Page 17 of Fallen
Sweat trickled down Coira’s back between her shoulder blades as she went through her drills again and again—thrusting, spinning, and blocking with her staff. Her blood pulsed in her ears, her breathing now coming in gasps. She had almost reached the limits of her endurance, and was about to stop, when she heard stifled gasps behind her.
Whipping around, Coira’s gaze settled upon two black-robed figures standing but a handful of yards away.
Ice slithered down her sweaty back, and her fingers clenched around the staff.
Two young monks, their smooth faces slack with shock, gaped at her. It was almost comical, for the pair stared as if they’d just seen her sprout horns and a forked tail. A heartbeat passed, and then another—and a sickening sensation clawed up Coira’s throat from her belly.
How was she going to explain this to Father Camron?
“This is unnatural behavior.”
The abbot’s voice boomed through the chapter house, making the stained glass windows that lined one side of the small building vibrate.
Eyes downcast, her gaze fixed upon the flagstone floor, Coira wondered how Mother Shona was going to respond. She’d barely been able to meet the woman’s gaze since being called in here. Guilt compressed Coira’s chest, and she started to sweat. Not from exertion this time but from dread.
“Sister Coira has a different background to most of the nuns here,” the abbess finally replied. To Coira’s surprise, the woman’s voice was serene. Raising her chin, she shifted her attention to where Mother Shona stood, facing the abbot. Hands clasped before her, the crucifix about her neck glinting in the light of the surrounding banks of tallow candles, the abbess appeared unruffled. “Before coming to live with us, she had to fend for herself. She developed skills that most women do not.”
The abbess’s attention shifted then to Coira. “I have told ye, child. Ye are safe here. There is no need to keep up such ungodly skills.”
“I am sorry, Mother.” Coira dropped to one knee before the abbess, allowing her to make the sign of the cross above her. “With all the talk of pestilence and outlaws, I grew fearful for our safety here. I wish only to protect the abbey should evil men attack us.”
Coira’s contrition wasn’t feigned. She was truly sorry for putting Mother Shona in this position. She would apologize properly later though, when the abbot wasn’t present.
“Foolish, presumptuous woman.” Father Camron’s harsh voice slammed into her. It grated like a rusty saw. “How dare ye take matters into yer own hands? Have ye not learned to trust in God? Ye have no need to take up arms … not if yer faith is strong enough.” His face twisted then. “Ye are no better than thatwitch, Annella MacNichol. I saw how she wielded knives. Such skill is unnatural in a woman!”
Tearing her gaze from the abbess, and remaining upon one knee, Coira forced herself to look at the abbot. His high colored face had gone the shade of a boiled beet. His dark eyes blazed, and his heavy jaw was locked in rage. Wisely, she did not contradict him. Instead, she swallowed what little pride she had left, clasped her hands before her, and bent her head. “I am sorry, Father. I should know better. Please forgive me for my sin. Please forgive me for my lack of trust.”
A brittle silence settled in the chapter house. The three of them were alone in here. A small mercy at least; Coira was spared an audience to witness her humiliation. Even so, her belly clenched and indignation pulsed like an ember under her breastbone. Her faith was strong these days. Mother Shona had taught them that a nun could do the Lord’s work while learning how to defend herself. There was no shame in it, and it galled her to apologize to the abbot.
It had been years since she’d knelt before a man, and she hated the feeling.
When the abbot spoke again, his voice hadn’t softened. “It is not entirely yer fault, Sister. Mother Shona has clearly been too lenient with ye over the years.” His attention shifted to the abbess, his gaze narrowing. “This transgression should never have happened. Ye should take a rod to this nun for her behavior.”
Coira’s breathing hitched. The heat that pulsed within her now threatened to ignite into a raging furnace. She couldn’t believe the abbot would suggest such a thing, and yet she shouldn’t have been surprised. Just the night before, she’d seen him smack one of his monks around the ear for accidentally spilling some ale during supper.
Shifting her attention back to the abbess, Coira saw, for the first time, Mother Shona’s calm splinter. Her jaw tensed, and she frowned. “There will be no violence here, Father. I have never lifted a hand to any of the nuns here. And I never will.”
Father Camron snorted. “Well, I have no such qualms, Mother. Find me a good stick, a rod of willow will do nicely, and I will see to this nun for ye. He glanced back at Coira, his dark eyes gleaming. “I’ll teach her a lesson she won’t forget.”
“I repeat, Father, there will be no violence at Kilbride.” The steel in Mother Shona’s voice was evident now. She was done holding back her irritation with this man. Coira tensed at this realization. The last thing she wanted was for Mother Shona to lose her temper with the abbot. He could make life very difficult for them all if he so chose.
Witnessing the stand-off between the pair, a hollow sensation lodged itself in the pit of Coira’s belly. Mother Shona wasn’t going to back down—and from the look on the abbot’s face, neither was he.
“Sister Coira knew harsh treatment before coming to live here.” Mother Shona’s voice was low and firm, although the hard edge was still there. “I vowed that she would only ever know kindness within these walls.”
Coira’s throat thickened at these words. It was true; the abbess had always treated her with respect.
However, Mother Shona hadn’t yet finished. “The Sisters of Kilbride entrust me with their well-being. I will not betray that trust,” she continued, her gaze never wavering from the abbot. “Sister Coira will spend the night praying before the altar in the kirk for her transgression. That will be sufficient punishment.”
“That’s not enough,” Father Camron countered, a vein now pulsing in his temple. “Ye need to set an example!”
Mother Shona folded her arms across her chest, her chin lifting as she eyeballed her adversary. “And I am,” she said, her tone hardening. “If one of my flock strays, they will be guided back to the fold. My methods differ from yers, Father, but in the end we both serve our Lord the best we can. That’s all that matters.”
Coira welcomed the solitude and peace inside the kirk. A night here was supposed to be her penance, yet part of her actually looked forward to it.
After supper and Compline, the abbey entered the Great Silence. Usually, she’d have gone to the infirmary to tend to her patient, but the abbess had insisted that she was to go to the kirk immediately to begin her prayers. As such, Coira had sent Sister Mina to attend to Craeg in her stead. The nun would bring the man some gruel and bread, and check that his fever hadn’t returned.
Coira would visit him again in the morning.
