by Alex and Catherine

Cat raced through the dormitory, desperate for somewhere to hide. Immaculata had already flushed her out of her usual boltholes: the kitchen, the root cellar, the dairy, the stable. The nun had found them all, one after another. Cat was still free only because she could run faster than the portly Sister, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to outrun Immaculata much longer.

"Catalina!"

Cat whirled. Immaculata came out of the cloister-walk and into the corridor. "Come here this instant, you young hellion!" the nun bellowed, spying her. Cat spun on her heel, making for the night-stairs that led to the chapel. "Don't you dare!" shouted Immaculata, but Cat charged through the door and slammed it behind her.

Sunlight filtered into the stairwell from a window high above the second-floor landing, hardly reaching Cat on the ground floor. She knew the way so well, though, that she had little need of light. Sure-footed, her fingers on the rough stones of the wall to guide her, she fled towards the chapel. Just as she reached the chapel door, she heard the night-stairs door open. Without looking back, she yanked on the door-handle and ducked into the chapel.

With her back against the door, panting, Cat scanned the little church. Her breath caught in her throat. A figure in the habit of a St. Julian's novice stood before the altar.

Behind the door, she could hear Immaculata cursing the darkness of the passage. Cat ran to the altar and the novice." Brother, please," she gasped, clasping her hands before her, "hide me."

~*~

The young man spun round, startled at the sudden intrusion and the indignity of the intruder. His wide brown eyes widened even further when he saw how young she was.

"Who are you?" he asked after a short pause. "Hide you from whom?"

His gaze roamed over her slight figure as he spoke, taking in her fearful grey-blue eyes, the tangle of long dark hair, the dress of rough brown homespun. There was a smudge of something on her left cheek and the beginnings of a rent in one stocking.

Before Cat had the chance to answer, the sound of footsteps rang out from the other side of the chapel door. The handle rattled as someone grabbed it clumsily.

The young novice looked up sharply, and then, in a lightning movement, stretched down to grab Cat by the shoulders and unceremoniously shoved her beneath the nearest pew. She almost yelped at the suddenness of it. As the chapel door opened, he straightened himself and took a surreptitious step to the side, adjusting his robe so that it covered any possible view of the fugitive in her hiding place.

Then he calmly turned his eyes toward the door and acknowledged Sister Immaculata's presence with a slight bow. He did not speak, as the monks of St had taught him.

Julian's that a novice should not speak to his superiors until he was spoken to. Yet he maintained an air of absolute serenity, such that no one--not even the Abbot--would ever have suspected there was anything untoward going on.

~*~

Cat flattened herself beneath the pew, hardly daring to breathe. She could hear the sharp rap of Immaculata's shoes on the flagstones, and she bit down on a knuckle to keep from making any noise.

"Brother," Immaculata said, her voice a little wheezy from her exertions. The black shoes stopped next to the pew, inches from her nose; Cat squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would prevent the nun from seeing her. "Good morning, Brother," Immaculata continued, having almost caught her breath; Cat could imagine her ample bosom heaving beneath her black habit." I dislike disturbing you in your tasks for Father Abbot, but our young ward has . . . strayed from the path of righteousness yet again. I know she came in here; did you see where she went?"

Cat's eyes flew open. Please, the girl prayed, please don't tell her, don't let her see me under here. She reached out to take hold of the coarse white wool of the novice's robe, as if she could transmit her wishes to him with her touch. Her fingers trembled as they found his hem.

~*~

The novice monk allowed his eyebrows to lift, almost imperceptibly. "Your ward, Sister?" he queried, making it plain that he did not know to whom she was referring. "Forgive me. My mind has been on my devotions. I do recall hearing movement at the rear of the chapel, not long ago. But . . ." He spread his hands before him and trailed off.

A small corner of his mind reacted with irritation to the feel of something tugging at the hem of his robe. He shifted his weight, trying to make the movement as unnoticeable as possible, and gently kicked one sandaled foot in the direction of those grasping fingers.

"I'm sorry," he added, with a regretful shrug aimed at Sister Immaculata, losing none of his appearance of calm. "I don't know where your ward might have gone. Although . . ." He paused for effect. "I do believe I felt a slight movement of air, just before the sounds ceased . . ." His gaze drifted towards the small row of high windows at the back of the room.

~*~

Cat had let go of the novice's robe as soon as he'd kicked at her. Now she lay still under the pew, listening. She heard a rustling noise, then a heavy sigh." She would do something as foolish as that, rather than accept her punishment," said Sister Immaculata. "She's a difficult child, constantly into mischief . . ."

Cat clenched her fists at hearing herself thus slandered. A movement distracted her from the nun's next words. She watched a large, silvery-grey mackerel tabby parade down the aisle as if she owned the place. Cat narrowed her eyes at the cat, which stopped by Immaculata's feet and began grooming herself.

" . . . we all have our crosses to bear," Immaculata was saying." I shan't keep you any longer, my son. I must catch that imp before she finds more trouble. Go with God, Brother."

The novice murmured a similar pleasantry in reply.

"Come, Jezebel." Immaculata's arm came down to scoop up the tabby. Cat froze, holding her breath. The nun's shoes tapped across the chapel to the outside door; it squeaked when Immaculata opened it. Cat waited a moment, then peered out at the novice." Is she gone?" she whispered.

~*~

The young man looked down at her, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, she's gone," he replied. Amusement twinkled in his eyes as he bent to give her a hand in crawling out from her hiding place. "And now, considering I just saved you from a fate worse than death, I should think you owe me an explanation. Or at the very least, your name...?"

"I'm Cat," she said, letting him pull her to her feet. "Well, Catalina, really, but nobody calls me that 'cept Sister Immaculata and Sister Assumpta." She absently brushed dust from her dress, glancing around the chapel for observers.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Cat," the novice monk replied with a faint smile. "My name's John. So... you wanna tell me what you did to make Sister Fat Cat there so angry with you...?"

Cat giggled at John's name for Sister Immaculata, but sobered almost immediately. "She's always angry with me," she said. She plopped down on the seat of the pew. "This time, she says I ate a pie that was on the kitchen windowsill." She looked up at John with a defiant light in her eyes. "But it wasn't me! I didn't eat a blueberry pie--see!" She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue for inspection.

John almost burst out laughing at the little girl's insistent and unexpected gesture, but he clamped his lips together and made a show of examining the evidence.

"Hmmn . . ." he murmured as he peered into the pink little mouth with its two rows of small white teeth. "You're right, I don't see any blueberries..."

He smiled and sat down on the end of the other pew, across the aisle from her. "So what happens when she catches you?" he asked quietly. "I can't hide you forever, you know..."

Cat closed her mouth. "I know," she replied, just as quietly. She heaved a sigh that seemed bigger than she was. "I dunno what she'll do. She's really mad this time. Mostly, she just gives me extra chores, but . . . I don't know." She lowered her voice to a loud whisper. "She says that she'd like to send me to the orphanage sometimes." Her lip quivered at the thought.

John's eyebrows dipped a little. Orphanages were not nice places - He would never forget his own gratitude to Lord Edward for taking him into the Ashby household after the death of his parents. It was an accepted, if unspoken, fact that orphaned children became either thieves on the streets, or slaves in an orphanage. For girl children, the options were often even worse.

"You mustn't let her," he murmured without thinking. "Orphanages are no place for nice little girls..."

"Sister Immaculata would say I wasn't a nice little girl," Cat responded. "I try to be good, I really do, but sometimes, it's so hard. I mean, when Sister Giavanna takes me to the orphanage with her when she goes to teach at the school, I want to play nice with the other boys 'n' girls, but they call me names and push me down, so I get mad an' . . ." She looked down at her hands, then back up at John. "An' I push 'em back." She paused, gazing at the rows of votive candles flickering down the nave. "They're just so mean, sometimes," she whispered.

John smiled a little at the girl's innocence. She was never going to be street-wise, being brought up in a convent, but he liked her spirit. Had he been a little older and more worldly-wise himself, he might have wondered what was likely to become of such a girl when she grew up, especially if she didn't start conforming to convent life a little better. But he was young, and he had the tendency of the young not to look too far into the future.

"Well, I say, hooray for you," he smiled at her, thinking he was doing well to encourage her spirit and individuality. "There are some pretty mean people in the world, and you shouldn't let them push you around." He punctuated his words with a playful, two-fingered push on her little shoulder.

Cat tried a little smile, which quickly grew into a grin under John's warm brown gaze. "Then I won't," she declared, reaching over to push the novice in return, and she giggled.

John drew a theatrical gasp and tipped sideways in response to the little tyke's push. After pretending to struggle to keep his balance for a moment, he fell out of the pew onto the chapel floor, arms and legs flailing and eyes wide with feigned surprise at her strength.

Cat clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle her laughter. "You're funny," she said when she could speak again. "I like you." She pulled her feet onto the pew to brace herself and reached down to help John up.

The young man grinned and extended his hand to clasp hers, allowing her to take as much of his weight as he thought she could handle. He settled himself back on his seat and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward across the aisle so that his face was only a couple of feet from hers.

"So how did you come to be here, anyway, Cat?" he asked, his head cocked slightly to one side.

"Sister Giavanna found me when I was a baby," the girl replied. "In a basket, outside the alms-gate." She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, as if infants were found in baskets outside convents every day. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she rested her chin on her knees, tugging her hem down her shins. "Mother Augustine said she could keep me."

She peered at John from beneath the tangle of dark hair that had fallen into her face. "You look sad," she said, after a moment.

John took a sudden deep breath and sat up a little straighter, attempting to clear his features of the intense compassion he found himself feeling. He wasn't sure how to answer her. He could hardly tell her how tragic he found it, that she had been discarded by her natural parents like that. . .

After a moment, though, a suitable lie came to him. "Oh, I'm just feeling sorry for myself because I didn't have so many wonderful ladies to love me when I was your age." He covered his emotions with a grin. "My mother died when I was very little."

"Oh," Cat breathed, "oh, that's awful. That's the awfullest thing . . ." She couldn't imagine having a mother, then losing her. Sliding off the pew, she crossed to where the novice sat and climbed up beside him. "Did your father die, too?" She hugged her knees to her chest again, as if for protection. "Are--are you an orphan?" She almost added "like me," but somehow kept the words from rolling off her tongue. Most of the time, she didn't think of herself as an orphan. Orphans didn't live in abbeys; they didn't have a whole convent full of nuns to love and care for them. But every once in a while, she'd remember that she had no parents, and that fact alone made her an orphan.

John smiled sadly at her before his long lashes dipped to cover his eyes. "Yeah," he answered. "My father died a few years ago. But I hardly ever saw him anyway--he was always off fighting wars and things. The Earl of Ashby is more like a father to me than my father was."

"Oh," Cat murmured. She knew who the Earl was; he'd donated money and builders when the abbey had needed repairs a few months earlier.

John looked up again, and then grinned, reaching out impulsively to stroke the little girl's hair. "I guess that gives us a lot in common, huh? Neither of us ever really knew our parents... But that's okay, because we've got plenty of other people to love us instead!" His grin widened, and he ruffled her hair softly in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Cat managed to smile, liking the feel of a friendly hand mussing her hair. "Yeah, I guess we do," she said. She looked around the chapel. "Is Father Abbot here, too?" Even as she said it, she felt faintly embarrassed. Of course Father Abbot was here somewhere; monks--especially novices--didn't just "happen by" St. Bridget's. They needed special permission, and most of the time the abbot accompanied any who came.

"Yeah, he is. I wouldn't be allowed to come here alone," John answered, as though reading her thoughts. "He's in the vestibule--but he took a pretty big book in with him, so he'll be there for ages. He's always trying to find somewhere private to read his books." His lips curled upward in a conspiratorial smile as he added, "I'm supposed to be praying while I wait for him."

At that moment, Cat's sharp ears picked up a sound. Her heart jumped in her chest, and the girl grabbed the novice's wide sleeve. "It's Sister Immaculata again!" she whimpered, eyes wide with terror. "What'll we do?"

John's ears took a moment longer than Cat's to pick up the sound, but then he heard it, too. Having found no evidence of the child's presence outside, the nun must be returning to the chapel for another look. There wasn't time to hide the girl again, and he didn't want to risk it a second time anyway.

Swiftly, he pushed Cat into the aisle and stood, snapping, "Get on your knees." Cat did as she was told, dropping to the floor without question, trusting that John had a plan.

As the door handle turned, the novice folded his hands under his long sleeves and looked down on the top of Cat's sweet little head.

"... But as you have confessed your sin, and Father Abbot has given his instructions for your penance," he said, making sure his voice was loud enough to carry to the doorway, "you are now absolved of any wrongdoing. Let none pass judgement where the Lord has bestowed His forgiveness..."

Cat bowed her head, acting the good penitent. Part of her wondered if this wasn't blasphemous, pretending to have confessed to Father Abbot, but another, defiant part recalled that she had no sin to confess. She pressed her palms together as she had been taught, trying to ignore the cold flagstones under her knees. She heard a step somewhere along the nave; all at once, prayer didn't seem like a bad idea. Closing her eyes, she lowered her head until her nose touched her fingertips.

Immaculata had paused on the threshold and now stared with suspicion at John. Her gaze flicked from the novice to the girl and back, several times; Cat opened one eye a slit and peered at the nun.

"Oh! Sister...!" John said, with an utterly convincing act of surprise. Rather than launch into a guilty-sounding explanation, he simply waited for the nun to speak.

Cat heard a peculiar grating noise; it took her a moment to realize that Sister Immaculata was grinding her teeth. She opened her eyes and lifted her head to look around at the nun. Immaculata took a step into the aisle, as if to take in the scene before her better. She produced a brittle-looking smile that made Cat shiver. "Well, Brother, I see you've found our ward," she said. "My, my, Catalina, what tricks have you been up to now?"

Cat looked up at John, silently pleading.

It took the young novice no more than a couple of seconds to get his thoughts together. He gave the formidable Bride of Christ a demure smile. "Ah, I wish I could take credit for that, sister," he said humbly, "but the truth is, it was Father Abbot who found her."

He surprised even himself with this brazen lie. "And as you know, our beloved Father Abbot has a way of coaxing confessions from sinners. He merely entrusted me with the formality of offering absolution..."

And to cement his abject falsehood with actions as well as words, he made the sign of the

Cross over Cat's head and then offered her his hand. "Rise now, Catalina," he said softly, "your sins are forgiven."

Before the child had the chance to obey, though, John's attention was drawn to the sound of a door opening somewhere in the chapel, and he looked up suddenly, his heart thumping. He was certain this was the Abbot himself, come to expose his blasphemous infamy and have him stripped of his novitiate...

Cat grabbed John's proffered hand and squeezed, seeing the alarm on his face. She turned to see two black-habited forms enter behind Sister Immaculata. A grin spread across her face, and the girl used her grip on the novice's hand to pull herself to her feet.

"Well, Sister, it would appear that Cat's repented," said Sister Giavanna. Immaculata turned and scowled at her. "I have only this novice's word for that," she replied.

"Would you doubt one of Father Abbot's flock, Immaculata?" retorted Magdalena. "The man himself is contemplating a very large tome in our vestibule as we speak. I can fetch him to testify as to this young man's honesty, if you like. Though I understand," she added, casting a mischievous glance in John's direction, "that the abbot dislikes being disturbed when he's reading."

Immaculata blanched somewhat. "No, no need to disturb Father Abbot," she said. She heaved a sigh. "If the lad says she confessed, then I suppose it'll have to do." She looked daggers at Cat before sweeping out of the chapel again.

Sister Giavanna watched her go, then hurried to where Cat stood with John. She knelt and pulled the child into her arms. "Oh, dear heart," she murmured, stroking Cat's hair. "We had an awful fright when we couldn't find you."

"Sister," Cat began, looking up at the nun, "Brother John just--"

Giavanna hushed her. "No matter," she said. "Confession is . . . a private matter." She gave John a conspiratorial smile, which the novice readily returned. His relief was palpable at seeing his impish little friend treated so warmly by two of her guardians, after the harsh coldness of Sister Immaculata. He knew, now, that however lonely her childhood at the convent might be, she would always have allies amongst the sisters of St. Bridget's.

Rising to her feet, the nun wiped at the smudge on the child's cheek, then took her by the hand. "Come, sweeting, let's get you cleaned up."

Cat let go of Giavanna's hand and took John's. "Will you come and see me again?" she asked, looking into his face.

John smiled affectionately at her. "I'll try," he promised, squatting to her level. "I hope we can be friends for a long, long time, Cat. I like you." His eyes twinkled as his fingers reached out to chuck her gently on the chin.

Friends . . . Her eyes lit up at the word, and Cat threw her arms about John's neck. "Me, too," she said into his ear.

The novice wrapped his arms around her wiry little body and squeezed her gently with his big, graceful hands.

After a moment, Cat released her hold on the novice and reached for Sister Giavanna's hand. "'Bye, John," she said, almost shyly, giving him a wave as the nun led her out of the chapel. "See you soon."

Once they had gone, Sister Magdalena approached John. "Thank you, Brother," she said with a smile. "That was very brave of you. Many a stout heart has quailed in the face of Sister Immaculata's wrath."

John's gaze remained fixed on his new friend until the door closed behind her. Only then did the novice stand up straight once more and look to the nun who'd remained in the chapel with him. His lips seemed to be fixed in a permanent smile.

"Sister Immaculata is indeed... formidable..." he replied dryly, hoping that the nun would not think him insolent or cheeky.

Magdalena smirked at the young man's tone. "You seem to have won our little girl's heart quite completely," she added. "I'll ask Mother Augustine to have a word with Father Roger about a special dispensation or something that'll let you visit as often as possible." Her smile widened into a grin. "We'll call it an act of charity." She laid a hand on the young man's shoulder. "You have a kind heart, Brother John. Go with God." She turned to follow Giavanna and Cat, passing the large tabby that had somehow wormed her way into the chapel again and now sat in a sunny spot, grooming.

"Thank you, Sister," John answered. He sighed wistfully as he watched her leave. His parting words to Cat had not been empty platitudes: he truly felt he had found a kindred spirit in the little waif. Perhaps it was because they had never really known their parents, and they had both been thrust into a life and a community to which they weren't sure they belonged, simply because there was nowhere else for them to go. Or maybe it went deeper than that. Perhaps there was something about her fierceness of spirit and her untamed fun-loving nature that reminded him of himself in the days before Lady Audra had come to Ashby Castle.

Or perhaps he hoped that, in some way, this unexpected friendship with Cat might help to fill the void that had been left in his life by his separation from the Earl's daughter. Rowena had been like a little sister to him, until Lord Edward and Lady Audra had shipped him off to the monastery like so much unwanted baggage. He missed Rowena desperately, and not a day passed when he didn't wonder how she was and what she was doing, and whether she missed him, too.

John sighed again, and shuffled over to squat down beside the plump tabby cat who was paying loving attention to her grey paws. He reached out to scritch the top of the creature's head with his fingertips. She had unusual colouring, he thought distractedly, noting the slight bluish tint to the fur that she was so painstakingly washing. Even the little pink tongue darting in and out of her mouth seemed to have a purple hue to it.

Suddenly his memory flashed back to Cat, poking out her tongue to prove to him that there was no blueberry stain on it . . . and then it dawned on him.

"You!" he exclaimed, using his fingertips to extract the unmistakeable evidence from the cat's whiskers. "What's this?" he demanded, shoving his blueberry-covered fingertips under her nose.

Unconcerned, the tabby paused in her washing for a moment, and then she leaned forward to lick the sweet fruit from the man's skin.

John laughed. "Oh, yeah . . . okay . . . you got away with it this time," he threatened the cat with a grin. "But we'll get you one day. No friend of mine is going to be your scapegoat, you furry fiend. You watch your back, you hear?"

And then, still chuckling, he returned to the post where Father Abbot had left him. He resumed his pretence of praying while he waited for the abbot to return, but it was a long while before he stopped smiling.

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