It quickly became obvious that there was no shortage of food in the Abbey. The supper Affreca and the others were given was plain but plentiful and none of the nuns or monks looked particularly starved. Given the treasures she had seen in the church, the flocks of sheep that wandered around the surrounding fields, the tannery and fishery that were both joined to the Abbey, it was clear that these monasteries held considerable wealth.
With a decent amount of food in her belly, saying more prayers were not much of chore. Neither was a session at work spinning wool until it was too dark to continue. Then there were yet more prayers and then it was time for bed again. Tired and full, she had no problem falling asleep in her cot in the nuns’ dormitory.
The nuns were woken at dawn.
In the grey light Affreca looked up to see Osgyth standing above her. A bell was ringing somewhere outside and the other nuns were all dragging themselves from their warm beds.
Osgyth flung a nun’s robe at Affreca.
‘Put that on, Dane, and meet me downstairs in the lavatorium,’ she said, then turned on her heel and left. Affreca got up and looked at the robe. She was well aware how uncomfortable the rough, undyed wool garment was from when she had worn Osgyth’s stolen robe in Jorvik. They had made her give that back and given her a plain linen dress which she had worn ever since. She had no desire to put a nun’s habit back on. She rolled up the dress and squatted over the pot beside her bed to piss while she decided what to do next.
She knew the words of the abbess held truth. If she kept resisting she had a long and painful time ahead. With a sigh she resolved that for the time being she would have to go along with things, at least until she could spot a way that she might escape.
Affreca stood up, rolled the nun’s habit up and put it under her arm. She lifted the warm pot of steaming urine and left the dormitory. She descended the set of wooden steps that led down to the lower floor and out into the cold morning air. There was a wooden building nearby with a stream diverted through it that nuns were going into in various stages of undress. This lavatorium, as Osgyth had referred to it, was clearly some sort of wash house. On the far side, where the dirty water flowed out, was a sluice where other nuns were emptying their under-bed pots and rinsing them.
Affreca went into the wash house. There were big wooden tubs for bathing in. Over a smoky fire a huge cauldron seethed with boiling water. There were bowls and other washing accoutrements around the room. Some nuns were working on bellows that fanned the fire beneath the cauldron to heat it faster.
Sister Osgyth stood, arms folded, in the centre of the room. Beside her was a three-legged wooden stool, the kind used by someone milking a cow. A knife and a pair of shears rested on the seat of the stool. Osgyth was flanked by two burly monks. They looked like they spent more time working in the fields or repairing stone walls than kneeling at prayer.
‘You didn’t put the habit on, I see,’ Osgyth said. ‘As I expected. Brother Edwin, Brother Cuthbert. We must teach this rebellious soul obedience.’
The two monks and Osgyth came forward. Affreca dropped the robe and began to back away. The monks pounced. Affreca side stepped their clumsy grasps and turned to run. She had just taken a couple of steps when she felt a hard smack against the side of her shins. Then something snagged her feet and she was sprawling forwards, face first, onto the floor.
Affreca rolled onto her back and saw Osgyth standing over her, a long-handled broom in her hands. She had snatched this and used it to trip Affreca.
‘Fool,’ the nun said with a tut. ‘Do you think you’re the first girl we’ve had here who didn’t want to be a nun? Bring her!’
The two monks grabbed Affreca by the shoulders and trailed her back to the waiting stool. There they forced her to sit and leaned their considerable weight on her to keep her in position. Affreca kicked, bit and spat but it was futile. The men were just too heavy and strong for her.
‘Now you will become just like the rest of us,’ Osgyth said. Her eyes gleamed with sheer delight. ‘You will dress like us and you will lose those vain locks.’
‘No,’ Affreca screamed. She looked around at the other nuns in the washroom but they just looked away and carried on their own business of washing as if nothing strange was going on.
Osgyth dropped the broom and grabbed the shears. She forced the blades into the neckline of Affreca’s dress and began cutting, half slicing with the shears and half simply ripping the material with the force she applied. Affreca felt the cold metal of the blades running along the skin of her breast and realised that if she struggled too much Osgyth could well slice her flesh along with the dress. In a few moments Osgyth had cut the dress all the way down the front. She grabbed a handful of the material at Affreca’s shoulder and ripped the garment off her body. Affreca felt the hungry eyes of the monks on her as they ogled her naked body, mouths agape. Brother Cuthbert’s tongue lolled out of his mouth. She felt their hot breath on her exposed flesh.
‘Avert your eyes, brothers,’ Osgyth said. ‘Do not let lust enter your hearts. This girl is a child of Satan. A pagan whore. She will steal your very soul if you are not careful. Now hold her fast!’
The monks redoubled their efforts. Affreca bucked and writhed beneath them, trying to loosen their grip in some way but it was futile.
Osgyth grabbed Affreca’s long braided pony tail. Affreca let out an unintelligible scream of anger. Tears of frustration ran from her eyes.
‘Sit still, you Danish bitch,’ Brother Edwin hissed in her ear. ‘Or Osgyth might slip and you’ll lose an ear. Not that I care. The Danes killed my cousin and took my uncle’s land.’
With a snap the shears came together. Osgyth threw Affreca’s severed ponytail onto the floor before her so she could see it. Affreca struggled more but Cuthbert moved and slid his arm around her neck. He tightened his grip and Affreca found she could not breathe. Her throat crushed, she could not make a sound. As Cuthbert held her head still, Osgyth went to work with the shears, cropping Affreca’s auburn hair to her scalp. Affreca saw her hair falling past her eyes as she struggled for air. Black dots started to spin before her vision and she started to pass out.
‘Done! Release her,’ Osgyth said with a sigh of satisfaction. She tossed the shears onto the ground. Brother Cuthbert released his arm lock and Brother Edwin shoved Affreca forwards. She fell off the stool onto the earthen floor, lying naked amid the remnants of her ripped dress and shorn hair. She stayed there for a moment, tears flowing down her cheeks as she recovered her breath. She ran her hands over her head, feeling the close-cropped stubble of her hair and realising it was nearly all gone.
‘Now you’re starting to at least look like a nun,’ Osgyth said. She tossed the nun’s habit down onto Affreca. ‘Get dressed like one. You have work to do.’
Still sobbing, but eager to cover her nakedness, Affreca got to her knees and pulled the rough wool dress over her head. She stood up and brushed herself down.
‘I don’t know why you’re crying,’ Brother Edwin said. ‘This is for your own good.’
Affreca looked at him and saw the smirk on his face. Osgyth stood beside him, a grin of triumph on hers.
With a snarl Affreca dived for the shears on the floor. Edwin moved towards her but he was too late. She snatched the iron tool in both hands and, still lying on the floor, drove them down into Edwin’s right foot. The monk screamed out as the blades sheared through the leather of his sandal and tore through his flesh. Cracking the foot bones apart, the points burst through his sole and buried in the earth of the floor beneath.
Affreca rolled sideways and scrambled up onto her feet. Brother Cuthbert was charging at her. She saw the milking stool. Affreca grabbed it by one leg and swung it with all her might. The stool shattered across Cuthbert’s head. Affreca saw his eyes roll up into his head as his charge turned into a stumble and he collapsed to the ground.
Brother Edwin, his foot still transfixed to the ground, was screaming all sorts of words that Affreca was sure were not appropriate for a monk to use. Sister Osgyth screeched in fury and ran at Affreca. Affreca’s fist smashed into her chin and the older woman staggered sideways, a look of total surprise on her face. Affreca half turned and launched a powerful side kick at the nun, sending her rocketing backwards across the floor. Osgyth’s progress was halted when she collided with the big cauldron. Her feet went into the flames beneath it and with a howl she toppled backwards, falling bottom first into the scalding water.
Affreca knew this was her only chance. Without waiting any further she ran for the door and tore it open. She raced outside into the morning sunlight.
In an instant she knew something was wrong.
Panicking monks and nuns ran this way and that. In contrast to the earlier measured tolling, the bell in the church was now making a frantic ringing. It was an alarm. She saw a monk come stumbling out of the kirk, struggling under the weight of the big gold cross.
Past the kirk and beyond the low perimeter wall where the beach lay, a ship was grounded. Its square sail was furled and its prow was embedded in the sand so the dragon carved on it rose up like a rearing beast from the sea. Affreca knew it was a longship, a ship of war, even before she saw the men clad in mail coats and visored helmets, carrying round shields and sharp, gleaming swords who poured over the strakes. When they hit the sand, they started running straight towards the Abbey.
‘Vikings! Vikings! Run for your lives,’ a monk shouted as he ran past her. His voice was high and hoarse, his face pale as death.
Affreca felt exhilaration surge in her chest. If these were Vikings then they were her people.
Then she looked down and her rough woollen habit. She ran a hand over her close-cropped hair and realised that she was in the middle of a viking raid, and she looked just like all the other nuns in the Abbey.