reached once again for the basket. “You are a very stubborn young man,” he said.

“Aye. So I’ve been told.”

“She’s no longer here,” Francis said finally, beginning to pick beans off a tangled vine. At Ranulf’s skeptical expression, he glanced up at him and continued, “I’m telling you the truth this time. She left this morning for Beauville. But you must believe me when I tell you that inquiries could put her very life in danger.”

This was not what Ranulf had expected. He’d speculated about different reasons for the monk’s reluctance to tell him about the girl, but this notion had not been among them. Looking around at the gentle green hills that surrounded the humble abbey, he asked, “What could threaten a young maid’s life in this peaceful place?”

Francis continued his methodical picking. “Once again, I can’t tell you. ’Tis a secret guarded over these many years. But I would beg you to put her out of your mind.”

Suddenly Ranulf’s curiosity about the beautiful maid took on a whole new meaning. If the monk’s words were true—if his mysterious nurse was truly in danger—then perhaps he’d been brought here to help her. He’d seen such miracles before on Crusade.

“I’d like to help her,” he said.

His tone was so earnest that Francis put down the basket once again and dropped his head to his chest, lost in thought.

Sensing that the monk was weakening, Ranulf pressed his case. “I’d do nothing to harm her, Brother. I swear it by the holy rood. And perhaps it would be in my power to help her.”

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do to help,” Francis said slowly. “But if you give your sacred word never to speak to anyone of the circumstances under which you met her, I’ll tell you where she is. You may go to thank her and give her whatever reward you would like for the services she rendered you.”

Ranulf felt a peculiar elation that seemed out of proportion to the simple fact that he would have the opportunity to give a proper payment to a young woman who had tended him. “Where is she?” he asked eagerly.

Francis shook his head. “First, your word.”

“That I’ll not speak of her?”

“Aye.”

It seemed a strange request, but Ranulf nodded. “Aye, you have my word.”

Brother Francis looked into the basket. The bottom was scarcely covered. With a grunt, he pushed himself off the ground with both hands and stood. “The information will cost you,” he said, dusting off his hands.

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