by Catherine Thompson

Cat sat on the roof of St. Bridget's, the breeze ruffling her long dark hair. She hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin atop them. Her dress of brown homespun rode up her shins, and she gave a couple of half-hearted tugs at the hem. She continued to gaze out over the town, picking out landmarks like the nearby monastery of St. Julian and distant Ashby Castle.

"Catalina?" Sister Immaculata's sharp voice broke in upon her musings. Cat wrinkled her nose at her full name. "Catalina, I know you're up there. Come down at once!"

Cat sighed. "Yes, Sister," she called. She scrambled up the slope of the roof to the belfry and climbed in through an archway, then down the ladder to the staircase. Sister Immaculata awaited her, moon-face flushed with exertion, black habit smudged with dust. "Come along, you young imp," she said, taking Cat by the arm and marching her down the stairs. "You've chores to do."

"But I did them!" Cat protested, trying to free herself. The nun's fingers clamped down. "Not these ones, you haven't," Immaculata growled.

Cat gave up and let Immaculata drag her through the abbey to the chapel. "Bishop Dominic is coming tomorrow," the nun reminded her. "The chapel must be spotless for His Grace's arrival."

Cat gaped. The chapel wasn't very large, but she was a small ten-year-old. Immaculata rummaged in a box and came up an earthenware pot and a cloth. "You're to polish the altar-rail."

Almost sighing with relief, Cat took the pot of wax and the rag. "Yes, Sister."

"After that," said Immaculata, as Cat started working on the altar-rail, "clean the silver candelabra."

Cat bowed her head to her task. "Yes, Sister."

When the bell tolled for Vespers, she was still there. She packed away the cleaning things and took her place in the very last pew. Mother Abbess led the service of the hour, which was thankfully brief, then everyone retired to the refectory for the evening meal. Cat could only pick at her mutton stew, her arms aching.

"Cat, are you all right?" asked Sister Giavanna in a whisper, her sweet face marked with concern. Cat managed a smile for the nun in charge of the orphanage's school. "Yes, Sister," she whispered back. "I'm just tired."

"And no wonder," chimed in Sister Magdalena, sitting on Cat's right. She brushed back the child's hair with a tender hand. "Immaculata had the poor girl slaving away in the chapel all afternoon."

"Po-faced cow," muttered Sister Jerome from across the table; Giavanna and Magdalena had to cover their mouths to prevent themselves from laughing aloud. Once they had composed themselves, they turned back to Cat. "Here, love," said Magdalena, pressing a slice of bread on the girl. "Go on to bed. I'll save you some stew, in case you're hungry later." Cat thanked her and eased off the bench.

"Where is that child going?" demanded an imperious voice that stopped her in her tracks. She turned to face Mother Assumpta. The abbess stared at Cat as if she were something to be scraped off one's boot.

Sister Giavanna rose. "I've excused Catalina from table, Mother Abbess," she said. Assumpta turned her glare on the young nun. "Do you dare to give that child permission to leave without asking me?"

"Catalina is tired, Mother Abbess," said Giavanna.

"She will sit down and finish her meal," Assumpta responded.

Magdalena muttered something that sounded like, "Bugger the old mare," and rose from her seat. "She's too tired to eat, Mother Abbess. She worked all afternoon in the chapel."

"If she's too tired to eat, then she shan't have anything. Take that bread from her."

"I will not!" Magdalena defied the abbess. "I won't starve the girl."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Spoons rested on plates. Cat didn't dare breathe. Mother Assumpta and Sister Magdalena glowered at each other. "Remove the child." Assumpta waved a hand in Cat's direction. Magdalena swept out of the room, taking Cat with her.

The nun fumed the whole way to the little cell where the girl slept. Cat trailed behind, feeling miserable, afraid Magdalena had got into trouble on her account. She said as much to the sister. Magdalena smiled. "Cat, my love, don't you worry. Mother Assumpta is a sour-faced old crone, but there's nothing she can do to me." She opened the door and ushered Cat in.

Cat sat down on the bed, yawning. Magdalena smiled at her. "Oh, Cat," she murmured. "Here, lie down." She took the bread from the girl's hand and put it on the nightstand. Cat started to lie down, then sat up again. "Wait, I have to feed Squeaker."

"Have you still got that animal?" Magdalena pretended exasperation, grinning now. "Where is he?"

"In his box." Cat reached under the bed and withdrew a wooden box lined with a scrap of blue cloth. A field-mouse, looking glossy and well-fed, peered over the rim. "Hullo, Squeaker," Cat said, stroking the mouse's head with a finger. "Here you go." She broke off a crust of bread. The mouse squeaked at her, taking the crust in its forepaws, and it darted under its blanket. Cat replaced the box under the bed.

"Now, you should rest, love," Magdalena urged. She drew the blanket over Cat, tucking her in with gentle hands. Magdalena then seated herself on the edge of the bed and, stroking the child's hair, she began to sing:

I brought my love a pear;
He gave me it to eat.
I gave my love a cherry;
He told me it was sweet.
Cherry-oh, cherry-oh,
Sweet, ripe, and lovely-oh!
Cherry-oh, cherry-oh,
Red, ripe, and juicy-oh!

"Hardly an appropriate cradle-song, Sister." Cat had nearly gone to sleep when Sister Giavanna spoke. She kept her eyes closed as Giavanna asked, "Is she asleep?"

"Yes," Magdalena replied in a whisper. "Poor lamb. Whatever possessed Immaculata?"

"Mother Abbess," Giavanna said, her tone dry. "Assumpta believes in exorcising sin through physical labour."

"Sin!" Magdalena snorted. "Cat's never had even a sinful thought."

Not true, thought Cat. I wished Sister Immaculata would choke on her stew. Of course, when Father Abbot came to perform Sunday Mass, she would confess her sin to him.

"Things would be different if Mother Augustine were alive," Magdalena continued.

"Of course they would be," Giavanna agreed, "but Mother Augustine has been dead nearly six months." She sighed. "Come on, Maggie. Let's continue this elsewhere. We don't want to wake her." Cat didn't stir when first Magdalena, then Giavanna kissed her lightly on the forehead. Only when the door had been shut did she lean out of the bed and pull out Squeaker's box. The mouse climbed up her arm and snuggled in the crook of her neck. "Good night, Squeaker," Cat whispered before drifting off.

After breakfast the next morning, a grave-looking Sister Giavanna called Cat to her. "Mother Abbess wants to see us," she explained, leading the girl into the abbess' meeting-chamber. Mother Assumpta looked up from the scroll before her. "Ah, Sister, very good." She put the scroll aside and folded her hands on her broad desk. Giavanna stood across from her, a hand resting on Cat's shoulder. "Yes, Mother Abbess?" she prompted when Assumpta didn't speak for several moments.

"Sister, it is time that we discussed the disposition of that child," the abbess inclined her head at Cat. "She belongs in the orphanage."

Cat felt Giavanna squeeze her shoulder. "Mother, Catalina has lived with us--"

"Since the day she was left on our doorstep as an infant, yes, I'm aware of that. The fact remains, she's an orphan."

"We are Catalina's family--"

"We are nothing of the kind, Sister." Mother Assumpta fixed Cat with a cold eye; Cat shrank against Giavanna, letting the sister draw her into the folds of her habit. "She was conceived in sin, and sin breeds nothing but evil."

"You can't know Cat's born of sin!" Giavanna protested. "Her parents could very well have been married--perhaps her mother died in childbed, and her father couldn't care for an infant. Besides, did not our Lord say, 'Suffer the little children to come unto me'?"

The abbess took up a quill pen and dipped it into the inkwell on the desk before writing on the scroll. "As of tomorrow, the child will be removed to the orphanage." She spoke with an air of finality.

"Father Abbot shall hear of this!" Giavanna threatened. "And the bishop, too."

Mother Assumpta gave the nun a thin smile. "You are dismissed, Sister." Cat could tell by her expression that the abbess knew Sister Giavanna wouldn't dare approach the bishop on this matter. Terror overwhelmed her at the thought of being banished to the orphanage, and Cat very softly began to sob, burying her face in Giavanna's habit.

The sister knelt and pulled the child to her. "There, there, Cat," she soothed, stroking her hair and rubbing her trembling back. "There, there, dear."

"I don't wanna go to the orphanage!" Cat wailed between sobs. "Please, Sister, don't let Mother Abbess put me in the orphanage!"

"Sister!" Mother Assumpta's voice was strident. "Remove that child from my presence at once!"

"Yes, Mother Abbess." Giavanna spoke through clenched teeth. She rose, taking Cat by the hand, and led the girl from the abbess' chamber.

Back in Cat's cell, Sister Giavanna dried the child's tears while Magdalena looked on. "The orphanage!" the auburn-haired nun muttered over and over. "How could Assumpta say that?" She looked up from twisting her handkerchief in fury. "I for one am not going to allow it! Cat belongs here."

"There may not be anything we can do about it, Maggie," said Giavanna. "I can speak to Father Roger, but as for the bishop . . ."

"We can't give up, Gia! Cat--well, Cat's one of us, our baby sister."

Giavanna looked up. Cat watched her face, which held a thoughtful expression. "Our baby sister . . . yes," the nun murmured. Giavanna turned back to Cat. "Cat, love, how would you feel about becoming a novice?"

"A--a novice?" Cat stammered, still hiccoughing with sobs. "You--you mean, join the Order?"

"You wouldn't have to actually join," Sister Giavanna said. "But if you express an interest to the bishop, Mother Assumpta can't refuse to consider you as a potential novice when you're old enough."

"Of course," Sister Magdalena murmured. "Gia, you're brilliant!"

"You'll be allowed to stay." Giavanna hugged Cat.

Cat snuffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Okay," she agreed.

"The bishop will be here this afternoon," Giavanna told the girl. "After Vespers, we'll bring you to see him, with Mother Abbess, and you'll tell him that you want to join the Order."

Magdalena laughed. "I can't wait to see the look on Assumpta's face!"

"I don't care what she looks like," said Giavanna, "as long as she doesn't figure out what we're trying to do. This plan's got some holes in it, big ones."

"Such as?"

"Such as Cat's never said that she wants to become a nun, for one."

"Leave that to me, Gia. I'm sure I can gather a few sisters who've heard Cat declare herself for the Order many times." Magdalena gave them a sly smile and left the room.

Sister Giavanna brushed the hair back from Cat's face. "All right, then, you've chores to do, dear heart." She kissed Cat on the forehead, then followed Magdalena.

Cat remained where she was, her thoughts in turmoil. She hadn't the faintest idea of how to convince the bishop, let alone Mother Assumpta, that she wanted to join the Order. She knew that if this scheme failed, she'd be sent to the orphanage. The thought made her stomach queasy and brought tears to her eyes again.

Pulling out Squeaker's box, Cat scooped her pet up in one hand. "I'm scared, Squeaker," she whispered, stroking the mouse's grey-brown back with her fingers. Squeaker chirruped to her, then climbed to her shoulder, where he perched, still muttering to himself. Cat smiled. "C'mon," she said, catching the mouse and depositing him in the pocket of her dress. "We've got work to do."

She went about her daily chores. As she worked the hand-pump, poked the broom into corners, and scattered corn to the abbey's small flock of hens, Cat wondered what she could say to the bishop. She thought about asking Sister Magdalena for help, but whenever she saw the nun, she was engaged in conversation with one or another of the sisters. At one point, Magdalena caught Cat's eye and winked. Cat smiled, but didn't know why.

About mid-afternoon, Cat looked to Sister Sophia, whom she was assisting with dinner preparations. "Why're they ringing the chapel bell?"

Sister Sophia dropped her knife on the chopping-board. "Gracious saints! The bishop's here." She wiped her hands on her apron, which she then removed and dropped onto the counter. "Come along, Catalina. We've to greet His Grace."

The entire complement of nuns had gathered in St. Bridget's small courtyard. Cat scanned the faces until she saw Magdalena and Giavanna, heads bent together as they conversed. She made her way through the crowd to them.

Nudging past Sister Beatrice, a rather stout woman, Cat felt something move in her pocket. She glanced down to see a pair of bright black eyes peering up at her. "Squeaker!" she exclaimed in a whisper, dismayed to realize that she'd forgotten about her pet. "Oh, no, Squeaker, you mustn't, you have to stay in there." Gently, she pushed the mouse back into his hiding-place. "Stay there," she admonished again.

Giavanna smiled when Cat approached. "Come here, love," she said. Cat joined the sisters.

"It's all set," assured Magdalena, stroking the child's hair. "Sister Jerome, Sister Winnifred, Sister Agnes, and Sister Perpetua have all agreed to our plan."

"But I don't know what to say to His Grace," Cat murmured. "I mean, how'll I convince him . . . and what about Mother Abbess?"

"It'll come to you, dear heart," Giavanna said. "Have faith."

"Here comes himself now," Magdalena muttered.

Drawn by a pair of white horses, the bishop's carriage rolled into the courtyard, gilded and enamelled in red. The coachman reined in the horses, and a footman stepped down to open the door for Bishop Dominic. A quartet of mounted guards deployed themselves around the courtyard, as if a convent of nuns presented some sort of danger.

Bishop Dominic, resplendent in the robes of his office, stepped out of the carriage and raised his hands in benediction. "Sisters," he said in a reedy voice at odds with his sizeable girth, "I am well pleased to see all of you, and grateful that our Lord has smiled upon my journey. Join me now in a brief prayer of thanks."

Cat bowed her head along with the others and was appalled to see Squeaker hanging over the edge of her pocket. Before she could catch him, the mouse had clambered down her dress and scurried away. Cat dropped to her hands and knees, crawling after him, calling his name in an urgent whisper. A hand caught the back of her dress. She looked over her shoulder. "What're you doing, Cat?" Giavanna demanded in a low voice.

"Squeaker--" Cat began, but she was cut off by a cry. Sister Giavanna let go of her, startled; Cat scrambled to the edge of the crowd to see the bishop performing a strange dance, hopping about on one leg and shaking the other in the air. "Get it off, get it off!" His Grace yelped. A small dark shape fell from the bishop's robes, landing at Mother Assumpta's feet. The abbess curled her lip. "A mouse! Disgusting creature!" She brought her heel down on the stunned animal with a snap.

"Squeaker!" Cat cried. She stood frozen in shock for a long moment, staring at the lifeless little body. Then she flew at Mother Assumpta, weeping and striking out with fists and feet. "You killed Squeaker! You mean old witch, you killed Squeaker!"

Someone caught hold of her. She continued to shout at the abbess until she found herself gently pressed to a bosom. "Shh, Cat, hush, dear heart," Giavanna murmured, holding her tightly, stroking her hair. "There, there, sweetheart, there, there . . ."

Magdalena stood by them; Cat sensed rather than saw the sister, almost vibrating with anger. "That 'disgusting creature' was Cat's pet, Assumpta." Magdalena's voice carried a deadly tone. "You've gone too far this time."

Cat felt Giavanna lift her in her arms. "Squeaker," she moaned, resting her head on the nun's shoulder. Sister Giavanna hushed her again. "Maggie," she murmured.

"I'll handle it, Gia."

Giavanna carried Cat inside to her room, laying the child in her bed. Cat curled into a ball. She didn't stir for the next three days.

When at last on the fourth day, Cat turned her face from the wall, she found Magdalena at her side. The nun smiled. "There you are, my love," she murmured, brushing the hair back from Cat's face. "You gave us quite a scare. Are you feeling better?"

"Mother Abbess killed Squeaker." Cat felt her lips move stiffly as she spoke. Magdalena looked sad. "Yes, dear heart, she did."

"She's mean an' horrible. I hate her."

Magdalena didn't reply to this, just stroked Cat's hair. "Are you hungry? Sister Sophia has some nice soup going in the kitchen."

"What'd they do with Squeaker?" Cat asked, her voice flat.

"We buried him, love, Gia and I," said Magdalena. "We put him in a nice sunny spot in the garden, near the roses. We thought he'd like it there. I put a little marker on his grave, so you can see it when you're ready."

"Now," Cat said, still in that inflectionless tone. "I wanna see it now."

Magdalena fetched Giavanna, and both sisters went with Cat into the garden. A small mound of freshly-turned earth marked with a tiny wooden cross made up the grave. Cat stood beside it for a long time, then she turned back to the abbey. She stared at the stone building as if she'd never before seen it.

A hand touched her hair. "Cat?" Sister Giavanna murmured.

"Mother Abbess can put me in the orphanage," Cat said. "I don't care." She walked in from the garden, leaving Giavanna and Magdalena beside the little grave.

© Catherine Thompson, 2001. All rights reserved.

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