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The women in grey laughed and shook their heads.
But the fierce one looked crosser than ever. “Did no one teach you such practises are wicked, child? If you are afraid of anything, you should pray and God will… He must surely hear the prayers of a child.”
She looked sad and worried. Maybe someone she loved got lost in the storm, like my mam. I wanted to give her a hug to make her feel better, but I was too scared of her.
servant martha
tHE INFIRMARY WAS PEACEFUL and quiet after the mess and chaos of the village. I paced slowly from cot to cot, blessing the occupants. Ralph waved at me respectfully. The twisted child lay cradled asleep in his lap. I longed to climb into one of the cots myself and sleep for a month.
The pain in my arm kept me awake most nights and I used the prick of it to drive me to my knees in prayer. That at least I should have been able to do, keep vigil through the dark hours. Even if my limbs were hacked off, my tongue torn out, my eyes blinded, and my ears sealed, I should still have been able to perform the work of prayer. But I could not pray. Healing Martha’s distorted face floated constantly beneath the surface of my thoughts like one drowned.
If I had gone back to look for Healing Martha, instead of following Gwenith’s granddaughter, could I have protected her? If I’d had the faith and courage to fight that demon, could I have saved her? But the question that tormented me the most, the one I could not push away, was why had she been chosen to face that battle alone and not me? Was her faith so much greater than mine?
I stood before His altar and held in my hands the deepest mysteries of life, both of this world and the next. It was my words that transformed base bread and wine into His very flesh and blood for others to consume. But I was only the ditch through which water flowed, leaving me behind, empty and cold. Yet what right had I to ask for anything more? A priest is but an instrument, a knife, a spoon, a bowl. When all is said and done, it is women’s work, this feeding.
I finally made my way to the bedside of my old friend. I’d wanted to move Healing Martha back to her own room, but I knew it wasn’t practical to do so. Andrew could be left for hours at a time, except in her last few days, but Osma
Healing Martha smelled of lavender and stale urine. She’d slipped down the cot and her head was lolling to the side liked a hanged man. She peered at me with her open eye and her good fist clutched at the coverlet.
“Gar.”
“What is it, Healing Martha, what are you trying to say?”
She took a harsh breath. “Gar. Gar. Gar!” she shouted, her good hand pounding her leg in frustration.
I couldn’t believe that such a fury could emanate from any so weak, let alone Healing Martha. Osma
“Is that what she was asking for? To be lifted up?”
Osma
“I dare say it has no more meaning than a baby’s cry. How is she?”
“She’s quiet most of the time, staring for hours into space and I don’t know if she is awake or sleeping. Sometimes, Servant Martha…” she hesitated and glanced uneasily back at the spectre in the bed, “when I look at her she’s weeping. I can’t tell if it’s because she’s in pain. I don’t know if I should give her something.”
“Healing Martha would not weep for pain. Look how she suffered with her back without complaint these many years. She weeps for the evil she has seen. Her tears are prayers, Osma
Osma
“You look weary, Osma
“I don’t mind. I want to.”
“I’m glad of it, but get yourself some ale and take it out in the courtyard. The cold air will revive you. I’ll watch here.”
She smiled gratefully and walked away, her feet dragging in the rushes.
I took Healing Martha’s right hand. It lay like a dead fish in mine. I squeezed it, but there was no response.
“I’ve neglected you, Healing Martha. Forgive me. You know that I’d spend every day at your bedside if I was free to do so, but I’m not. The women are frightened. They depended too much upon you. I’m guilty for not having recognised it long ago. They shouldn’t depend on any save God alone. I must show them that the beguinage will continue without you. I can’t be seen to keep vigil over you as if I too missed you.”
Her expression didn’t change.
“In a few days we are to elect a new Martha. Someone must take responsibility for the infirmary. Not that she will ever replace you,” I added hastily. “I’ve prayed these past days for guidance, Healing Martha, but I’m no closer to the answer, for there’s no one who clearly stands out as your successor, no one who has your skill and maturity. I wish you could be with us in the meeting. You could always examine a seedling and tell which way it would grow.”
Healing Martha made no response. Her head lay at ease where Osma
But Osma
I leaned closer to Healing Martha. “Is that what you meant the night of the storm, when you said, ‘The fault in the pupil is the virtue in the leader’? That we should make Osma
Healing Martha’s eyes did not flicker.
I squeezed her hand. “I know the Marthas think I should never have taken you out that night. They do not say it to my face, but I see the reproach in their eyes whenever they speak of you. And their condemnation is nothing compared to my own guilt over what I’ve done to you. But God ordered us to bury the dead. I was doing what God commanded and I trusted Him to keep faith with us.
“I have searched alone in that place since and there’s no trace of either the baby or that poor woman’s corpse. Aldith’s body simply vanished. But it was there. The woman had been ripped apart. We both saw it. I touched it. Did the Owlman devour them both? If that’s so, I not only failed you, my old friend, I failed to protect the soul of the child Aldith entrusted to me. I’ve always believed that faith could defend me against anything. But where was God that night? Why did He abandon me?”
Healing Martha’s good eye opened and I realised I was shaking her arm. Tears trickled down, settling in the wrinkles of her face. “Ga,” she whispered. Her face twisted into a devil’s mask as she struggled to make the animal sound. That demon had destroyed her mind and body as surely as if he had eaten her from the inside.