After a while they heard a voice. “Who’s knocking at this time of night?”
Nuns went to bed early, Ragna recalled.
Edgar said: “This is Edgar the builder. I’ve brought the lady Ragna from Cherbourg, who commands your hospitality.”
The door was opened by a thin woman of about forty with pale blue eyes. A few strands of gray hair had escaped from her cap. She held a lantern up and looked at the visitors. When she saw Ragna her eyes widened and her mouth opened. It happened a lot: Ragna was used to it.
The nun stood back and let the three women in. Ragna said to Edgar: “Wait a few minutes, please, just in case.”
The nun closed the door.
Ragna saw a pillared room, dark and empty now, but probably the place where the nuns lived when they were not praying in the church. She made out the shadowy silhouettes of two writing desks, and concluded that these nuns copied and perhaps illuminated manuscripts as well as caring for lepers.
The nun who had let them in said: “I’m Mother Agatha, the abbess here.”
Ragna said amiably: “Named after the patron saint of nurses, I assume?”
“And of rape victims.”
Ragna guessed there was a story there, but she did not want to hear it tonight. “These are my maids, Cat and Agnes.”
“I’m glad to welcome you all here. Have you had supper?”
“Yes, thank you, and we’re very tired. Can you give us beds?”
“Of course. Please come with me.”
She led them up a wooden staircase. This was the first building Ragna had seen in England that had an upstairs floor. At the top Agatha turned into a small room lit by a single rush light. There were two beds. One was empty, and in the other was a nun aboutthe same age as Agatha but more rounded, sitting up and looking surprised.
Agatha said: “This is Sister Frith, my deputy.”
Frith stared at Ragna as if she could hardly believe her eyes. There was something in her look that made Ragna think of the way men gazed at her sometimes.
Agatha said: “Get up, Frith. We’re giving up our beds to the guests.”
Frith got out of bed hurriedly.
Agatha said: “Lady Ragna, please take my bed, and your maids can share Frith’s.”
Ragna said: “You’re very kind.”
“God is love,” said Agatha.
“But where will you two sleep?”
“In the dormitory next door, with the other nuns. There’s plenty of room.”
To Ragna’s profound satisfaction the room was pristine. The floor was of bare boards, swept clean. On a table stood a jug of water and a bowl, no doubt for washing: nuns washed their hands a lot. There was also a lectern on which rested an open book. This was clearly a highly literate nunnery. There were no chests: nuns had no possessions.
Ragna said: “This is heavenly. Tell me, Mother Agatha, how did there come to be a convent here on this island?”
“It’s a love story,” said Agatha. “The nunnery was built by Nothgyth, the widow of Lord Begmund. After he died and was buried in the minster, Nothgyth did not wish to remarry, for he was the love of her life. She wanted to become a nun and live near his remains for the rest of her days, so that they would rise together at the Last Judgment.”
“How romantic,” Ragna said.
“Isn’t it?”
“Will you tell young Edgar that he may return to the mainland?”
