I had a good supply of oil, and it did not take long to prepare several bottles of the warming rub, diluting Edild’s remedy in the proportion she had instructed. Then I set to preparing myself.
I always carry lengths of clean, white cloth folded at the bottom of my satchel, for use as dressings and bandages. Hoping I had some large pieces, I spread them out and soon found what I wanted. Then I took my knife and, with its sharp point, cut out the shapes I needed. I fetched needle and thread and sewed the seams, testing the fit and, when I was satisfied, neatly hemming the raw edges. Then I unbraided my hair, brushed it back off my face and wound it in a tight, severe bun at the back of my head. I put on the wimple I had just fashioned, relieved to find how closely it framed my face. I put my cloak on over my gown and pulled up the wide folds of my hood; the fabric was dark, the material inexpensive and, like all my clothes, well worn. I stood up, wishing I could see what I looked like and fervently hoping that I looked sufficiently like my sister Elfritha: like a nun. I did not suppose I would have fooled one of Elfritha’s superiors, but I trusted that the average Ely monk would only have a sketchy idea of what a Benedictine sister wore.
I knew, because they had told me, that the monks did not let women inside the abbey without a good reason. Did the same rule apply to nuns?
I was just about to find out.
The monk on duty at the abbey gate greeted me with a smile and said, ‘Good day, sister, what can we do for you?’ which was promising.
‘Good day to you, brother,’ I replied, careful to keep my eyes cast down. ‘I have been sent with supplies of a new remedy for the joint and muscle pains that torment so many of the elder members of our community.’ So far, I had spoken the truth, except that nobody had actually sent me. ‘Many of the sisterhood are badly afflicted in this persistent wet weather — ’ that too was true; Elfritha had mentioned it last time I had visited her — ‘and if I may help any of the brethren, then I would dearly like to do so.’ I was a healer; I wanted to alleviate suffering wherever I found it.
The monk was looking at me with interest. ‘A new remedy, you say?’ I nodded. I had noticed that nuns didn’t speak unnecessarily. ‘Your own creation?’
‘No.’ I smiled modestly, as if to imply that I was far too lowly to be allowed free rein to experiment in the herb store.
‘Many of the older brethren suffer greatly,’ the monk said. He paused, then said, ‘You may enter.’
He ushered me inside a tiny room just inside the gate and, calling out to a monk emerging from one of the buildings, asked him to fetch someone called Brother Philius. I waited, trying to make my face calm. Elfritha’s fellow nuns always manage to look serene, as if they’re confidently waiting for something lovely that’s just about to happen.
Brother Philius appeared. He was young, dark-eyed and quite short, with a restless air as if he was eager to get on with God’s work. He bustled into the little room, his energy instantly making it feel cramped. ‘Sister-?’
I bowed my head. ‘Sister Hilde.’
‘You have brought a new remedy for damp-induced pains, I’m told?’ Already, he was hurrying me out of the room and marching off in the direction of a passageway that ran between two low buildings.
Thankful that his professionalism had made him ask straight away about the remedy, where I was on safe ground, rather than my credentials as a nun, where I most certainly was not, I agreed that I had.
Brother Philius fired questions at me as we marched, and I described the different elements that Edild and I had prepared for the remedy. When he got down to the exact proportions of these elements and the details of how they were blended, I had to confess ignorance. Edild had not permitted me to watch, although this was, I was pretty sure, because she had uttered a power spell as she worked and it was dangerous for someone as inexperienced as I to listen.
I certainly wasn’t going to tell Brother Philius about that.
We had reached a small building tucked away behind the clamour of where the men were working on the new cathedral. With a wry smile, Brother Philius opened the door and said, ‘Come in. It’s remarkably peaceful in here, given the present circumstances.’
I preceded him into the room. It was long and narrow, with three simple cots down each side. A fire burned in a hearth at the far end of the room, making the temperature pleasantly warm. Two of cots were occupied by very old monks.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Brother Philius muttered. I thought he sounded furtive, almost guilty. Wondering why, and also wondering what he thought I was thinking, I did not speak but sent him an enquiring look, eyebrows raised. ‘It’s a great luxury to have the fire,’ he said, ‘and in truth there is no need of it for someone like me, blessed as I am with good health and vigour.’ He leaned closer and I caught his smell — of herbs, oils, incense and all things clean, which was so typical of healers. I bent my head to hide a smile; I liked Brother Philius. ‘The warmth is for the old ones,’ he whispered. ‘They are both very poorly. They protest sometimes, for they have spent all the years of their adult lives vowed to poverty, but we tell them that the heat aids them and so releases those who nurse them for other duties.’
Yes, it made sense. It was clever to have manipulated the old men’s instinctive selflessness in such a way. ‘Wet and cold are the true causes of their pain, are they not?’ Brother Philius added, sighing. ‘And here we are on an island in the midst of water.’
I opened my satchel and took out a bottle of the new remedy. I held it up and Brother Philius, his face eager, took it from me. He drew the stopper and, tentatively at first, sniffed at the contents. A slow smile spread over his face. ‘I can almost smell the potency!’ he said softly.
Again, I had to hide a smile. Edild had explained how the energy that the healing spirits bring can be captured in a remedy and that it bursts out, eager to get to work, when the jar or bottle is opened.
Brother Philius was striding over to the patient in the cot to his left. ‘Brother Anselm, we have a treat for you!’ he exclaimed as the old man struggled to sit up. ‘The sister here has kindly brought a new remedy, and I’m going to try it out on your hip!’
Either Brother Philius had forgotten that, although garbed as a nun, I was still a woman, or else he was treating me as a fellow healer used to bare male flesh. Whichever it was, he swiftly unfastened the old man’s robe and pushed it down so that it sagged below his hips. Brother Anselm rolled over on to his side and I had a glimpse of his aged genitals beneath the fringe of white hair. Then the scent of Edild’s new remedy filled the air, and I watched, fascinated, as the hands of a true healer got to work.
You could tell from Brother Anselm’s groans of pain that quickly turned to moans of pleasure that the remedy and the strong hands were doing good. Brother Philius was clearly impressed. After only a short while he turned to me with a huge grin and said, ‘Whoever made this is all but a miracle worker!’ I saved that up to tell Edild. He returned to his work but then, as if the thought had suddenly struck him, he spun round again and said, ‘Have a go at Brother Matthias over there.’ He indicated the monk in the opposite cot. ‘His pain is in his left shoulder,’ he panted — massage is hard work — ‘extending up into his neck and down under the shoulder blade.’