Read Saint Brigid's Bones Online
Authors: Philip Freeman
Saint Brigid's Bones
For Alison
IRELAND
SAINT BRIGID'S BONES
I
never meant to burn down the church.
That's what I kept telling myself as I stood in front of Sister Anna's hut.
It was a cool morning for mid October and dark clouds from the west threatened rain at any moment. Sister Anna was the abbess of the monastery of holy Brigid at Kildare. Her hut was a small structure made of rough-hewn grey stone with a thatch roof. When Brigid was alive she had cultivated a patch of bluebells and golden buttercups in front that made the place seem quite cheerful. But now the flowers were gone and nothing but a cold stone bench stood beside the wooden door.
I took a deep breath and knocked. I prayed that God would have mercy on my soul, for I knew Sister Anna would not.
“Come in.”
I pushed open the door and stooped to enter the hut, careful to close the door gently behind me. Sister Anna sat at her desk
beneath the single window in back writing on a piece of parchment. She did not look up.
The abbess was a woman of about sixty with white hair and dark eyes. She wasn't wearing her veil on her head at the moment, but this wasn't unusual as we seldom did so unless we were at worship. Like all the sisters, her tunic was of undyed wool spun and woven into a simple cloth and tied around the waist with a leather belt. We looked quite similar to women of the druidic order except that their clothing was bleached white and each wore a small golden torque around her neck. Instead of a torque, we wore a plain wooden cross.
Sister Anna wrote with her left hand, which was understandable as her right arm hung uselessly at her side. The right side of her face was also deeply scarred, obviously from some accident years ago, but she never spoke of it and no one dared to ask. To say she was stern would have been an understatement, but I had a great deal of respect for her, as did the other sisters. I don't believe I had ever seen her smile. She was a devout Christian woman and an able leader. Her style was different from that of Brigid, but in the decade since our founder had died she had held the monastery together and continued our mission against formidable odds.
“Sister Deirdre, come and stand before my desk where I can see you better.”
Even after her many years in Ireland, I could always hear a faint British accent in her voice. I moved into the hut and stood where she told me.
“Brother Fiach has told me what happened at the church at Sleaty, but I want to hear what you have to say. Tell me, but keep it brief, if that is possible for you.”
I cleared my throat and began.
“As you know, I left our monastery a few days ago with two of the sisters to finish preparations for the new church at Sleaty
across the Barrow River. We arrived just as the tenant farmers from the monastery, who had been helping with the construction, were leaving to return here for the harvest. Brother Fiach had stayed to finish carving the stone cross in front of the church. He had used some of the stones from the old Roman trading post there. Of course, the last of the Roman merchants left years ago afterâ”
“I said brief, Sister Deirdre. I don't need a history lesson.”
“Yes, I'm sorry. Well, Brother Fiach was putting the final touches on the cross when we arrived. He had finished the wooden altar the previous day as well as the beds in the back room for the sisters who would be staying there through the winter. I was impressed that everything had been made from solid oak, like our church here. The Sleaty church could hold at least thirty worshippers standing close together. Father Ailbe once told me that in one of the churches he visited in Rome, the wealthy parishioners actually sat on wooden pews, though I really can't imagine why theyâ”
“Sister Deirdre!”
“Yes, brief, I'm sorry, Sister Anna. Well, I couldn't sleep that night, even though I was exhausted, so after the others went to bed I went into the church and lit a candle on the altar. I knew that we didn't have many candles left and it was a terrible waste, not to mention dangerous with all the sawdust still around, but I needed to pray and the light in the darkness helped. While I knelt there, I admired the linen cloth on the altar that had been embroidered by Brigid herself. It was bordered with intricate, interlaced patterns in green and gold along the edges, with fantastic, richly colored animals and angels dancing in the center. I thought it was a beautiful adornment for the new church. I was also thinking how proud Brigid would have been of the work we had done.”
I paused for a moment, thinking of how much I had loved looking at that cloth in our church at Kildare since I was a little girl. I knew many had attributed healing powers to it.
“Continue, Sister Deirdre.”
“Well, I prayed at the altar for a long time. I thought I heard something at one point and went outside to check, but there was no one there, so I went back inside. It must have been the flickering shadows on the walls that finally lulled me to sleep. The next thing I knew Brother Fiach was dragging me out the church door. I was coughing and choking and could barely see anything with all the smoke around me. I suddenly remembered the altar cloth of Brigid and started back into the church to get it, but Fiach pulled me away. I kicked him and screamed that I had to find the cloth, but thankfully he didn't let go. I would have died if he hadn't held me back. The two sisters were running with buckets to bring water from the well, even though it was clearly hopeless. The fire was devouring the freshly-cut oak and had turned the church into a raging inferno. There was nothing the four of us could do but fall on our knees as we watched the church burn. We huddled together all night beside the stone cross, warming ourselves on the embers of the dying fire with a single blanket wrapped around us. By morning there were only smoking ruins.”
For a long time Sister Anna simply looked at me without saying a word. I swallowed hard and braced myself for the storm I knew was coming. Then at last she spoke.
“Needless to say, I am most disappointed.”
“I'm so sorry, Sister Anna, I didn't mean toâ”
“Sister Deirdre, for once be quiet and listen to me.”
I nodded with my head bowed and allowed her to continue.
“I have sent a message to King Bran, who owns the lands at Sleaty, to let him know what happened and to ask that we might be allowed to begin again in the spring. I hold out little hope that he will grant this request. The agreement to lease his land specified that the church must be completed by the end of October. Bran is not a forgiving man, therefore we must
consider the project at Sleaty effectively dead. There will be no mission in Munster and no support for the monastery from that source.”
I continued to stand silently.
“You're an intelligent woman, so I won't explain to you what that loss means for us. Do you see this abacus on my desk?”
I nodded that I did.
“Let me just say that I have been calculating how long we can continue operating with our current supplies and projected harvest. If my figures are correct, we'll begin running low on food this coming spring and will have to start turning the needy away, the first time we have done so in the fifty years since Brigid founded this monastery. Perhaps the donations from pilgrims at holy Brigid's day in February will be large enough to see us through the summer, though I doubt it. I was counting on the harvest from the new church at Sleaty to supplement our stores beginning next autumn. Now there will be nothing.”
She stood up and walked from behind her desk to stand in front of me. She was a small woman, but her presence more than made up for her stature.
“Brother Fiach has taken full responsibility for what happened at Sleaty.”
I started to protest but she raised her hand.
“No, don't speak. I'm not interested in assigning blame. I know how the fire began, but it's too late to change that now. I am not going to punish you.”
I must have looked shocked.
“Oh, I know you'd like me to put you on bread and water until Easter or some such penance, but frankly, Sister Deirdre, I fail to see what good that would do. Instead, let me ask you a question and I expect an honest answer: Are you happy here at the monastery?”
I had never heard the abbess ask anyone if they were happy before.
“Yes, Sister Anna. I've spent most of my life here, when I wasn't with my grandmother just down the road. I grew up with Brigid and the sisters and Father Ailbe. I know I only took vows three years ago, but this place is my home.”
“Somehow, I don't think you're being honest with meâor yourself. You grew up here, indeed, but you grew up in another world of druids and bards as well. I don't doubt that you are trying to be a good Christian, but I'm not convinced you want to be a nun. I can't help wondering if you came to us at a time of tragedy in your life because we were convenient.”
There was too much truth in what she said for me to deny it outright, but it was more complicated than she made it seem. At least I hoped so.