At some point during the very long night, Lydia fell asleep. A cock crow woke her. Amazed she was still alive, she burrowed out of the haystack. Morning’s first light colored the sky. Her stomach rumbled. She had not eaten since yesterday morning. After checking her candles, she ate bread and sipped wine. It was like Eucharist without Father Peter. Feeling some what revived, she surveyed her situation. There was no way of knowing where those men were. None. Her best recourse was make her way toward the road without being seen. The dew was heavy and the dirt damp. She would be filthy by the time she reached the road.

Placing her bag on her back she set off, sliding across the ground like a serpent. It was tough going. The serpent in Eden must have missed his legs terribly, after God took them away.Caught in a clump of grass, a bit of parchment fluttered. Surely it could not be? Had the wind tossed it back into her path? She scooted toward it. Wet though it was, the words had not run or faded on her letter of recommendation. This was a miracle! She offered a word of thanks to the clear blue sky, folded her letter and put it in her candle box.By the time she reached the road she was indeed chilled and filthy. She tucked her braid into her tunic and hoped for the best. Now, how far to Romsey? It depended upon her speed. After her slow crawl she felt like running, but she knew it was unwise to rush. As she made her way down the road, her eyes darted in all directions. Her heart did not beat at its usual rate. Every bird that sang, every fly that buzzed startled her. Under the big morning sky, she felt so alone, exposed and vulnerable. A few nobles on horseback passed. A couple of farmers and their wives in carts did too. No one gave Lydia any notice. She was just another tramp on the road.

It was afternoon when she reached Romsey. The first thing she saw was the Abbey Church. It rose above all else. It was an impressive stone structure and quite beautiful in its lines. A strange sense of awe over took her. The daughters of kings and noblemen were educated here. Soon she would see some of the bluest blooded females ever born.

At the Abbey gate she stopped. If she proceeded with her candles they would be taken away from her. They were her last tie to her mother. She would not give them up. She must hide them, but where? Near the wall she saw a gardener's hut. Its door was open. Would her candles be safe there?Keeping hidden in the shadow of the wall she crept to the hut. At the door she listened. It did not sound like anyone was inside. Slowly and carefully she eased through the open door. The hut was empty. Tools and seeds were neatly arranged on shelves. Where to put her candles? As she turned around searching her foot made a peculiar sound on one of the paving stones. She knelt down and tapped it. It sounded hollow. With grubby fingers she pried the stone up. A small hollow was beneath the stone. It was just the right sized for her box. Had God provided? Perhaps.

She took her letter of recommendation from her candle box, breathed in the honey scent of her candles and then carefully closed the box. After she stripped out of the boy clothes, she put on her dress, wrapped the box in the boys clothes, and placed them in the hollow. She put the stone back in its place and gently tapped it down. At the door, she peeked out. All was still. The sweet perfume of the garden herbs filled the air. She stepped onto the path that lead to the Abbey.

Two nuns carrying a baskets filled with eggs entered the Abbey gate. They were dressed in gray wool gowns. Their bodies and hair were modestly covered, only their faces and hands showed. Suddenly Lydia became aware of how confining such a costume would be. Her own dress hindered her as she walked toward them. Last night it would have gotten her killed. Those men who chased her, where were they now, and who were they? Fear pressed in on her. Suddenly very afraid, she called out to the nuns, "Can you tell me where to find Mother Therese?"

Like one being the nuns turned toward her. They nodded and motioned for her to follow them. They took her across the lawn to the South Abbess door of the church. Above the door the body of Christ was carved. Deep shadows were cast upon his face by the sun. His arms were outstretched. Lydia shivered. One of the nuns knocked on the door. A voice said, "Come in."

Lydia entered. The woman who rose from her knees was very thin, too thin. This was a woman devoted to too much fasting. Why did God want the faithful to starve themselves?

Mother Therese dismissed the two nuns. Silently they closed the door behind them. The instant they were gone Mother Therese’s eyes took hold of Lydia. They had deep hollows beneath them. In a single sweep over her person they seemed to estimate Lydia's character and the depth of her soul. Uncomfortable and unsure of what was expected of her, Lydia thrust the letter forward. Mother Therese took it and slowly read it. When she finished she asked, “So you have experienced the calling of God?”

A lie was the most expedient response, it was the one she knew Father Peter and her aunt expected. It would keep her from Jacob. It also might keep her safe from those men who had chased her last night. In a wavering voice she said, “Aye.”

Mother Therese looked at her coldly. “Truth? Are you with child or escaping an unwanted match?"

Unable to answer Lydia stood mute and stared. She felt sweat forming in her palms. This woman was terrifying.

Mother Therese shook her head. "Not pregnant. A bad match? A life of faith is not easier or harder than a life as a married woman, it is just different. Are you sure you want this?”

Lydia doubted a nun could understand the full weight of a married woman’s burden. "Aye."

"All right then. Now, tell me about this bad match and why you are here."

Instinctively Lydia knew the story of Jacob Higden would not impress this woman. So, in a rush of words she told the story of the hanging. When she finished Mother Therese bit her lip for several seconds before she spoke. “I think it would be wise not to share this with anyone else. It is a matter between men. Your word would not stand up against any man’s, especially a noble’s. The laws of men are tipped in man’s favor and man's destruction.”

“But what if they find me here?”

“Dressed as a novice you will not be easily recognized. The rest we must leave to God.” Mother Therese eyes returned to the letter of recommendation. “Father Peter seems to think you are quite intelligent. I can tell by the way that you speak, you have a good command of language and a sharpness of perception. We shall see.”

*

In the novice quarters, mice skittered around the floor and ran up the walls. Lydia hated mice. A girl named, Susanna slept on the cot beside her. Her presence was some comfort to her, as were the four walls that kept the bad men out. Still the night pressed in on her. She felt miserably homesick. She wanted her own bed, her own place. She wanted her mother. More than anything in the whole world she wanted her mother. Her throat ached with restrained sobs. If only she could go home. Home had died with her mother. It did not exist anymore.

She rubbed her hand over her cropped hair. Her hair had been pretty, now it too was gone. It seemed God intended to take everything from her. Silent tears slipped from her eyes until the heavy hand of sleep began to pull her under. She was drifting, drifting…

An open field spread before her. The sun was setting. Two large bonfires burned. There were lots of people. Fat cows and skinny cows with fear filled eyes stood in a long line passing between the bonfires. The crowd was drunk and loud. Lydia did not like it. She rushed to the outer edge of the field. A cold wind began to blow. Lydia looked up and saw Bab flying across the sky. Her face was puffed up and from her cracked lips an icy wind blew. It chilled Lydia to her core.

From the forest came the sound of singing. Lydia recognized the voice, it was her mother’s. She was singing a lullaby. Lydia followed the sound of the voice. It lead her deeper and deeper into the woods. Above her, stars began to dot the sky. Ahead of her she saw a pale blue light. The sound of singing grew stronger. Quickly she ran for the light. In a small clearing her mother sat. She was glowing blue in the darkness. Around her were seven blue lit girls, all soundly sleeping. In her mother's arms was a child emitting golden light. Though afraid, Lydia crept closer. Her mother smiled at her and held out the child.

Lydia took the little girl in her arms. Her skin was so soft, her face round and large. She squirmed in her sleep and then she opened her eyes. Her brown eyes were the same shape and color as someone’s. Whose...she could not remember whose, but this baby was HERS! What did this mean? Her mother must not take her baby to heaven. She must get away! Without another thought, she turned and ran. She ran as hard and fast as she could, but she could not escape the sound of her mother’s voice singing. Her mother would catch her. Her mother would make her baby dead too.

Suddenly Lydia felt herself falling and falling. The baby disappeared from her arms, but the warmth of the child remained in her soul. She awoke with a start. Day had come again.