Here in the garden, the branches of the apple trees had not yet budded, their dry arms rattling against the dreary sky. She longed for brighter days when she could begin to make a contribution to Priory life. To use her skills in the garden to put food on the table for the Sister's rather than they supporting her. She bent her head and blew into the cup that Ann had handed as she'd exited the door, the steam warming her cold cheeks, and watched the Prioress approach.
The Reverend Mother Hildegarde eased herself onto the bench, wary of the arthritis that plagued her left hip when the weather was damp.
"This garden has always been my favourite," she said, after a moment. "I tended it as both Novitiate and Sister."
Marion tried to imagine her then as a young girl, her heart broken as Marion's was breaking now. The wrinkled cheeks smooth, perhaps wet with tears, the blue-veined hands unlined and white, soft and unused to the physical toil asked by the Priory in the name of Christ. She failed. They sat in silence, the older woman waiting, experienced in the ways of burdened young women.
"I am with child, nearly three months gone," Marion said.
"Yes. I know," said the Prioress. "Do not look so surprised Marion, the signs are there for those who know them. I am glad you feel you can now tell me."
Marion was taken aback. She was only just sure herself that her one brief night in Robert's arms - the night she had agreed to marry him - had resulted in a child.
"What happens now?" she said, her tone disinterested, resigned to a fate that was no longer hers to control.
"You are hardly the first woman to enter a Convent with child. You may remain here until the child is born. You may choose then whether to stay or leave."
"If I choose to stay what happens to the child?"
"A girl child can be raised here at the Priory, by the Sisters. A son must be sent out either to the Monastery or some other suitable home." Mother Hildegarde paused, regarding Marion with solemn eyes. "I feel that I must warn you, Marion. It is very easy for a young woman in your situation to agree to giving up a child. But once the child is born the wrench is...it is beyond what you are suffering now. Ah, you do not believe that possible. Well, we shall see. You have several months yet to make these decisions and they are not decisions to be taken in haste. Does Robin know of the child?"
Marion was caught unawares for a moment. Of course Robin knows, she thought, I told him in my dream last night that I carried a child. But she caught herself in time, for the Prioress did not mean her Robin, but Robert.
"No, Reverend Mother, I have not told him."
"Then you have a great many decisions to make in the next few months, my child." With a sigh the Prioress rose and pushed herself up from the bench to resume her solitary walk along the cloisters, nodding to Ann who was coming the other way.
Marion studied the girl's face. The bruising was almost gone now, only a slight discolouration beneath one of Ann's brown eyes remained. She smiled tentatively at the older woman and sat beside her, listening careful as Marion told her the Prioress' answer.
"That is good," said Ann approvingly. "At least you are not hounded from the door with the Scourge against your back to speed you on your way."
A small smile touched Marion's lips. Ann loved the dramatic. It amused her greatly to take a small event and embellish it until it was unrecognisable. The girl touched her hand.
"I'll stay m'lady, for as long as you need or want me."
Marion looked down at the tiny hand with its work blunted fingers. The touch was meant to comfort and yet she felt nothing. No warmth entered her being from this show of companionship. What was wrong with her? Had she turned inwards upon herself so much that she could not return a simple gesture?
Troubled, she turned her eyes back across the garden and her thoughts returned to the dreams that haunted her.