4:45 AM, Sister Rose Caldwell’s Cell

Rose was nestled in a bed covered with lamb skins, the thick wool held in the warmth of her body and that of the man next to her. Underneath her was a soft mattress stuffed with wool and aromatic herbs. She breathed in the scent or rosemary and thyme as she moved closer to her man.

She was happy and content to continue slumbering in her sod house, curled up with him, but he rose and sat on the edge of the shelf on which the bed lay allowing the cold to steal the warmth from her snug cocoon. Rose awoke fully as the brisk air prickled her naked skin. She wanted to just pull the covers over her, but she could hear through the sounds of men, many of them congregating before the hut.

The wind was rising, whistling through the gaps toward the top of the roof where the wisps of smoke from the smoldering fire were whisked away.

The man on the edge of the bed was at least ten years her senior. His body was marked from battle, the scars old and new yet with the fit lean physique that showed him to be a warrior. Nothing revealed that he was also once a king, as he sat there in the cool air, naked except for a carved, wooden cross suspended from a leather thong around his neck.

“It is still early my love, come back to bed” she trailed her fingers down the side of his muscular body.

The man spoke without turning around.

“The men are gathering, I need to speak with them.”

He stood and went to the stool on which their clothes lay. He tossed a simple blue woven dress to Rose along with a cloak of a deep red with golden trim.

“Dress, I would have you by me when I talk to the men”

His voice was commanding as he began to put on his own clothing, woolen trousers over woven undergarments then a thick long shirt round which he tied a belt from which a dagger hung. He was tying the thongs of his sandals when the hide door of the hut was pulled back allowing the sunlight to stream in.

In the doorway stood a formidable man dressed for battle. The metal helmet on his head was encircled by a thin strip of beaten gold. He wore a mail shirt of interlocking rings over his padded armor. At his waist he wore a half axe and long dagger while the grip and guard of a hand and a half sword poked over his shoulder.

He ducked under the low beam at the top of the doorway and let the hide door fall closed behind him. Rose held her breath then let it go with relief as he removed his helmet and spoke, “Your Majesty.” He dropped to one knee.

“Stand up Nephew!” the man tying his sandals growled. “You are the King now.” “You have the helmet; you have my oath that the throne is yours Coenrad. I am done with it!”

“Uncle Aethelred! Please come to your senses! The council of Ealdormen has been called and all of our forces have rallied behind Ostric’s call to fight the Britons for your soul,” pleaded Coenrad.

"My soul is quite safe, thank you nephew. I am just tired of being King. I took the throne when your father died. I had no expectations of being King you know this!”

“When Osthryth died, I summoned Bishop Wilfrid. We had a private meeting with not even a scribe present. My words to him were private, but you need to know. I have never desired to die sitting on a throne surrounded by men whose only interest is to fight over more land.”

“My intention had always been to abdicate to you and live in peace and then when Osthryth died,” he sighed deeply.

“I lost my wits for a while, but they have returned, and I have decided to live the life of a simple farmer and to live it with her,” he pointed to Rose who was tying the belt round her kirtle.

“I wish to be left to contemplate my mortality and enjoy a few peaceful years as a man, not a King. Or if as a King, then one who saw the error of his ways and brought peace not war to two lands. In time, you will understand this wish, Coenred, King of Mercia," Aethelred said quietly.

Rose knew she was deep in a dream, but she could not move, talk or wake no matter how she tried. She was trapped, knowing that she was asleep in cell in the convent, yet her consciousness was there in the medieval sod house, containing the bed and presence of King Aethelred. This was truly a lucid dream, she saw through the eyes of the woman she inhabited that the man called Coenred was pointing at her where she stood by the bed.

“Uncle! Can you not see! That one has you under a spell! This Briton Witch has beguiled you! She plans to return your kingdom to her pagan ways and spit in the eye of our Lord Jesus!” shouted Coenred.

Aethelred laughed, “Coenrad, Coenrad, son of my brother, there was a day when my bile would rise, and I would have struck you down for those words. I would have spilt even my own kin’s blood for such an insult. But now… now I will not strike and there will be no war host arrayed against the Britons.

“But Uncle…!”

“Enough! Roared Aethelred.

“I have spoken with the Bishop on this matter. The vile lies that this field monk spreads about her will not sway me from my path. I have found that which I never thought to have again, the love of a woman! The men will still listen to me, you may have their oaths, but they will still listen to me. Do not make this a fight between us Coenred!” His eyes blazed with anger.

The hide was flung back and the monk Ostric entered. He bowed to the two men.

“My King” he addressed Coenrad. The Ealdormen grow restless and await your commands the men are foregathered,” Ostric stated, head bowed.

“Please wait outside, Father Ostric, while my uncle and I speak,” asked Coenrad.

“As you wish my king. May I have your guard escort the witch out?” the monk suggested with a sly smile towards Rose.

The body that Rose inhabited pulled the cloak around her shoulders and stood straight staring at the wild-eyed monk. One eye was looking at her while the other seemed to look at Coenrad. She saw Aethelred look to his sword, rested against the wall near the head of the sleeping pallet. She knew her man would do everything in his power to stop the monk or his nephew from harming her, but that would bring down the wrath of the Ealdormen and the men oathed to them, who waited for Aethelred to return and lead them against her people.

She muttered a prayer to the Morrighan to intercede and stop these men. Rose felt the woman’s connection with the land, and through it knew she was a member of the sisterhood of the Morrighan.

She felt through her feet that the demon was in attendance, his presence overshadowing this room, hard at work to win his freedom.

“Look my king!” Cried the monk. “Even now she calls to her foul lord to protect her and curse us all! We must take her now and burn her! Burn the witch before she kills us all!”

“Dare you not, Monk, or you will be the first I slay!” yelled Aethelred lunging for his sword.

While Coenrad’s sword was to hand, Aethelred was the more experienced and in the moment of his nephew’s indecisiveness, he seized the seconds he needed to grasp the handle of his sword and unsheathe it in one sweeping motion, placing himself between Rose and his nephew and the wall-eyed monk.

“My Lord, do you not see how she is twisting your minds to make you to fight each other? You should be riding side by side to take Gods’ word to the Pagans and strike their heresies from them,” urged Ostric.

“Silence treacherous monk! I have made peace with the Ordovice clans and that accord will be honoured,” Aethelred’s voice was full of scorn.

Ostric pleaded with Coenrad, “My Lord, he is truly under the witch’s spell, I fear me it is too late. He is prepared to kill you and me for that woman and to stop us from bringing the true word to the Pagans!”

Coenrad looked at his uncle and then the monk biting his lip in indecision.

“Uncle, you confirm that I am now the King of Mercia?”

“I do, my Lord,” agreed Aethelred.

Coenrad sighed and straightened. His voice was firm.

“Then you are to ride with us to battle and leave this witch for a tribunal by the Church,” ordered the young King of Mercia.

“I swear I am no witch! Take me into your fold. Baptise me, make me Christian. I will give up the gods of my fathers and become one of you to prove that I am not a witch,”

Garwen’s voice trembled as she spoke. Much was at stake here, not just her life but the lives of her people.

Aethelred laughed, “There monk, there is your answer! baptise Garwen of the Ordovices. Baptise the chief’s daughter before the armies of Mercia and the King’s council.”

His voice dripped with contempt.

Garwen adjusted the cloak around her shoulders,

“I ask to be cleansed of sin, Priest.”

The monk looked between the new King and the old then went to his knees before Coenrad.

“I beseech thee my Lord, do you not see how devious the Prince of Darkness is. His servant would become a Christian to fool you into believing she is not a succubus; using her wickedness to take the Kingdom back to Pagan ways. My King, it is too late for these two, they consort with Satan himself to take Mercia on a path to the apocalypse” implored the monk.

King Coenrad drew his sword,

“Your King has commanded you, Aethelred of Mercia.”

“If it was the king that truly commanded me then I would obey, but I will never obey because of the words of a foul lying hedge priest! Tell me monk, how does she take the kingdom back to pagan ways? I am no longer king your words make no sense!”

“How is it that the devil can accept baptism? Is it not meant to drive out sin? Does not the exorcism rite use similar methods! Does not holy water drive out devils?”

“Bah! Get out of my way before I deprive my nephew of his confessor!”

Garwen and through her Rose felt the presence of evil at work in the room, growing with each passing moment. She looked at the monk and saw the hatred burning in his eyes. Aethelred’s arguments had made their mark with Coenrad and he lowered his sword. She stepped up next to Aethelred, chin lifted. He took her hand and squeezed it before leading her past his nephew and the monk.

She walked at his side to the hide door of the hut. Aethlred lifted it aside and the two of them stepped out into the dawn light. Behind them the sun was clearing the horizon, golden and promising a clear warm day.

Outside, the Ealdormen of the King’s Council awaited, listening in on the argument between the past and current king. Beyond them were their men, formed up in ranks, the army of Mercia.

She scanned the front rows of the assembled boys and men, garbed for war on the orders of just one of the men in that hut, but she could see they would rather be at home working their fields than stood here in the dawn light.

Her people were a scant few miles away from this place. If they learnt of this host, they would declare war just on the principle of Mercian feet on their soil. Battle would be further justified by the grudges held by her father and uncles that would reawaken and the fight would be bloody.

She stepped forward in front of the half circle of leaders and spoke proudly.

“I am Garwen verch Madoc of the Ordovices. I stand here accused of being a witch by this man!”

She turned and pointed at the monk who had just stepped from the hut.

“I have told him and your King that I accept your God and have asked your holy man to baptize me to prove I am no witch.” Her voice grew stronger in her anger.

“He does not believe me! He says I am a devil, that baptism will not work!” her voice was a shout now aimed at the men beyond the circle of Ealdormen.

“He does not believe in his own religion and teachings! Are there any here who will bless me and make me of your faith?” She stood tall before them in the dawn light, the trim of her cloak catching the light.

An Ealdorman in chain-mail and leather answered, "Is this true my King?” he addressed Aethelred.

“I am no longer your king, Hamfest. But it is true.”

“Then if the girl wants to accept Christ who are we to stop her?" asked Hamfest bewildered.

“Ealdormen, did you bring your priests with you to battle!” called Aethelred.

“Aye I did my Lord,” replied Hamfest and others also responded.

“All of you, to whom I was once your liege lord, hear me! There stands your new king my nephew, to who you now own fealty. I was once your king and led you to many a victory but now this I do ask of you all.”

“Do not take this course, there is no need for us to fight today, we have peace, the first for many years. I have grown weary of fighting. We have grown into old men fighting.” He pointed at the ring of councilors.

“We are here today because that man!” He turned and pointed at Ostric.

“That man wants strife! No one else! There is no witchcraft here! If there is then all of your wives are guilty too!” there was a rumble of laughter from the men in front of him.

“I ask that you continue to support my nephew and help him be a good and just ruler. Those of you who brought your clergymen to this place, I ask them in the name of our Lord Christ to let them come forward and baptise this woman into our faith,” pleaded Aethelred.

“So, she can marry you and sire an heir to contend with King Coenrad,” voiced Ostric from the edge of the circle.

The Ealdorman paused at this statement.

“Hold thy tongue monk, lest I cut it from your lying mouth!” Aethelred snarled at Ostric.

“If it means peace between our people I will become one of your brides of Christ!” cried Garwen.

Rose could see the stunned look on Aethelred as he absorbed Garwen’s words. “and I will retire to the monastery at Bardney after a pilgrimage to Rome,” said Aethelred.

Several priests pushed through the throng of men to kneel before the Kings

Coenrad stepped forward.

“Before all of this company, the woman Garwen will be baptised. If it be true, as the monk claims, that she is a witch and has beguiled my uncle by foul magics then the holy water will burn and shrivel her. If he lies, then she will be unharmed and will enter the church of Christ as our sister in God!”

He motioned for the men to stand.

“Come forward girl” Coenred commanded.

Garwen went to her knees before the priests.

They stood in a half circle around her, the most senior of them recited the sacrament in Latin and she closed her eyes and held hers hands up as in prayer. Rose felt the warm hands of the priest on her head then the icy cold-water splash upon her head. As the priest made the sign of the cross on her forehead she opened her eyes.

She was no longer in the body of Garwen but stood in a place of grey flat light, where even the surface on which she stood was grey and featureless. She realised with a start that there was a woman next to her and that the woman was Garwen.

Garwen looked at her and nodded in greeting, “Sister”

Rose knew that she did not refer to her being a nun but to a coterie of women that belonged to more than one faith or religion, more than one age, a sisterhood that spanned time and space in a way that she did not yet fully understand.

She returned the nod and title, “Sister”.

She watched as a figure appeared out of the grey and walked towards them. The two women watched as the figure approached until the form of Ostric was revealed.

“Well, now this is surprising! I was expecting just you,” he said to Garwen.

“Now who might you be?” he turned to Rose.

Rose made no response and the monk shrugged. “It is of no importance, you will tell me eventually,” he smiled.

“What bargain have you made with the Beast?” Garwen demanded.

Ostric’s smile widened and when he next spoke his voice was far deeper than the monks.

“There was no bargain! I consumed his soul long ago,” the body of the monk responded.

“This one thought to defeat me and stop my influence in this realm. He thought to achieve power in the church and amongst men. Instead he opened a doorway for me, now I can through him and others touch the world of men directly and prepare the path for my corporeal entry to your realm and its rule. In the end he gave himself willingly for my service. The fool came to think that I was the Holy Spirit. He learnt otherwise when his soul fed my hunger!”

Rose spoke for the first time. “You tricked him into allowing you entry to our world Marbas?”

Ostric laughed. “Ah no, young stranger. My freedom comes from her lover’s ambition. Aethelred’s desire to expand Mercia and to have your people give up the old ways of their religion weakened my bonds. With that that softening of my chains when this fool thought he would better me he soon learnt the error of his ways. Now his form allows me to walk freely amongst men, sowing discord.”

The monk’s face and skull began to crack and split. Before their stunned gaze, the outward shell of the monk fell apart and, in its place, stood a man shaped figure with the head of a lion. The creature stood a full rod tall; more than twice the height of even the tallest of men.

His skin was the color of pewter and had a leathery sheen that as he moved reflected light in small iridescent sparkles like the scales of a monstrous snake.

The creature peered down at the two women who had moved closer together for support.

“Tell me little stranger, how did you see beyond the form of the man? How know you my name?”

Rose stared at the creature her lips firmly pressed together he could not know she was from the future or that she knew of his long captivity.

“No answer? How disappointing, still it is of no matter, you will not have that knowledge for long in any case.”

He turned his attention to Garwen, bending down from the waist to peer into her eyes. She stood firm before him and spoke proudly.

“I am of this land demon, a Sister of the Earth Mother, of the Morrighan whose trinity of sisters guide me.”

“Why you would care what happens to these Christians? They are your enemy, like the Romans before them. They come here to take your lands and kill your kin!” The creature seemed perplexed as it paced around them.

In the endless nothingness of grey that surrounded them, floor, sky, horizon was all a monotonous grey blank. Only the Demon’s burning footprints marred the nothingness, as if his footfall was as hot as the earth’s core. He stepped closer to them.

“I have a bargain for you Garwen. Help me sow conflict between Aethelred and the new king! Help me cause the Mercian throne to fall. You will have a long life with your man. Or I will have your life on our return. Decide now, before we return to your reality.”

“I have made my covenant, I have given myself to the Christian God, but my oaths to the three sisters of the Morrighan still remain true, they are not jealous of the Christian God. With them in my heart I have no need for your lies, or false promises, and tricks. I will be the portal that will reveal your true visage to the Mercians and Celts,”

Garwen stood firm and proud in front of Marbas.

A shadow brushed across them, Rose looked up and there circling above them in the gloom, was the largest raven she had ever seen. As it flew over them its circling blocked out the sun, that only a moment before had not been there.

Rose looked around, the grey limbo had gone. They were back, back in their own realm. She was back within Garwen. The lion headed creature was once more encased in the shape of the monk. It stood still, looking around, its prideful pacing had ceased, replaced by stillness and a hunched posture as if waiting for a blow to fall.

The space Rose, Garwen and the creature that had loomed had occupied, was no longer a grey nothingness, but the area in front of the hut. As she watched the sun disappeared, replaced by a roiling fog which slowly closed in on them.

At the edge of the fog, from the East and the West the silhouette of a wolf and a horse walked slowly forward, closing in on the monk and Garewn/Rose while from above the raven swooped down.

The fog thickened leaving a small clearing and the shadows of the animals flickered and flowed away; in their place were the forms of three women. Rose could not make out their features; veils shielded their faces from view even as they reached the edge of the fog bank.

From behind Rose a bright intense light broke through the fog, brighter than the midday sun and shone on Ostric causing him to cower, shielding his eyes from the light. She herself was bathed in the white brilliance and took joy in its strange, vaporous quality.

She struggled to turn around but found she was immobile, fixed in place, as the light changed its form to the flowing ethereal fabric she had seen in her vision. Rose was just a spectator as this dreamlike event played out.

A chill passed through her, as a being of light walked past her transfixed body towards Marbas. From the corner of her eye she watched as a shape of utter beauty, twice the size of a man with an aura that moved and flowed like smoke move forward. Rose knew this being; it was Ariel, Ariel the archangel, from her vision, full of strength and love. The angel was substantial, then intangible but awe-inspiring all at once.

Rose tried to understand where the angel started and stopped. She saw the muscular frame, dressed in brilliant silver plate armour, yet an energy or smoke emanated from him that billowed about him and took the form of floating silk. Wings protruded above the angel’s back reaching into the grey fog that surrounded the beast within the body of the monk.

The angel spoke, its voice melodious yet ear splittingly loud. Once again she could not understand the words of its strange language. The form of Ostric which she knew contained the demon Marbas replied in the same tongue. While the conversation was indecipherable; the tone and body language made it clear to Rose a confrontation was imminent.

The demon's human casing dissolved and Marbas was again revealed in his true form. Of equal size to the angel they confronted one another almost touching. Marbas snarled and suddenly pounced on Ariel. The archangel and fallen angel grappled one another. Marbas’s fangs clashed uselessly on the helm worn by the angel, whose fists pummeled the demon.

The fog swirled and out of its depths the three shadowy forms of the women appeared shrieking their hatred of the demon. Their shapes grew until they were of equal size to the battling figures. They joined in the battle swinging rods of fire that rained down blows on the demon’s head and shoulders.

Their attack gave the demon pause and it fell back a step giving Ariel a chance to draw his sword which flamed with a cold blue light.

Ariel pointed his sword at the ground and voiced a command. The ground groaned and heaved then split open revealing its fiery depths. All the combatants seemed to be standing in the air above the fissure as Ariel joined the sisters in hitting Marbas.

The demon cringed and wailed as the angel’s sword fell on his head and shoulders, the blue flame flickering to red as it struck.

With each blow of the sword and the women’s rods, the demon seemed to shrink to fall in on himself. With a wail the demon began to sink into the ground dropping into the gaping fissure. As he descended so gouts of the crimson energies Rose had seen when she used her scrying mirror arose from the tortured ground.

As Marbas was pushed into the fissure his cries grew louder and more fearful his attempts to flee more obvious, but the four creatures of light encircled him, and their weapons drove him ever downwards. As he dropped below the rim of the fissure, the edges began to close inwards. His shrieks became muffled as he was entombed in the rock and soil of the field.

The three women’s forms coalesced into a single human sized woman stood on the opposite side of the fissure from the angel. The woman spoke.

“Come human, seal the beast away and pickup thy burden of the ages.”

Garwen stepped forward and the woman handed her a carved stone covered in blue.

“Do you take this burden willingly?” Garwen spoke firmly. “I so confirm”

“Then take this human, set it down on this space and the demon will be sealed in the earth of this realm as long as you and your heirs keep it bound with these glyphs.”

Garwen took the petroglyph and placed it on the glowing red spot where the Morrighan and Ariel had driven Marbas below ground.

“It is done, only the shell remains to be disposed of.” The woman said to Ariel.

The angel nodded then turned and walked into the light disappearing from view.

The fog swirled once more and then was gone. In its place were the gathered forces of Mercia and the scene she had left. It seemed a lifetime ago, yet here no time seemed to have passed. Each person still stood in the same spot as before save one. Now before her stood Ostric his form outlined in shimmering, blue green flame. He was close to her yet she felt no heat or pain caused by the flames which covered him.

His mouth was open in a silent scream and his eyes were rolled back in his head. She took a step backwards then another and another until she felt her body hit that of another. Hands gripped her arms and she felt fear, then a well-loved voice whispered in her ear.

“Stand steady, my love, stand steady and show no fear or joy at this sight.”

She nodded slightly and face impassive watched with the gathered nobles and men of Mercia as the body of Ostric was consumed by the flames.

As the cleric’s body was reduced to bones and ashes by the arcane fire, the onlookers backed away, many of them making the sign of the cross. Rose could see the shock, fear and awe on the faces of the other priests who had taken part in her baptism.

The flames spluttered and died. Aethelred renewed his grip on Garwen, pulling her in close.

“Were you burned, my love?” asked Aethelred.

“Nay lord of my heart the flames did not touch me. These are the flames of the earth Mother from which I am protected.”

“Why did the monk burn then?”

Garwen leaned back against him and whispered, fearing others hearing,

“The monk was possessed by a fell demon called Marbas. He intention was to cause strife between you and your nephew and so destroy the kingdom and my people in one go. With my people destroyed, he would be able to walk freely amongst us in any guise as the magic they weave to hold him would weaken and fail.”

Aethelred continued to hold her,

“For now, say nothing! Else they will think you to be a witch, my love. Please say nothing; I will give them an answer that will satisfy them and protect you.”

Aethelred let go and walked past her to the collapsed pile of bones and ashes that was once a man. He stirred the ashes with his foot then bent and picked up the skull of the dead monk. He held it up high for the crowd to see.

“Behold, here are the remains of Ostric. He has been taken to heaven by the Holy Angel, after defeating Marbas an officer of Lucifer, himself.”

“Did you not see how the flames consumed his flesh, yet there is not a blade of grass burnt where his bones lie. Surely this is a miracle, for just as the woman Garwen has been shriven of any evil by her baptism, so did the monk fight the demon afflicting her. The demon is defeated, and the monk has been taken by God into his holy embrace!”

The other monks and holy men dropped to their knees and prayed, many of the gathered army followed suit.

“Your king commands your loyalty and God smiles on us. There is no need for further death this day.”

He turned to Coenred. “Tell them nephew, tell them to return home and let the peace stand.”

Coenred stepped forward and addressed the army in a ringing tone.

“We have been saved this day from evil. My mind and that of my uncle are clear on this matter. Return to your homes, we shall not fight this day.”

The men cheered and began to stand slapping each other on the back, relieved that death would not visit them today.

“What now Uncle?”

“I will lead a pilgrimage. I will take this holy relic to Rome for the Pope to bless. On my return I shall take Christ’s newest convert to the convent in Bardney and then I too shall enter a life of contemplation.”

“As you wish Uncle.”

Aethelred turned Garwen. “This is for the best my love, we keep the peace and save many lives.” He smiled ruefully, “Of course a pilgrimage may take many months, even years in these uncertain times!”

Garwen smiled at him. “That is true my love.”

Coenred snorted in amusement at the subterfuge.

“I have one last request nephew. I ask that you buy this piece of land from the Britons and with their permission raise a chapel here in honor of the events here today. Dedicate it to Saint John the Baptist, the first to show redemption through baptism.”

Rose came awake with a shuddering gasp. Her chest heaved. She could finally move, awakened from out of the dream by the bell for prayers. She lay there trying to gather her thoughts to recollect all the details of the dream.

It was a dream wasn’t it?

Her thoughts tumbled.

Was it a dream?

* * *

5:25 AM, Sister Rose Caldwell’s Cell

Rose awoke with an aching head and heart. Her dream conflicted with all that she had read and found out about St Ostric. How could it be that the heroic figure painted in the books could in fact be a tool of the demon?

Was this a true visitation of past events in which an angel of God did in fact appear and defeat the demon or was it all part of fevered imaginings? She felt unwell, was she perhaps suffering a chill from last night’s adventure, was this the cause of her dream?

Rose went through her usual morning process of changing from night clothes into her habit with her movements jerky and stiff like a fairground automaton. Putting up her hair and covering it with her wimple ready to start another day in the chapel with morning prayers, Rose noticed her right palm was stained with the blue dye the Druids used to sanctify the rocks. She dimly recalled reading about Woad and how it was used by many tribes of the land now called Briton, for decoration in times of war.

She went to the wash bowl in her room and scrubbed her hands, her washing did fade the colorful dye but her hand still looked like the crushed berries of the nightshade plant. She supposed that she and the women she had met last night were at war. Not with each other as she had thought but with the demon. Rose dried her hands and then rushed to the chapel for prayer hoping that no one would notice her hand before the dye rubbed off. Perhaps she could say she had been crushing the berries for a potion?

She sat in the choir and mouthed the words while around her the Sisters and novitiates of the order recited the morning psalm. Her mind was filled with the dream and her meeting with Mrs. Culpepper. She felt bereft of purpose, she had felt sure that she was on Gods work, guided by one of his saints and that she would find the witches that were causing the ills of late.

Now her beliefs had been challenged and her dream or vision of last night cast doubt on all she had read and learnt in the last year. If her dream was true then Ostric had been no saint but the cause of much evil. The words of Mrs. Culpepper seemed to agree with the dream, that they were not the minions of the demon but guardians against its return. Yet the books and stories of Ostric, all agreed he was a saint who saved the land.

She was torn by what to believe.

She barely spoke during breakfast and after a while her friends gave up trying to break her out of her preoccupation. After breakfast, Judith and Katherine left to perform their chores for the day and she slowly made her way to the Library to begin her day organizing and dusting. She suddenly stopped as she realized something. The monk she had seen in her first vision of Ariel had not been the wall eyed Ostric of last night, but an entirely different man.

With a feeling of hope in her heart she realized that the monk who had stood with her when Ariel had spoken to her had looked just like King Aethelred! If it had been him and not Ostric, then……. Her dream of last night had been true! Ostric was not a saint after all.

She resumed her way to the reliquary with a lighter step. She still did not know her way forward at this time and she knew she could tell no one of what she had learned of Ostric, but she felt better knowing that Mrs. Culpepper was probably true to her word. She would find out soon what Culpepper knew.

As she entered the reliquary she found Sister Madeline sprawled on the floor and the chair she usually sat nodding in, toppled over.

“Sister Madeline, are you all right?” she hurried over and dropped to her knees. Sister Madeline did not answer, and Rose leant forward and put her hand on the older nun’s cheek. It was cold, so very cold. Then Rose noticed the small pool of blood under her head. There was no rise and fall of Madeline’s chest, Madeline was clearly dead.

Rose sat back on her heels and offered a small prayer for Madeline’s soul She saw a look of pure horror on Madeline’s face, her eyes wide open and staring, her mouth frozen in an O of surprise.

Rose considered the body for a moment and then looked around the room, from here nothing seemed amiss. What could have caused the look on the old nun’s face? Surely not just the chair tipping over. Why would it fall, Madeline had often fallen asleep in it?

She looked at the chair to see if a leg had snapped causing the tumble. No, the legs were all whole. Could this been caused by her snapping out of her sleep?

The angle of Madeline’s neck was strange Rose gently moved Madeline’s head from side to side. It moved too freely. Rose knew that feeling from wringing the necks of chickens at home. Madeline’s neck was broken.

It seemed that bad luck had turned a simple fall into death. It was as she let the head fall back into its original place that she saw them. Small rents in the wimple Madeline wore, from which trickles of blood had congealed. They were on both sides of the nun’s neck, small tears in the cloth and neck of the woman.

Rose hissed with understanding, the marks had been made by claws. She froze her eyes filling with tears. Poor Madeline had been murdered and she had an idea of her murderer.

She sighed, made the sign of the cross then got to her feet.

She looked around the room again searching for the ingress for the creatures she was sure had killed Madeline. She could see no obvious opening, no window was broken, no stones missing from the walls that she could see, no books on the floor where they had been pushed off the shelves.

She turned around slowly, and her gaze fell on the trapdoor to the cellar. Was it possible? She bent and grasped the recessed handle and pulled.

It was unlocked!

She lifted the hatch and the lock was exposed, what was left of it, it had been gouged from the wood of the hatch and she could see its remains lying on the stairs. There was a thin trail of soil on the stairs she could see.

Rose closed the hatch and stood up, this was clearly how the creatures had gained entrance to the room, she was sure she would find a hole somewhere in the cellar.

Rose got up and made her way to the door to fetch the Mother Superior when she stopped, and her heart sank. The glass case was empty, the relic, the relic was gone!

Rose felt a chill run up her spine, the hairs on the back of her neck rising under her wimple.

Just a few scant hours past, she was Garwen, the lover of Aethelred and a member of the Morghanin; confronting Ostric and his demon master. Now the holy relic that claimed to be the skull of a saint but was possibly the remains of a man possessed by a demon was gone.

Maybe Madeline had put it somewhere? No that is silly.

Why should she?

She went back to the body and searched and found the keys to the room. Locking the door behind her she went to give the Mother Superior the bad news.

* * *

1:20 PM, The Office of Sister Maria, Mother Superior

Sister Maria came out of her office. Rose had been outside sitting on a bench looking up at a crucifix on the wall. She had been called to the office some time ago by Sister Beatrix, the Mother Superior’s lieutenant. She stood when she heard the door open.

“Sister, please come with me,” said the Mother Superior.

The Mother Superior made her way to the parlour at the front of the building. She paused and turned to Rose.

“Sister Rose, you are used to dealing with people from outside these walls. You also found poor Madeline and so can explain what you found this morning. For the moment you are the representative of our house. Please speak carefully and think about the consequences to us all of what you say.”

“Yes Mother, I understand,” said Rose quietly.

The Mother Superior opened the door and led the way into the parlour. Rose was surprised to see that the grated door was opened, and that the Sheriff was sat in the parlour waiting.

He stood as the women entered. “Good afternoon Mother Superior and Sister Rose isn’t it?”

The Mother Superior gave Rose an inquiring look.

“We met at the Masons, the day of the accident!” Rose quickly explained.

“I see.” “Sheriff Alderton, thank you for coming at short notice. I believe you know that we have had a theft of a relic and an unfortunate death?” The Mother Superior said quietly.

Rose noted that she had put the theft above the death of one of the order.

“Correct Mother Superior, was it Sister Judith I believe?” the Mother Superior nodded.

“Yes, well she brought the news to my office this morning. I was at the time engaged on other matters away from the city, but my Seargent told me as soon as I got back. I of course came straight here.”

“Thank you, Sheriff. Sister Rose is here as she found both the body of Sister Madeline and the theft, she will answer your questions truly.”

“Ah yes, well I have sent for Doctor Belkin, to examine the body and I need to see the scene of the crime…”

The Mother Superior interrupted him. “Impossible! We are a contemplative order and no outsiders may enter beyond this room. To allow anyone let alone a man not a confessor or my superior would mean instant excommunication! I will not allow it!”

The Sheriff’s eyes narrowed at this outburst. “Then I see little chance of our recovering the relic or capturing the thief.”

“I have sent for the Bishop, he will be here tomorrow. If he decides that you need to see Sister Madeline’s body, then he may order it brought to you. That is his choice to make.”

“When he comes I expect him to bring a Jesuit investigator to look for clues and a reason for the theft.”

Rose bit her lip but kept quiet.

A Jesuit investigator! It was not that long ago that they were known by a different name, Inquisitor!

“Very well Mother Superior, in that case I will await their arrival and their findings. At that point we may take the investigation forward! In the meantime, perhaps Sister Rose could describe the scene for me while the memory is fresh in her mind?”

“Very well, ask your questions of her.”

“Sister Rose, I know this must have been a great shock for you, finding the body of one of you order and then the missing relic. It would help us if you could tell me what time you found the body?”

“It was not long after breakfast, I am not sure of the exact time I was thinking of other matters.” She gave the Mother Superior a guilty glance.

“Please describe the scene you found, what actions you took, for example did you touch the body?”

“I found the door to the room open, that was not unusual, when it is not locked it is open to all in the convent. I knew that Sister Madeline would be in the room. As I entered I found her lying on the floor, her usual chair toppled over next to her. There was a small pool of blood under head, and I thought that she had hit her head when she fell. I went straight to her and touched her cheek, but she was cold and not breathing. It was clear that she had died.”

She took a deep breath and continued. “I looked around the room but saw no reason for here fall or evidence that anyone else had been there, I surmised that perhaps her heart had given out and was the reason for the fall. I turned to go for the Mother Superior and I saw then that the Relic had gone. I locked the room and went for the Mother Superior.”

The Mother Superior nodded in approval. She like Rose knew that Madeline’s death was unlikely to be an accident but was content to wait for the investigator.

“Thank you, Sister, from your description it appears that the thief may have surprised Sister Madeline and she did indeed have a heart attack because of it. As to the Relic, we will have to wait for the Bishop’s man to give us more.” He nodded to himself and the women.

“If you can think of anything else that might help Sister Rose, please let me know. I want to find the culprit and make an example of them. Until then might I ask that you keep this quiet, it won’t help the town if rumors of a murdered nun and stolen artifacts begin to circulate.”

“We too are not interested in it being made public that our convent is not a sacred and secure place. There are anti-papists that want us to fail and would look for any opportunity to bring about that failure, but we will remain steadfast in our mission,” agreed the Mother Superior.

“Well I think for the moment I can do no more, so I will leave you to mourn your loss. Good day Mother Superior, Sister!”

The Sheriff left the room and the Mother Superior close and bolted the doorway into the outer parlour.

“Well done Rose, now I have another matter to discuss with you. In my office!”

* * *

2:30 PM,The Office of Sister Maria, Mother Superior

The Mother Superior took her seat behind her desk and gestured for Rose to sit.

“I have received a request from the Culpepper house for you to visit on the evening of the twenty-ninth.”

Rose nodded politely but refrained from speaking.

“Glynnis Culpepper is a benevolent influence on this community. Her family is one of the largest landowners in the county and while her interest in our order is heartening, I wonder why she would call upon you to dine with her?” The Mother Superior’s voice was full of questions.

How was Rose to answer? Her mind raced from response to response;

‘I met her in a field after the curfew performing ancient rites to defend us against a demon? She was very nice! No that wouldn’t do. How about, ‘I have been practicing magical rituals outlined by two sixteenth-century occultists and have been seeing ghosts of dead saints and little grey men stealing rocks!’

Rose finally spoke, “I have met her when she came to my father’s mill but that was some time ago and I was quite young the last time I saw her there. Perhaps it is not a good idea for me to accept.”

“Please explain why not!” The Mother Superior was surprised by her answer.

Rose sighed and looked down at her hands, one still showing blue from the night before.

“Mother you know I came to the convent because I have a strong belief in what might be found beyond this mortal realm. For the past four years, I have followed instruction from you and the other sisters and through your guidance, I have come to believe that this world is one of many and that at times there are messages from these spiritual worlds and that they are speaking to me. I have not heard voices, I am not claiming that God is speaking to me but I have had such dreams and now visions, Mother, of Saint Ostric and…”

“Go on,” the Mother Superior encouraged.

“I fear I have been disobedient and have gone beyond the traditional teachings of the church in trying to understand these messages and the mysteries they hint at and now I believe that this search has had an effect upon me and that my very sanity is threatened.” Rose hesitated to divulge her secrets.

“How so, just speak your mind,” the older nun asked, supportively.

“I believe I may have attracted an evil force to me, that this force is who took Saint Ostric’s Relic; that there is a malevolence intending to poison my mind and make me lose my faith in the blessed Saint,”

Rose was surprised at her own candor. “I beg for guidance in this matter, I know for a certainty that I am not in a place mentally and spiritually where I should go to someone's home as a representative of our order,” explained Rose.

“Is there something specific about Mrs. Culpepper that you take issue with?”

Rose wasn’t going to say that the woman led a sisterhood of Druids. What many would call witches, “No, Mother I am just at my wit's end and can’t think about being outside the convent. I am fearful that if I am unable to receive clear direction soon, I will lose my mind.”

“I see, so, there is no personal issue between you and the Culpeppers? No local feud I need to be aware of?” asked the Mother Superior.

“No, Mother she is a pillar of the community and while at times she may appear to be a little eccentric, she has always been good to me and those I know,” confirmed Rose.

“Then let me help then, as you ask. Rose, I am surprised by you. You have sat here in my office and offered no coherent or logical reason for not going to visit Mrs. Culpepper as she has requested. Instead you have told me girlish nonsense about evil influences acting upon you and visions of saints.

You are no Joan of Arc I can assure you. You are self-centered and disobedient and to accuse Mrs. Culpepper of being eccentric after what you have just told me? I can only assume that the shock of Sister Madeline’s death has caused this aberration.

The theft of the relic will be investigated by the Jesuits, and how it was stolen will be discovered I am sure. I am also sure that the last thing you will want, or need is to come to the attention of the investigators any more than you are likely to in the course of the investigation. You would not enjoy their attentions.

No! Instead you will honor your vows of obedience to this order and God and stop this silly prattle of visions and saints!”

“Mother! I am not…..”

The Mother Superior interrupted her, “Enough! You are becoming quite tiresome with this, Rose!

You want to hear the word of God? Then my instructions to you are just that and your vows were to obey me in all things were they not?,

I say pick yourself up forget this nonsense and help the order by being a good steward of the faith to Mrs. Culpepper.

You will go and see her and you will discover how we may minister to her needs whatever they are. That is what I need from you, what I expect from you. I need to focus on the death of our sister and the loss of the holy object we were charged to protect. I do not need your vaporous feelings and imaginations at this time! Do you understand me?”

“Yes Mother,” replied Rose meekly. “Mother, may I ask a question about the theft?”

The Mother Superior took a deep breath before answering. “You may if it relates to earthly matters.”

“Mother, don’t you think it strange how the relic was stolen?” asked Rose. “I mean, who could come into the convent, into the heart of it and get out again without being seen by one of us? Other than poor Sister Madeline?”

The Mother Superior paused in thought for a moment before replying.

“Clearly someone did Sister Rose that is one of the questions to which I am sure the investigator will find an answer. It will be a simple one I am sure once it is looked at with trained eyes.

As for you, Sister, I will let Mrs. Culpepper know that you will attend her as requested. For now, you can go to your cell and contemplate on how you can be the best representative of your church to the community. You will remain there until evening prayers.”

“Yes Mother” Rose stood and made a curtsey to her superior before departing the room head down and disconsolate.

The Mother Superior sat at her desk hands steepled as she thought on Rose’s question.

How had the theft occurred? Who could penetrate to the heart of the convent and leave no trace? The obvious conclusion was no one could, which left just those already within.

She could not bring herself to think that one of her order could resort to theft and murder. Oh she knew it was murder, Sister Antoinette had confirmed that Madeline’s neck had been broken when her body was taken to the infirmary. Antoinette was the convent’s infirmerer and herbalist and had many years of dealing with injuries including broken bones. She had also pointed out the cuts on the neck for which there was no explanation.

The Mother Superior’s eyes were troubled as she went to make arrangements for the forthcoming visit of the Bishop.