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“So it is all a lie,” Tor said in amazement. The mother superior nodded her head. If she had just told him the truth, and he was inclined to believe she had, then there were no nightly rituals, let alone ones that involved, and terrified, any male unfortunate enough to still be inside the nunnery walls after sundown. When St Cuthberts had first been established, the safety of the residents had been a major concern and the first mother superior had been unwilling to allow any men to reside in the building, let alone armed guards. It had been one of the local men from the village who had first suggested that rumours be spread and a few of his friends were happy to get them started. They were intentionally vague, allowing those who heard them to use their imaginations to fill in the gaps. Human psychology made the rumours more believable, and more terrifying, when the alleged victims refused to give details.
Whenever strangers arrived at the village, someone made sure they got to hear about what happened to the men. Over the years the rumours spread and mutated. It was not long before everyone in the country could swear blind that a friend of a friend had had the misfortune of staying at St Cuthberts after dark and was never the same again. Men became so terrified that most avoided the place during the day, let alone at night. Occasionally a man would be brave, or desperate, enough to seek sanctuary within the nunnery walls and each and every one of them agreed to help keep the rumour alive. When they departed, they would immediately head to the nearest inn and drink vast amounts of alcohol, refusing to speak about their experiences.
“Your secret is safe with me,” Tor assured her. “I will not say anything to anyone, not even my brothers.”
“I know,” she replied. “If I felt you could not be trusted, I would not have answered your question and would have made sure you vacated the premises a while ago.”
Tor began looking at Emily in a new light. She looked like a small and friendly grandmother, but beneath her frail exterior was an extremely shrewd mind. He was beginning to realise why she was in charge. He decided to change the subject. “Are my friends having much luck?” he enquired.
“Not yet,” she confirmed, “but they now have some help. My fellow sisters tend to spend a lot of their spare time in the library and a number of them have begun to aid in the search.” Tor nodded. He would willingly accept any assistance that was offered. “We will find what you seek,” she assured him. “If there is anything to find, that is.” Tor tried to suppress his groan. That last comment was not needed.
––––––––
Night had well and truly set in by the time one of the sisters suggested that the ladies give it a rest until the morning. They were all tired and found themselves frequently having to re-read passages a number of times before they took in what was written. Lots of potential leads had been found, but all had turned out to be dead ends. Frustration was beginning to set in, so when retiring for the night was suggested, it was enthusiastically welcomed.
“I wonder if Tor is still here,” Ria said to Ellen as they were escorted to the dormitory that had been made up for them.
“He is a resourceful man. He would have found a way of getting out of here before darkness set in,” she said confidently.
“Pity,” Ria replied, a sly smile on her face. Ellen cast her a questioning glance, but she refused to explain her comment.
The room they were shown to was long and narrow, containing a dozen beds, all neatly made and covered in warm looking blankets. There was no other furniture, not even a chest of drawers or a chair. A door at the far end led to a smaller room containing jugs full of water and basins. They were politely informed that, though they were guests and were welcome to leave the room before sun up, it would be appreciated if they remained where they were until one of the sisters arrived to escort them to the dining room for breakfast.
“I feel like I have just joined the military,” Sam said under her breath once they were alone. “The layout of this room reminds me of army barracks in every war film I have ever seen. I bet whoever is in charge of the dormitories bounces a coin off the beds to see if they have been correctly made or not.”
She received no comment as nobody was listening. They had each selected a bed and had collapsed onto it. Sam sighed and walked to the nearest free bed, lifted up the pillow and exclaimed in surprise. A nightgown had been placed underneath, made from a material that was almost smooth enough to be silk. She held it up against her, measuring it for size, and found it was almost a perfect fit.
“I take back everything I just said,” she continued to say to herself as she removed her clothes, dumped them on the floor and slipped the garment over her head. Looking round she noticed that everyone had followed her lead, except they were all neatly folding their own clothes and placing them on a spare bed. Feeling a little guilty, she quickly picked hers up from the floor and did the same.
There were a few small issues, like Ria’s nightgown did not even reach her knees while River’s dragged on the floor, but none of them were going to complain; they were too happy not having to sleep in their own clothing to care about such small problems. Sam went to the wash room to wash her hands and face and by the time she returned the others were all asleep. A number of the lamps that lit the room had been turned down low, leaving just enough light for Sam to see by as she returned to her bed. She lowered the flame on the one nearest to her, slipped under the covers and closed her eyes.
It was still dark when she awoke. She looked around her, trying to work out where she was, slightly panicked to find she was alone in the bed. Where was Brin? As the last remnants of sleep left her, her memory returned.
The lamps still glowed faintly and she could just make out the sleeping forms of Liselle, River, Ria and Dallen. Ellen’s bed was empty. Sam strained her ears, trying to hear if the missing woman was in the wash room, but the room was silent. Puzzled, Sam got out of bed and put her cloak on over her nightgown. While the temperature outside was still quite mild, the building was made entirely of stone and the inside of the room held a slight chill. Taking down one of the lamps, she headed to the door, swearing quietly as it creaked when she opened it.
There was no sign of life outside and she was about to go back into the dormitory, unsure as to where she could even begin to look for Ellen, when the silence of the hallway was broken by a scream. It was not loud, but muffled as though it was passing through a number of walls. In the silence of the corridor it was still enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
She stood for a moment, unsure what to do. They had all been requested to remain in the room, but Ellen was missing and curiosity as to the source of the scream, the night time rituals it may be connected to and whether Tor was involved, began to overwhelm her. The second scream made up her mind. If Tor was in trouble it was her duty to help him in any way she could.
She gently closed the door and headed off in the direction she thought the sound was coming from. She had not gone far when another scream rang out. This time it was slightly louder and distinctly female. Sam turned a corner and found her way blocked by a large wooden door. Nervously looking around to make sure she was still alone, she gently pushed against it. It swung open easily and quietly, taking her by surprise. She had been expecting it to either be locked or too heavy to move, so she was caught off balance and almost fell down the stairs beyond.
The stone steps, which spiralled downwards, were cold against her bare feet and she silently chided herself for not putting on her shoes before leaving the dormitory. Shivering due to the eeriness of the dark stairwell as well as the cold, she began to slowly descend. The screams continued at regular intervals and increased in volume as she made her way downwards, indicating she was heading in the right direction. Suddenly she remembered that she had left the door open and paused momentarily, considering whether to ascend once more and close it, but before she could commence her climb she heard another voice call out. This one she easily recognised. Ellen.
She increased her pace until she was almost running down the remaining stairs, heedless of the danger of losing her footing. The temperature was mysteriously increasing, causing beads of sweat to drip from her forehead and into her eyes. Unable to see, she was forced to slow down. This saved her from stumbling directly into the black clad figure which loomed in front of her the moment she took the last step.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” a harsh voice rasped at her. Sam tried to reply, but her mouth had gone dry.
“It is alright,” she heard Ellen’s voice call out. “She is with me. Please let her in.”
The figure moved aside and Sam nervously stepped into a large room, lit solely by a fire burning in the fireplace. Heat assaulted her as she approached Ellen, who was seated on the floor beside a young woman who was covered in blankets. Sweat was pouring from both of their bodies.
“There is a bowl of cold water beside you,” Ellen said without looking up. “Please wipe her forehead with a damp cloth.”
Sam willingly complied, her questions remaining unspoken for the time being. In the end she did not need to ask anything; Ellen filled the silence with a complete explanation. The young woman, who was now barely conscious, was the source of the screaming.
“This young lady is the sorceress,” Ellen introduced, “and this is one of the side effects of being able to wield her power. She will go through this two or three times a year for the rest of her life, until one of these episodes eventually kills her.”
“What is happening to her?” Sam asked, both appalled and fascinated at the same time.
“Her body is trying to reject her magic, attempting to expel it like it was a foetus ready to be born. The pain is said to be very similar to labour.”
Sam had never given birth, having miscarried her only child, but she had heard, read and seen enough about the experience to feel more than just sympathy for the young sorceress. Every mother she had ever spoken to had said the result of the pain made it all worthwhile. She could not even begin to imagine going through that with no end result. The only thing she could think of that would be worse was giving birth to a still born. She shivered and dragged her mind away from that train of thought.
Ellen continued her explanation. With each scream, which had thankfully now subsided, the sorceress released some of her magical force and it had been that which had disturbed Ellen. She likened the feeling of the force hitting her to running straight into a wall; it was physically strong enough to push her backwards. Recognising what was assaulting her, she had sought out the source and was doing all she could to help the sorceress through it.
“I have been speaking to some of the sisters. Usually this lasts a few days and the sorceress is close to dying from exhaustion by the time it has passed.” She sounded tired herself, as well as extremely sad. “I have given her a sedative, the only one I know that is powerful enough to work on her, so she should now sleep until the episode is over. I will need to teach some of the nuns how to brew it as it may help her live longer.”
“How long does she have?” Sam asked, unsure that she really wanted to know the answer.
“I give her another year or two. If the sisters can keep her sedated during these traumatic times, she may survive for as long as five years, but that is a long shot.”
Sam was horrified. “But she is so young. Isn’t there anything anyone can do?”
Ellen shook her head sadly. Placing a hand gently on her patient’s forehead, she nodded to herself and called over one of the nuns. “She should sleep for a while now,” she explained. “Keep her warm. Though she is sweating now, her body is too weak to heat itself and she will die of hypothermia if she is allowed to cool down. Keep blankets on her at all times and make sure the fire does not die down. Force as much water down her throat as you can, but do not let her choke on it. I am going back to bed.”
The nun quietly thanked Ellen for all she had done, her harsh voice softening as she spoke. The sorceress was a much loved member of their small community and they all suffered greatly when they saw or heard her in such pain. She said she would seek Ellen out in the morning so she could learn how to brew the sedative. Ellen nodded her head, too tired to reply; being continually assaulted by the magical forces the sorceress had been expelling had drained her a lot more than she cared to admit. Sam escorted her back to the dormitory, one hand under her elbow and the other around her waist, frightened that her legs would give way at any moment.
As they approached the dormitory door, Ellen stopped. “Please do not mention this to anyone,” she almost pleaded. “Not many outside the magical community know what a sorceress has to go through, or how vulnerable they are at this time, and we would all like to keep it as quiet as possible. There are those who would use this knowledge to their advantage and many sorceresses would be made to suffer even more than they already do.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Sam assured her before leading her into the room and tucking her up in bed. Ellen was asleep before Sam reached her own bed. The rest of the night passed uneventfully and when she woke up, Sam wondered if it had been a dream. One look at Ellen’s face, however, confirmed that it had really happened.
Breakfast was quickly eaten and then they all returned to the library. Part way through the morning, Ellen was mysteriously called away, but when she returned a few hours later she refused to explain what she had been doing. Everyone except Sam was curious, but respected Ellen’s privacy and did not question her. They knew that Ellen would tell them if she was able to.
As they performed their research, conversation turned once more to the nightly rituals that were said to take place at St Cuthberts. “I slept right through,” River said, “so I have no idea if anything happened last night or not.”
“Do you think they drugged us to make sure we slept?” Ria asked.
“I doubt it.” Sam caught Ellen’s eye as she spoke and noticed a slight smile cross her face.
“So do you think Tor was subjected to anything last night?” Ria continued.
“There is only one way to find out,” Ellen said in an even tone. Ria raised a questioning eyebrow. “Ask him,” Ellen informed her.
“I think I will,” Ria replied before returning to the book she was browsing.
––––––––
Tor had passed an uneventful night in the mother superior’s quarters. She had offered him her bed, saying she had spent more than one night curled up on the cushions on the floor, but he had refused. He was too much of a gentleman to allow a lady, especially an elderly one, to sleep on the floor while he slept in a bed. The cushions had turned out to be surprisingly comfortable and he had slept through the entire night without waking. He had only been up for a short while before breakfast was delivered. He spent the morning being shown around the grounds by one of the sisters. Though he saw many nuns, none approached or spoke to him. They appeared neither frightened nor curious about his presence and he began to wonder if Emily had been entirely honest in her explanation as to why he had to remain in her rooms the previous day.
He opted to take his midday meal in the dining room in order to catch up with his friends. He wanted to make sure they were being well cared for and was anxious to hear how their search was progressing. He was deeply disappointed when he was informed that they still had no leads, but he did not let it show.
“So how was your evening?” Ria asked him, her face breaking into a sly smile.
“Fine,” he replied tersely. “And yours?”
“Fine. Did you sleep well?”
“Fine,” he said abruptly.
“So you were not disturbed in the night at all?”
Tor looked at her coldly. “I do not want to talk about it,” he said in a flat voice before standing up and storming out of the dining room. He halted just outside the door, expecting to hear laughter ring out and was surprised, and slightly disturbed, to find the room filled with an uncomfortable silence. He hated lying to his friends, but it was necessary if he was to keep St Cuthberts’s secret.
Tor’s reaction was the last thing Ria had been expecting and she was at a loss for words. She broke off a chunk of bread and took a bite, but found herself unable to swallow. She had only been teasing Tor, not thinking for a moment that anything had actually happened to him the previous night. Now she was not so sure and this deeply disturbed her. None of those seated at her table would look at her, for which she was grateful. They all knew she had not meant to upset the Prince and could sympathise with how she was feeling.
Nobody felt like eating any more, though there was still plenty of food on the table, so by silent agreement they returned to the library and occupied their minds with finding and reading books. All of the nuns were going about their chores so they were on their own once more and the pace was painfully slow. It felt like for every book they got through, two more appeared to take its place and the runners were exhausted from delivering then returning books to their correct place, all under the watchful eye of the librarian. It came as a blessed relief when one of them finally found something.
“I think I have it,” Dal called out in an excited voice. Those who were reading at other tables looked up at her. Reading aloud from the book in front of her, Dal quoted, “And from that day forth the post of the Bard was handed down from father to son and was most revered of all of the posts held within the city walls.”
“What is that you are reading?” Ria queried.
“It is actually a book of fables, written by an author from Kavern. It is full of made up stories, but each seems to explain why something happens. One, for example, tells us why the sun rises each morning.”
“So you think that this particular fable is explaining how the post of Bard came about?” Ellen asked, sitting next to Dal and placing the bundle of books she had just walked in with onto the table. “What else does it say?”
Dal explained the general outline of the story, ending with the fact that the Bard’s job was to memorise historical tales and recite them at a different part of the city each night, so as to ensure that all of the children got to hear them.
“It is a possibility,” Ellen said, a touch of doubt in her voice. “Though whether the tradition still exists is another matter. However, I think you should go and find Tor while the rest of us continue looking.”
They all concurred, so Dal was escorted to the mother superior’s office by one of the nuns. Tor had retreated there after he had left the dining room so abruptly, not in the mood for further sightseeing. He did not relish the thought of having to face his friends again so soon, feeling he had misled them badly, but the news Dal brought overruled his feelings and he followed her to the library to read the fable for himself.
The ladies watched him in silence as he read the story, his face betraying no reactions. Eventually he got to the end and closed the book. “If this story is to be believed,” he said gravely, “then all we need to do is go to Kavern and ask to see the Bard. We have had less than that to go on with some of the other clues. I think we should take a gamble and head off as soon as possible. Does everyone agree?”