The Six Maidens

Chapter 10: The End

Della and Jane walked up the muddy dirt path. By the time they reached the vast, castle-like building, they were soaked up to their knees. Della couldn't feel her feet. The gloves Alice gave her were good, lamb skin, so her hands were warm. For now. But the howling wind whipped right through her dress and sleeves, so her arms and torso were icy. They knocked, and waited. And knocked, and waited.

Eventually, an elderly nun answered the door. She was tall, and broad shouldered, with a thin face. Her brown eyes had a harsh look to them.

"Yes?" She asked.

"We're um. Seeking, to join you." Jane said.

"Why?" She asked.

"My father was a scholar. I want to work on manuscripts." Jane said.

"I... I just want to serve." Della said.

"You want to be fed, you mean."

The nun squinted at them, as if wanting food were the lowest kind of sin. The girls felt like she was peering into their souls.

"Have you any money?" She asked, her eyes saying she knew the answer.

"No." They said together.

"No dowry?" They shook their heads.

"No prominent family members?" They shook their heads again.

"So, you'll be expecting meals, but have no assets to bring to our fine Order."

They squirmed inside, feeling like worms in the presence of a goddess.

"You know, I can take you to the Abbess, Mother Sophia. But she almost never accepts girls from poor families."

And so she did, leading them down serpentine corridors. They passed a group of nuns praying in a chapel. They walked a hall that on one side opened into the courtyard, where others were tending cabbages and feeding chickens. They crossed this hall and went up a spiral staircase to the Abbess' room.

"Yes?" The Abbess called when the nun guiding them knocked on her door. She sounded annoyed.

"Two young ones want to join us." Their guide called.

"Send them in, and I'll speak to them privately."

"May I go, Mother?"

"Yes."

Mother Sophia was also a hard-looking, imposing woman. She was also tall, but with blue eyes and fair skin. She looked almost like a female Viking warrior maiden disguised as a nun.

"That sister... uh..."

"Her name is Sister Clarice." The Abbess said.

"Sister Clarice said you never take girls from poor families?" Jane asked.

"Usually. We make exception if a girl is exceptionally educated. Then we can put them to work in the scriptorum. Our manuscripts are our means of living."

"Oh yes, that was what Alice told us. We have a letter of recommendation from a woman named Alice, in Denburg." Della said.

"I don't know of this Alice."

"She would have been an oblate here as a youth, but she kept starting trouble, and ran away several times." Della said.

"So you want to be admitted on the word of some troublemaker?" the Abbess asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She's a good person now." Jane said. "She gave us food and clothing."

"Many who were rough when they were younger change their ways. I myself was also rough when younger. But those days are gone. I have since grown accustomed to hard work and responsibility."

"I am educated. My father was a scholar who copied the Bible. I know Latin and Greek." Jane said.

"And what about you?" the Abbess asked. She pointed at Della and gave her a piercing stare.

"I uh... I'm just a shepherd's daughter. We're from the same village, Derlain."

"You, leave. You," she pointed to Jane, "Come with me, and I'll show you around. You're our newest postulant. Once you take vows, of course."

Della dropped to her knees with despair, and cried. She was too emotional, so words would not come.

"Della's my friend! I would not have made it here without her!" Jane cried.

"Oh come dear. You'll make new friends here. We just can't afford to take everyone." The Abbess patted Jane on the shoulder.

"CLARICE!" the Abbess called, as she left her room, with Jane and Della following her.

"Yes mother!" They could hear echoing stomps as Clarice ran towards them down endlessly long stone corridors.

"Escort this 'Della' girl out. I have accepted this one, Jane, the one with short hair. I want her in intense training as soon as possible. She knows Latin and Greek, and can read and write." She turned to Jane. "Yeh better not be lyin' about that, girl, or we'll have you out on the wheel."

"No Mother, I am truthful, I swear it, by my eternal soul!" Jane said. She walked with her new Mother to the courtyard, showing Jane around their little farm. Della was dragged by Sister Clarice the way they had come in, but this time, Sister Clarice was securely holding Della's wrist, and would not let go.

When they got to the entrance, Clarice kicked Della in the bottom, making her fall forward down the steps.

"Come back and we'll probably kill you." Sister Clarice said. She slammed the heavy oaken door shut.

Della had nothing left to do but trek down the long, winding path back to the road. It was raining again, and hard. Alone, Della became determined to make her way to the capital.

At least I'll get to see it, the grandeur of the city, before I starve to death, she thought bitterly. She was angry at the world, for taking her friends from her. She had left on this journey assuming they would always be at her side. Now, she felt like a general whose troops had all deserted. I still have a battle to fight, though. Did she? Was there anything she still needed to fight for? She was just hungry and tired, and unable to do anything but move forward, continuing the way she had been continuing.

Her whole journey up to this point had been one month, and she knew she needed to walk for another straight. She stopped counting the days. She stopped caring about time. She walked when she could walk, and went to sleep when she was tired, and these cycles of walking and sleeping soon held little correspondence with the natural cycles of day and night. She could feel herself growing stronger, more bold. Without friends and without food, all she had was her own strength, and she needed it to increase, and it seemed that it did.

It got to where there was snow every day, though this was much earlier than usual, at least it was in Derlain. Jane, strong as she was, had a body that was slowly dying. It needed food. But she was still unable to hunt. She might have survived longer if she had asked passing travelers for food, but she was too proud to beg. Or maybe she was too afraid of what they might do to her. Passing aristocrats and merchants sneered at Della, with her dirty, unfashionable clothing, lack of jewelry, lack of a sophisticated hairdo. She hated looking like a beggar, a vagabond. But she was a vagabond. But she could at the least hold her head high, and refuse further pity or charity. She remembered that The Bible taught her that those who did not work should not eat. Her plan was to look for work in the city, as a house servant, assistant to a craftsman, or as farm help. She could help with all sorts of work, and if given any opportunity, she would have applied herself with all her strength.

But by the time she reached the gates of that glorious city, Della's body was finally thoroughly exhausted, from her long trek with no food. She dropped, fainting, expecting it to just be a sleep, for a little while, from which she would soon wake. But she never did.