The Breath of Peace (22 page)

She said nothing. Then she moved uneasily, her face contorted in puzzlement. ‘This sounds all very attractive, but… well, in real life I can't always be stopping to think about William. There's work to be done, and only the two of us to get through it all. That's mainly where we fall out – there's so much to do, and I get exasperated with him when he forgets things and he's clumsy and slow. It's all very well for you, there's a veritable army of men here to work together; at home it's only me and William.'

John nodded. ‘I know what you mean. Not all our men are equally skilled of course – if you'd ever stood and watched Brother Thomas trying to work alongside Brother Germanus you might think twice about saying it's all very well for us; but I do know what you mean.

‘I understand that the work has to be accomplished – the beasts fed and the place maintained and the crops sown – of course it does, but… shaping a life as God meant it to be involves paying attention to the
way
we do things. The thing is, the journey determines the destination, if you see what I mean. The way we take is what settles the place we will arrive at. If you spend the next ten years bickering with your man and belittling him, you will be sowing the seeds for a harvest of misery in your old age. He won't leave you. William would never leave you, of that I am sure. He's no slouch – he has the most phenomenal application and tenacity. But you could lose him in other ways. He could become very bitter and withdrawn, and he is capable of great coldness. He was a ruthless man once.

‘I think, if you are willing to let things go sometimes, not have to have everything done
right
, that will help. So what if the fox steals a hen or two? Is that more serious than letting the devil steal your marriage? Do you really want William dancing like a puppet while you pull the strings, afraid to offend you, frightened of what you'll say if he makes a mistake?'

He observed her quietly. ‘Is that… am I being too harsh?' he asked her gently.

She shook her head. ‘I think you've put your finger on it,' she replied, her voice dull and defeated. ‘I'm not a very good wife at all.'

John's hand moved in a gesture of protest. ‘You're the right wife for William. It's hard, in middle life, to make adjustments, is the only thing. It's the same here when older men who have been widowed feel a vocation to monastic life. But never mind that. Could you do it, do you think? Might you be able to make the choice to be kind a higher priority than being right? Could you keep your mind's eye on the way you've chosen and trust it will arrive at somewhere worthwhile?'

‘Yes, but – the “way” you're talking about is only my demeanour towards my husband, which is only one part of my life. That way might arrive at a beautiful marriage, but a sloppy homestead!'

‘Yes,' said John. ‘So what? Anyway, it won't, it couldn't. I haven't known William de Bulmer long, but long enough to be astonished at the power of his focus on housekeeping accounts. I promise you, if he let a chicken die unbudgeted, there is no one on God's earth who would feel it more keenly than him. With or without constant scolding he'll make a fine householder in the end. He's as sharp as a honed blade and diligent with it. I think you have to trust him.'

He watched her as she weighed these words carefully, frowning in concentration.

‘Has that… is that any help at all?' he asked her.

‘Yes. Yes it is,' she said. She lapsed into silence again, and he waited; he did not hurry her. ‘Adam, I think maybe I ought to go home,' she said at last.

Her eyes met his.
Such kindness there…
she thought.

‘Madeleine, if I haven't already talked you into the ground, there is one more thing I had it in mind to tell you.'

Her eyebrows lifted in enquiry: ‘Which is? Spit it out.'

John's heart gave thanks that it seemed life had left him one person at least who had no idea how to speak to an abbot. He thought it might be possible to get all too comfortable with deference and respect. He smiled at her.

‘It's something I heard Father Theodore telling our novices when I sat in on his teaching circle a while ago. It made quite an impression on me, and I've borne it in mind ever since.

‘He said that everything we do or say in our interactions with each other every day we should be able to sort into one of four bundles. Imagine four boxes each having a label glued on, he said. The labels on the boxes are: THANK YOU, I LOVE YOU, I ASK YOUR PARDON, and PLEASE HELP ME. So, the way we treat people, our manner towards them and the words we say, the things we do – everything about our attitude towards them should be able to be sorted into those four boxes. He said what's in those boxes would be fit to offer our brothers in community. Then he said there's a fifth box with a label crowded with crabbed script. It says something like I HATE YOU – I RESENT YOU – I'M JEALOUS OF YOU – I'M FURIOUS WITH YOU – I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP, THANKS VERY MUCH! – I DESPISE YOU – YOU GET ON MY NERVES – I CAN'T BE BOTHERED – YOU'RE A COMPLETE NIT-WIT – LEAVE ME ALONE. Theodore said anything in our lives that couldn't be sorted into those first four boxes could probably be tossed into that fifth one – and that fifth box full of these spiky, bitter, acrid herbs, we offer up to God. And he eats them. And digests them. And the divine gut turns them into what they already were all along. When they have passed through the body of God their true nature is revealed, and we don't want anything more to do with them. It was such a weird and vivid idea – I couldn't be sure if it was heresy or not, but it certainly caught the imagination of the young men in our novitiate!'

Madeleine didn't laugh. ‘What were the first four boxes again?' she asked.

‘Thank you, I love you, I ask your pardon, and please help me.'

She nodded. ‘I can remember that. And God eats the rest. Very well; I'll try it.'

He was ready then, she could see, to draw her audience with him to a close. Tentatively, humbly, he offered to say a prayer with her, and this she accepted eagerly. She expected him to use the form of words that concluded a confession – blessing and absolving her, signing her with the cross; but instead he bent his head in quiet humility and spoke to his Lord Jesus as though Christ in his homespun robe and sandals sat there with them at the fireside, on one of the low wooden stools.

‘Ah, my beloved Lord, you see how things are with us; you know the struggle and the heartache that have touched William's and Madeleine's life together. You see the love, and you feel the times they slip and fall. Help them to find the way of humility and gentleness. You who came through locked doors and stone walls to find your friends, and breathed into them your Holy Spirit, gift of peace, find your way into Caldbeck Cottage, and impart your breath of peace into the everyday life there. Help them, cheer them, encourage them, bless them, lead them, and all for your love's sake, that the peaceable kingdom of kindness may reign in their lives. Amen.'

Such a comforting sense of serenity and reassurance settled into Madeleine's heart as John spoke these words, that she hardly dared move lest she lose the loveliness and the deep sense of peace. She opened her eyes and looked into the glow of the fire. ‘Amen,' she whispered. ‘Amen.'

But then she knew her brother had given her as much time as he had, and she got up from her stool ready to make her farewell.

‘Won't you stay with us another night?' John asked her courteously. ‘You don't want to go up to the farm and see the new lambs? You are surely welcome; we'd be glad to have you here longer.'

The words lined up in her head ready to be spoken –
Adam, I'm not stupid! It's perfectly clear to me how busy you are and how many other people are waiting to call on your time. You've told me exactly what I needed to know, I got what I came for, so now I'll leave you in peace.

She drew breath – and then she stopped. The huge grin on her brother's face as he watched her recalibrating her thought processes annoyed her intensely. With an effort, reformulating, she said: ‘Thank you – that's so kind. I should have loved to stay an extra night; indeed I'd planned to, because I hadn't expected you would be able to make the time to see me right away – and brother, I am so grateful. This is such a welcoming place, so full of peace. But I also think William might be glad of…' Here she paused.
An extra pair of hands
was what she'd intended to say. She changed it. ‘Glad to have me back home,' she said instead.

Speaking the words made her realize how costly is vulnerability – to admit that she was loved, and needed not just to do the chores but for herself. It surprised her how hard it was to say, how shy it made her feel. She looked up at the kindness in her brother's face. ‘How'm I doing?' she asked, and he threw back his head and laughed.

‘Madeleine, it's been a treat to see you! Mind you tell that man of yours I sent him my love. And yes, I'm sure you're right, he'll be missing you and it'll warm his heart to know you wanted to come home earlier than you said. He adores you, you know. He absolutely adores you.'

He opened his arms to her, and gave her a quick hug, then stepped back, ducking his head in a little bow of courtesy as he opened the door into the abbey court for her, and stood aside to let her pass through.

‘I don't know if I'm going to remember everything,' she said doubtfully as they crossed the court together, ‘much less manage to put it into practice.'

He shrugged. ‘Your best will be good enough. And there's a short version that I personally find comes in handy.'

‘Oh?' She stopped. ‘What is it?'

‘KYMS.'

‘Which is what?'

‘Keep Your Mouth Shut. When all else fails it's very useful! Now, my sister, I must leave you. It's been a blessing to have you here with us. Come back soon. Brother Martin will fortify you with some bread and soup before you set forth on your journey – but don't let him keep you gossiping. Your husband will have words to say to us if we detain you so you're still abroad when night falls!'

Chapter
Six

The joy that Madeleine had anticipated in her husband, on being surprised by her early return, was not as apparent as she had hoped and imagined. He did look surprised when he came into the small courtyard at the front of their house, alerted by the sound of the horse and the gate-latch – but he seemed guarded and even faintly defensive, rather than delighted. This irritated Madeleine.
What's the matter with you? Are you not pleased to see me? Would you prefer I go back?
She stifled these words before they had a chance to escape, and gave herself time to reframe the greeting as she slipped down from the saddle, William meanwhile courteously holding the reins for her.

‘I missed you,' she said with a wide, friendly smile, leaning forward to leave a kiss on his cheek; ‘and I thought you might be missing me. So I came home.'

William blinked, but did not immediately reply. ‘Er… good…' he said then, cautiously. ‘Well, I'm glad to see you, but… you could have… are you sure…?'

Oh, for heaven's sake!
Madeleine's inner voice snapped back in impatience, exasperated at his failure to respond to her loving approach, and a little hurt by his lukewarm response. She took a deep breath. ‘Well?' she smiled at him, keeping her tone teasing and playful with some effort. ‘
Did
you miss me?'

He looked at her, a cloud of puzzlement crossing the changeable sky of his eyes. ‘Yes,' he said. ‘Hang on a minute.'

He unstrapped her pack and handed it down to her, then led Nightmare away to the stable where he set out half a bucket of water and some fresh hay, took off all the trappings and rubbed down the sweaty animal. This took more than a quarter of an hour, by which time Madeleine had given up and gone indoors. He seemed, she thought, more taciturn than ever, and she began to regret having come home early. She would have loved to see the new lambs at the abbey, to have spent an hour with Brother Michael in the infirmary, to have enjoyed the peaceful luxury of drifting in the slow current of monastic worship and the pleasure of having all her meals cooked and cleared away by somebody else.

In the house she found everything tidy – careful inspection turned up no signs of anything burnt or broken. The remains of yesterday's loaf gave evidence of instructions faithfully and successfully followed. She tied her apron around her waist and cut two onions from the braided swags that hung in the scullery, taking them to the table to chop for supper. She kept her eyes on the task as she heard the latch click and the following silence that stood in for William's footfall. Then she felt him close behind her, and his hands gentle on her shoulders, turning her round to face him.
Look what you're doing! I've got a knife in my hands!
The warning rose sharp to her lips; but she didn't say it. She didn't say anything. She looked up into his face, stretched up and placed the softest of kisses on his lips.

The perplexity in his face annoyed her. But she continued to smile up at him, and still she said nothing. She let the pause extend.

‘I did miss you,' he admitted then, his voice soft and tender. ‘I missed you dreadfully. I curled up with a pillow, and I buried my face in your shawl, and I wanted you back here with me. Thank you for coming home. I was afraid you might have come back just for fear I'd make a mess of looking after the place without you.'

Too right!
She didn't let that quip escape her mouth either. ‘Sweetheart,' she said, ‘you ran an Augustinian priory, you rescued a Benedictine abbey's finances: I expect you can keep an eye on our home for a while without anyone to nag you. I saw the bread you made. That looks excellent. I thought I'd make a pot of soup to go with what's left.'
Assuming as usual you couldn't be bothered to feed yourself properly at midday and contented yourself with seeing off the cheese
, her inner dialogue continued.