Outside the morning bells began to ring. Lydia slipped out of her nightgown and into the linen shift. Over the shift she pulled her novice dress. It was dark grey wool, soft and light. Grateful for the kerchief that covered her shorn head, she followed Susanna to church. Not a single word did they speak as they hurried. Speech was not allowed until after breakfast. At home Moder had observed this same custom and it was not one that Lydia liked. She was hungry and her stomach was making quite a fuss. Inside the church, Susanna picked a pew near the wall. The nuns filed in, they moved as a single body, so fluid and purposeful.

Behind the nuns came the nobles. Susanna grasped Lydia’s arm and whispered, “Just look out the corner of your eye. Look at them pearls!”

Lydia did as she was told. In her imagination all nobles were as beautiful as Lady Bolton. These girls were not. Money had bought them fine clothes, pearls for their ears and gold chains for their throats, but it could not buy them looks. Their heads were covered, their eyes down cast, and yet Lydia felt they were watching her as she was watching them. Next came the light bearers and last of all the priest. He was a scrawny man with a stern face. Lydia watched the light bearers touch their flaming torches to the candle wicks of the altar candles. The flames were beautiful. Who had dipped these candles?

The priest began Mass. His Mass sounded nothing like Father Peter's Mass. He recited it as if he was reciting a grocery list. Over his bored words, the earnest voice of Father Peter rose in Lydia's mind. Father Peter gave life to the sacred words while this abbey priest killed the words.

After Mass, after breakfast, finally allowed to speak, Susanna said, “We go to Sister Timothy now. She directs our Novitiate. I am so glad you are here. Sitting with that old, pudding of nun by myself has been life stranglin'.”

Shocked by Susanna’s disrespect, Lydia’s mouth dropped open.

A wicked grin of delight crinkled Susanna’s lips. “Close your mouth little bird and come on.”

The pudding of a nun was in fact a slightly plump older woman with gentle and intelligent eyes. She said, “Good morning Lydia, I trust you slept well.”

It would be best not to lie to a nun. “Nay Sister, I did not.”

“Was it the mice?'

In part it had been the mice, so perhaps a partial truth was better than nothing. Lydia responded, "Aye."

Sister Timothy smiled and said, “They too are creatures of God’s design.”

“They are vermin,” contradicted Susanna.

“That is enough Susanna. Girls go take your seats.”

When Lydia turned to take her seat she was not prepared for what she saw. Painted on the wall, was the most exquisite portrait of Christ she had ever seen. His dark hair hung to his shoulders. His face was handsome. His eyes held her with a look of compassion that was...familiar. The eyes were the exact color and shape as James' eyes. James who always treated her with respect and kindness when he came to buy Dame Paston's candles. How had this Christ come to have the eyes of James?

*

One day followed another and became a week, then a month and then another month. As time passed Lydia became increasingly aware that at home, Moder had ordered their days as if they were nuns. Each day they had began with Mass and ended with Compline just as the nuns did at Romsey Abbey. In memory, as she recited the prayers of the day, Lydia would hear her mother’s voice praying with her. At night when the nuns sang Simeon’s praise song she heard her mother’s voice sing:

Nunc dimittis servum tuum, Domine, secundum verbum tuum in pace:

Quia viderunt oculi mei salutare tuum

Quod parasti ante faciem omnium populorum:

Lumen ad revelationem gentium, et gloriam plebis tuae Israel. *

Each night at home after Simeon's, Moder lapsed into complete silence, unless Fader was home. If he was home, which was seldom, the peace was destroyed.

One night after they were tucked in their beds, Susanna whispered, "I hate this place. I hate the lessons, I hate the prayers, I hate the stupid boring clothes we wear."

Lydia asked, "Why are you even here?"

Susanna hissed, "Me brother sent me here. Paid a good price too. Mother Therese did not want me, but William, he offered her a tempting sum and she gave in to the temptation. My brother dunna want me around. He has a new wife and a concubine on the side. My tongue flaps too much he said and I was a risk he would not take. So, here I am, but I dunna aim to stay."

"Where will you go?"

"Me granny always said, 'A way will find you if you go lookin' for it.' So, I be lookin'. We got nearly two years before we take our vows. I got time to snag me a different future than my brother has planned. Once I learn to write good, I got a letter in mind to send his pretty wife."

"Can his wife read?"

"Damnation Lydia, I never thought of that. Not smart like you. But, I bet that if I send her a letter, she will find someone to read it to her."

There was a sharp rap on the wall. One of the nuns had heard them talking. Susanna giggled and covered her mouth.

*

On the morning of Midsummer's eve Lydia did not want to study her letters even though she was making good progress and she knew it. This morning she wanted home, she wanted the past. When she was a child, Bab would take her to an old oak tree near the River Test and tell her stories about the pixies and the other wee folk. If one was very lucky, one might see them when they came out on Midsummer's eve. Bab swore she had seen them many a time, dressed in their finest, jeweled in dew drops. The pixies and wee folk danced in faerie rings to call forth the magic of their kind every Midsummer's eve. Bab had promised to take Lydia to see the dance, and Bab always kept her promises. Unfortunately, King Edward's exile of the Jews had forced Bab to break her promise. If Bab still lived, would she be watching the pixies and wee folk dance this night?

Sister Timothy's voice called her back to the present. Lydia looked up at the nun. In one hand she held the usual clay tablet. It was a a shallow box that contained a thin slab of clay. On this clay Lydia used a pointed stick to practice drawing her Latin letters. She got better with each practice. In Sistrer Timothy's other hand was a different kind of tablet. It was made of wax! The instant Sister Timothy placed it before Lydia, her fingers shot to it. It had been months since she had touched wax. Sister Timothy said, "I showed Mother Therese your letter work on the clay tablets. She thinks you might have a gift for illuminating."

"Really?"

Sister Timothy smiled. "Aye. This is what the nuns use who illuminate the scriptures. They draw out their fancy work on wax then copy it onto parchment." The thought of working with wax filled Lydia with a sense of joy she had not felt since before her mother died. With gentle fingers she caressed the wax. The faint smell of honey filled her nostrils and her heart.

"Here," said Sister Timothy, "is your stylus." Lydia took the bone instrument. It felt strange in her hand. In truth she did not want to injure the flat tablet of wax with it. The wax was so beautiful in and of itself. Seeming to read her thoughts Sister Timothy said, "You can not ruin it child. You know can always be melted down."

Lydia did indeed know this. What she wanted most was to melt this wax down and make a candle from it. It had been so very long since she had practiced the trade of making vessels of light.

Sister Timothy continued, "Now here is the scripture I want you to copy." The nun placed a slip of parchment beside the tablet.

With great concentration Lydia copied the first letter onto the tablet. Slowly, letter by letter she wrote what was written on the parchment. When she was finished, Sister Timothy said, "Sound the letters out Lydia."

"D-dixi-ti-que Deus: F-i-at lux. Et fact-a est lux."

Sister Timothy asked, "Do you know what it says?"

It sounded familiar.

"Read them again Lydia."

She read, "Dixitique Deus: Fiat lux. Et facta est lux." In that instant she knew what the words said! They said, "And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.” In her mind she saw a vast darkness and heard a booming voice. Spontaneous light exploded filling the heavens and her mind. Words were powerful tools.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Translation : *Now thou dost dismiss thy servant, O Lord, according to thy word in peace; Because my eyes have seen thy salvation, Which thou hast prepared before the face of all peoples: A light to the revelation of the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel.