Authors: Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
"And if they do not? What messengers have you? Who will you send?” He stared around the cell. “There are only nuns here."
"Some of whom know how to ride a horse,” Père Guibert reminded him. “And if they are devoted to their calling, they will not balk at such a task. In times such as these, it is not fitting for nuns to keep to their cloisters, but instead to come to the defense of their Church and their faith.” He wondered how difficult it would be to convince Mère Léonie of that. “I know that the Cardinal would not approve of such a plan if we were to ask him, but there is not time for such a message to be sent—and who would carry it?—and so I must do as my conscience prompts me, and ask the Sisters to aid us in this time of need."
"I will pray it will succeed,” Padre Bartolimieu said with more fervor than Père Guibert had ever heard from him.
Mère Léonie heard the priest out in silence. “You may have two nuns to ride for you,” she said when he had finished. “The rest are to keep here, where we may do what we may to prepare for the coming dangers, if they are coming at all."
"But Padre Bartolimieu...” Père Guibert began, then trailed off.
"Very true. And it is most certain that he believes the gravity of the situation and that his warning is genuine, but, mon Père, you know as well as I that when word is sent, it is often magnified, so that what was a group of old men from Hungary becomes an army of sages from the Khan before the Lord's Day comes twice. We must have care, for to be caught up in the fear of danger is as great a sin as doing nothing. God has promised His protection and salvation, and to do those things which increase doubt and terror only leads to greater sin."
Père Guibert nodded, knowing that Mère Léonie was well within her authority to speak to him in this way. “I have heard enough of the Flagellants to believe we must at least take measures to insure the safety of the convent and the village."
"Of course. I in no way disagree. God would not be pleased if we waited like sacrificial goats for the Devil to descend on us.” She rose and walked down her study. “I will see that the message is carried through the valley and on toward Avignon, but I will not send one of my Sisters to the Papal city; that would be incorrect in every particular, and the Pope would surely rebuke us sternly for such actions. I will, however, see that a messenger is sent to the Pope, and one to that Duc ... Seur Aungelique's cousin, who came here on her father's behest. He is not far from here and he has armed men to follow him. That will be of use if the Flagellants come here. And if for some reason they do not, the men-at-arms may still ride in pursuit of them."
It shamed Père Guibert to admit he had not thought of so practical an approach to the problem, and he was quick to acknowledge his failing. “You are right, ma Fille. You are seeing this more clearly than I am."
"Well, coming from Dalmatia, we learn to anticipate such things,” she said, turning his praise aside. “We have Turks and heathen alike to deal with there, and we know from youth how to protect ourselves."
"I had forgotten you were from there,” Père Guibert admitted, grateful to have that excuse for his lack of preparedness. “Yes, naturally you are more familiar with the fate of those who do not plan to defend themselves.” He paused. “Who will you send?"
"I think that it must be women of some rank—a pity that it cannot be Seur Aungelique, but it would be folly to permit her outside the walls—women who have names that bring respect. Seur Fleurette and Seur Lucille are the most likely choices, though only Seur Fleurette is of a noble House. She must be the one to ride to the Duc, I think. She is not as strong as I would like, but the good angel will see that she arrives safely. We have a plow horse and she may have that for her mount. Seur Lucille ... she is known in the villages of the valley, and there are many who will heed what she says no matter what they may think of her message. That is a factor, mon Père; who will they listen to, once the word is spread? Those two are not flighty nuns, and they may be trusted to serve God with their lives."
The last of Mère Léonie's words startled Père Guibert, who had not considered until then there could be so great a risk to the women. “They should not ride without protection. It is not proper that they ride alone."
"Yes, of course they should have escort, and ride in wagons with curtains so that men may not look upon them. And there should be four or six armed men with them. But it is not possible. Even I arrived here with no escort other than the monk who drove the wagon. In plump and happy times, we may wait for such formalities, but this is not the case, and our lives and souls are forfeit if we fail."
Simply hearing these words brought the full weight of their danger home to Père Guibert. He crossed himself. “As you say, ma Fille. We are in the Hands of God."
"But in the realm of the Devil,” she reminded him with a somber nod. “In the realm of the Devil."
Barrels were filled with water and kegs with sap. The nuns were set to cleaning away all the loose branches that had fallen in the orchard, and anything that might serve for fuel for a fire was brought into the courtyard and stacked. Stones were gathered up, and three enormous planks were brought from Saunt-Vitre-lo-Sur to reinforce the courtyard door. Mothers with small children were sent from the village to occupy the upper floors of the convent, in the vacant cells. Cattle and sheep were driven into the distant fields and left with their shepherds and cowherds to remain there until all danger was past. Villagers and nuns alike took strength from Mère Léonie's calm assurance that they would come through it all with the help of God. Watching her, Père Guibert felt his guilt grow with his own profound doubt.
The two nuns, Seur Lucille and Seur Fleurette, had accepted their instructions with proper humility, and had left the convent within the hour of Mère Léonie's request that they ride to warn others of the approaching Flagellants. Seur Lucille still had leather riding leggings, but Seur Fleurette had not, and it caused some little upset until a pair could be found. Both nuns accepted letters to deliver as well as memorizing Père Guibert's instructions and information.
Activity continued at Le Tres Saunt Annunciacion for the better part of a day. Even those nuns usually not active took part, and though all felt harried, they also felt they were doing important and essential work, and most of the time camaraderie prevailed at the convent. Mère Léonie supervised with her usual efficiency that left Père Guibert a little envious for her abilities and foresight.
"You have done well, my Sisters,” she told them after the evening meal, which had been served late. “You have been brave and industrious, which is much to your credit and will stand in your favor when you answer to Our Lord. You have also been of steady and tranquil minds, showing the surety of your faith. There is no doubt here.” She turned to address the mothers with their children who sat on the far side of the refectory, warily regarding the nuns. “You, too, have shown your faith by seeking refuge here, and God will demonstrate His love for you with His protection. There are enemies and we must defeat them, but our Ally is greater.” She nodded toward Père Guibert. “Our prayers will be heard, I am certain. And Père Guibert and Padre Bartolimieu will hear your confession, if you feel the need of shriving before tomorrow."
All those gathered to hear her felt grateful and pleased that they had done so well.
Yet the Flagellants did not come then, nor the next day, nor the next, and the goodwill that had been created and nurtured began to give way under the strain of crowding and waiting. Père Guibert could see the courage of the nuns erode, turning spiteful and angry.
He pleaded with them to have a care and think of the danger that waited for them, and at first this was enough to stop the mutters of discontent, but as the hours turned into days, the nuns were not so easily silenced.
"Seur Elvire,” he admonished her when he found her arguing with one of the women from Saunt-Vitre-lo-Sur, “you must have patience with her; she does not know the ways of your Order, and she meant no harm when she took that piece of bread for her child."
"She's capable of making her own bread,” Seur Elvire sulked.
"In her own house, yes, but here she must take what you offer her, and charity given in pride is no charity at all. Let her have the bread and forget the rest."
Seur Elvire glared at him. “As you insist, mon Père,” she said.
"Deo gratias,” he said, reluctantly blessing her.
Mère Léonie continued cheerful, untouched by the discord that grew around her in dissonant voices.
"You are all dedicated nuns,” she reminded her Sisters. “You have taken vows and those vows were never more important than they are now. You must not be distracted by the inconvenience of our predicament, for that is where the Devil finds a foothold. You must be on guard against acrimony. Those of you who cannot curb their tongues must come to me or Père Guibert to confess your error."
This instruction was met with silence and averted eyes. Seur Odile coughed delicately and gave a long, pointed stare to Seur Aungelique, who had resumed her night-long vigils in spite of the suggestion that she should not.
"I do not wish to criticize any of you,” Mère Léonie went on. “I would want to think that all of you are too firm in your faith to bring disruption and despair to this convent. But there are those of you who are caught up in considerations of the world and the body, and for that you lead your Sisters into error and grief. You will not be so ready to complain when you face the Throne of Mercy. And you may be everlastingly thankful that God is merciful, for He knows better than any man alive what agonies of fear each of you must suffer with in the dark of the soul, where melancholy and fancy lay their snares. Those of you who try to sleep, imagining the ravages of the Flagellants, buildings falling around all of us, bodies ripped and broken, all in ruins, you must learn instead to call to God for the airy heights of Paradise to comfort you. When the horror of our coming battle is too great, the hosts of angels should occupy your thoughts."
Père Guibert listened to this with some apprehension, for he could see more worry come into the nuns’ faces at the dreadful visions Mère Léonie described. He himself had often painted such pictures of Hell, but what they faced now was not the everlasting fires but the immediate threat of pain and death. He decided to speak with Mère Léonie later about her warnings.
"When you say your prayers tonight, let each of you solicit la Virge to extend her aid to us, helpless women that we are in this world of armed men. Let each of you beg her to remember your devotion and service and beseech her to keep you from harm. She is our way to salvation and to the joys of Heaven in the life hereafter. She alone can protect us.” She crossed herself and waited while the nuns did the same.
The meal was even more silent than usual; the women from the village did not speak and their children had been threatened into silence. Père Guibert ate slowly, finding the simple food hard to chew, as if the flour had become as obdurate as the tempers of the nuns around him.
At midday the next day a swineherd came from Mou Courbet with word that there had been troops of men on the road, men in robes who carried lashes which they used on themselves and others. “There aren't so many of them, not as many as we feared. They aren't going very fast. They march along but with the whips and all..."
Seur Odile, who was warden for the day, nodded inwardly, congratulating herself on her wisdom which had convinced her that no Flagellants would come to Le Tres Saunt Annunciacion. “God be kind to you for your service,” she said in her most condescending tone.
"Thank you, ma Seur,” he answered, tugging his forelock and bowing toward the grille. “It might be just as well to send the women home. We're driving the stock in from the fields, in Mou Courbet."
"I will inform our priest of that.” She had no intention of agreeing to the plans of a swineherd.
Mère Léonie heard the news with relief. “Well, God is good to us, is He not? He has shown His care in keeping us from harm."
If she was satisfied, many of the others were not. Seur Adalin, who rarely said anything, either to the bad or the good, for once let it be known that she was disappointed.
"We have been in readiness, we have shown ourselves willing, and God will not test us!” she declared.
Several of the Sisters agreed; Seur Ranegonde added, “We have been tested, ma Seur, by those insufferable women from the village. Have you seen the state the upper floor is in, thanks to them and their children? We will have to whitewash all the walls again and we'll be cleaning privies for the rest of the week."
Père Guibert heard some of these mutterings, and though he understood the frustration behind them, he was worried at the vehemence the nuns showed now that they were convinced they were safe. “You must not assume all danger is past,” he cautioned them, and was politely but deliberately ignored. When he taxed Mère Léonie with his concerns, she chided him for his lack of faith.
"Mon Père, I know that there was much to fear, but it is past now and we must return to our Order, grateful for the guidance and protection God has shown us. We should not doubt our deliverance, and yet that is what you propose to do."
"Have the women stay for one more night. Take that much of a precaution, ma Fille. Otherwise we may all have cause to grieve."
"But they do not wish to stay, mon Père,” she countered. “They have already said that they wish to leave. What am I to do? Lock them in the chapel and set my Sisters to guarding them? How could I justify it? Think of what these women have suffered already, and ask yourself if I am wrong to let them take their children and go home."
Père Guibert had no answer for her, and so he offered no argument. “They are in danger, Mère Léonie. The Flagellants are like mad dogs, everywhere attacking the faithful and spreading their madness as they go. Even now, though we think otherwise, there is danger, and they will face it here in safety or there in vulnerability.” He looked away from her. “May God forgive us for deserting them in this terrible hour."