Page 4 of The Cardinal's Daughter
‘A man cannot put away his faithful wife just because she has not given him a son,’ Dame Elizabeth said. ‘It’s outrageous! He has a daughter. The Princess Mary will be queen.’
‘A woman cannot rule,’ I put in, then wished I could bite off my tongue, for who was I to have an opinion?
‘What do you think the Abbess does here? She has the right to sit in Parliament! She is a great landowner. Never think that it is beyond a woman’s capacity to govern.’ Dame Elizabeth was growing red in the face.
‘I stand corrected, Dame,’ I said. ‘I had never thought of it that way.’
We were interrupted by the chiming of a bell. ‘It is nine o’clock and time for Compline, our night prayer,’ Dame Elizabeth told me. ‘We keep the canonical hours here, and it is the last service of the day. Afterwards, the Great Silence is observed until morning. We do not speak to each other during that time unless it is strictly necessary.’
As she led us into the massive church, I was asking myself how I would bear the life here, hedged around as it was with rules and traditions. The lack of normal human contact dismayed me; how would I live without it? I could feel a depression descending, a feeling almost of bereavement. I should not have come here without considering whether I had a vocation, which must be the only thing that could make the religious life bearable. Would I ever be vouchsafed one? And did I even want it?
While the service was going on, I tried to recapture the rapture I had felt in Worcester Cathedral, but it eluded me. So I sat in the novices’ stalls and covertly looked around me. The nave was supported by huge columns, the vaulted roof high above me. The altar blazed with a gem-studded crucifix, bejewelled candlesticks and an impressive array of gold and silver plate. I knew that somewhere lay the shrine of St Edward the Martyr, the young Saxon king who had been murdered many centuries ago by his wicked stepmother so that her son could rule in his place. I dared not look around too hard for it, for I feared areprimand, so I kept my eyes focused on the tiled floor, which was beautifully decorated with griffins, lions and dragons.
By the time Compline was over, I was stifling a yawn. I had tried to pray for the strength to embrace fully my new life, but had been unable to concentrate. Everything was new and overwhelming, and I had never felt so alone.
I followed the procession of nuns upstairs to the dorter. In my cubicle, with the curtains pulled modestly around my bed, I stripped to my shift and climbed between the sheets. They were of unbleached linen, washed over and over again to a comfortable smoothness, but the straw mattress prickled, the pillow was hard and too flat, and the blanket covering me was inadequate. I fell asleep huddled in a tight curl, shivering and vowing to go home first thing in the morning.
I woke to sunshine streaming through the tall window above me and felt better. I dressed quickly and washed my face and hands in the lavatorium, hungrily anticipating breakfast. But alas, when I asked one of the novices when we should go down to the refectory, she shook her head.
‘We do not eat breakfast, except at the high feasts of the Church. Our first meal of the day is dinner at noon.’
‘But it is only seven o’clock,’ I wailed. ‘That’s five hours to wait.’
‘Be grateful that the mistress of postulants did not wake you in the night for Matins, Lauds and Prime,’ she laughed. ‘All new entrants are spared that on their first night. But tomorrow, you will be required to attend with the rest of us.’
I began thinking again about going home. I was free to do so, wasn’t I?
At eight o’clock, having moped around the dorter trying to decide what to do, I was collected by Dame Elizabeth, who tookme to the parlour for instruction. Despite the sunny day, it was cold in there and I rubbed my hands, shivering.
‘You will get used to the cold, Sister Dorothy,’ the Dame said. ‘The only fire we light is in the warming room, and all the sisters are permitted to spend an hour a day there. You may go before Vespers, which is at six o’clock in the evening.’
Home beckoned once again. The fires were always lit there, and all the rooms were warm.
‘Our day is punctuated by our observances in church,’ Dame Elizabeth said. ‘There are eight of them, starting with Matins at three in the morning. When the bell sounds for that, you will enter the church by the night stair, which leads down from the dorter. We go back to bed after Matins and sleep until five, when we return to the church for Lauds, which is followed by Prime at six o’clock. Terce is at nine, Sext at midday, None at three in the afternoon, then Vespers at six. In the Benedictine Order, we undertake the work of God, which consists of our prayers and our charities, and the work of our hands, for we are expected to support ourselves. You might find yourself working in the gardens, or the field, or the kitchen, or the laundry. Sisters who are learned may be deployed in the scriptorium, working on manuscripts and other documents. Each of us has a talent or skill we can bring to the running of the abbey, and we have lay sisters to help us.’
‘Can we choose the work we do?’ I asked, fearing the answer.
‘No. We go where we are judged to be most useful. Your vow of obedience will require you to obey your superiors.’ She regarded me kindly. ‘It’s all a bit overwhelming at first, isn’t it? I remember how I felt when I first arrived. It was forty-six years ago this year. There was little money for a dowry, so my father asked King Richard III to vouch for my piety when we met him during his progress in the Midlands after his coronation, and he was pleased to put in a good word for me to the Abbess. Iwas pious, but I missed my home and my freedom, and it took me a while to settle. So, Sister Dorothy, I understand how you are probably feeling. Yet I assure you that you will acclimatise yourself to the life here. Just give yourself time.’
She smiled at me. ‘You have come to a great abbey, and you could not have chosen better. Shaftesbury was founded by King Alfred in the ninth century; it was the first religious house for women only, and it set the pattern for later royal nunneries. The King made his daughter Elfgiva the first abbess. Many kings and queens have visited over the years, and thousands of pilgrims have come to worship at the shrine of St Edward, who has performed many miracles. The blind have had their sight restored. Cripples have thrown away their crutches and walked away. I’ve seen it with my own eyes!’
I heard her in awe. If only I could witness a miracle like that, I might feel happier here, and more ready to stay.
‘Shaftesbury is the wealthiest Benedictine nunnery in England,’ Dame Elizabeth told me. ‘It is said that if the Abbess of Shaftesbury and the Abbot of Glastonbury were able to wed, their son would be richer than the King.’
‘How did the abbey get so rich?’ I ventured.
‘Because so many pious people have bequeathed lands to it down the centuries. But, despite our great revenues, there are many charges on our house, and we have debts that we are unable to pay. It is a headache for Mother Abbess. But you must not let that bother you, Sister Dorothy. You will not want for anything.’
Except warmth, I thought, breakfast – and love. I was longing for someone to hug me.
That first month was very difficult. There was so much to learn, and there were so many rules to follow that it was easy to let myself down, as I often seemed to do. Every day saw me poisedto leave, and it was only the thought of Anne queening it at home that stopped me. I began to feel bitter against my real father, the great Cardinal who had sired me then hidden me away and urged that I be consigned to conventual oblivion. Had he taken no thought for how I might feel about that? And had my real mother not fought to keep me?
I longed for my home, even though I knew I would not be welcomed back. Yet there was nowhere else to go. How I wished I had seized my chance of making a good marriage. That would have been freedom compared to the life I was now compelled to live.
I tried hard to fit in, I really did. And when the month was up, Dame Elizabeth told me that she was pleased with me and that I would be accepted as a novice, if that was my pleasure. Knowing I was not irrevocably committing myself, I agreed.
On my clothing day, I was given a simple white gown, a chaplet of flowers and a posy to hold, like an unmarried girl might wear on her wedding day. Dressed as a bride of Christ, I was led in procession by the nuns to the chancel of the church, where the Bishop of Chichester was enthroned. I knelt before him and made my simple vows. Then I was conducted into the vestry, where I sat down and had my long hair shorn. I was stripped of my bridal finery and clothed in a long tunic of black serge and a scapular. Around my waist my sisters tied a leather belt. On my head was fitted a white wimple attached to a wide-collared guimpe, which covered my breast. Last came the white veil. It felt as if I was being clothed in my shroud.
