to the bed next to Cecilia’s. One evening she came with her bedclothes in her arms and stood with bowed head, waiting until the lay sister in the bed next to Cecilia grasped that she was supposed to toddle off to the warmer side of the room. When the lay sister had taken her bedclothes and gone, the new maiden slowly and carefully made her bed, glancing over at the sister who stood in the dark by the door to the stairs and kept a watchful eye on the proceedings. When she was done the maiden crept into bed, turned on her side, and sought out Cecilia’s gaze. Then without blinking she broke the rule of silence.
‘You’re not alone, Cecilia,’ she whispered, so quietly that no one else could hear.
‘Thank you, Our Lady be praised,’ Cecilia signalled back in the sign language they used at Gudhem when no words could be spoken. But she no longer felt cold, and her thoughts were directed to different matters, something other than the loneliness and unhappy longing in which she’d been circling for so long that sometimes she feared for her sanity. Now she lay for a while looking with curiosity into the eyes of her unknown companion who had spoken so kindly to her, even when it was forbidden to speak. They smiled at each other until the darkness came, and that night Cecilia did not shiver from the cold and she quickly fell asleep.
When they were awakened to go down to matins, she was sleeping deeply, and the unknown maiden next to her had to give her a gentle shake. Later, down in the church, Cecilia sang along in the hymns for the first time in full voice, her clear tones rising higher than all the others’. Singing had after all been her one great joy in past years at Gudhem, back when she knew that she would be released after only a few months.
And she fell asleep easily after matins, so when it was time for lauds, the morning praise song, the stranger had to wake her again. It seemed she had a need to catch up on lost sleep.
After the first mass of the day, when it was time to gather in the chapter hall, Cecilia found that her new neighbour had to sit close to the door, just as she did, and again she contemplated the words that she was no longer alone, that now they were two.
After Mother Rikissa read the day’s Bible text, she recited a list of names of deceased brothers and sisters in the Cistercian order for whose souls they must pray. Cecilia froze briefly, for sometimes the list included a foreign name or the name of a fallen Templar knight, who was counted as equal to brothers or sisters. But today there was no such name.
The punishments were saved till last during the morning convocation. The most common infraction punished by Mother Rikissa was breach of the code of silence. Six or seven times Cecilia had been punished for this, despite the fact that no one ever spoke to Cecilia, nor did she speak to anyone else.
It so happened, explained Mother Rikissa with something that looked more like a smile than an expression of sternness, that it was now time to punish Cecilia again. The sisters then lowered their heads with a sigh, while the worldly maidens raised theirs and stared with inquisitive malice at Cecilia.
However, it was not the usual Cecilia who was to be punished; not Cecilia Algotsdotter but Cecilia Ulvsdotter. And now that there were two Cecilias who apparently displayed the same breach of conduct, the red-haired Cecilia Algotsdotter would hereafter be called Cecilia Rosa, and the blonde one would be called Cecilia Blanca.
The punishment was usually a day or two on bread and water, a common penalty meted out during the period when Mother Rikissa had seemed intent on tormenting Cecilia to death after her childbirth. But now Mother Rikissa ordered, more with scorn than with the grace of God, that Cecilia Blanca be led to the lapis culparum, the punishment stone at the far end of the room. The prioress and one of the sisters promptly went over to Cecilia Blanca and took her by both arms to lead her to the punishment stone; there they removed her woollen mantle so that she stood there in only her linen shift. They stretched her hands above her head and fastened them with two handcuffs of iron.
Then Mother Rikissa fetched a scourge and took up position next to the bound Cecilia Blanca and looked at her congregation, again showing more triumph than divine benevolence. She paused for a moment, testing the scourge by slapping it against her hand.
Then she signalled for them to say three Pater Nosters, and they all bowed their heads obediently and began reciting.
When the prayers were concluded, she summoned one of the worldly maidens, Helena Sverkersdotter, handed her the scourge, and asked her in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Virgin to administer three lashes.
Helena Sverkersdotter was a clumsy, bumbling girl who seldom got the chance to stand out from the crowd. Now she looked at the other sisters with delight, and they all nodded at her in encouragement; someone signalled for her to give Cecilia Blanca a good thrashing. And so she did. She did not do it in the usual way, which was intended to mark the memory and alter the mind rather than to cause injury to the body. She struck as hard as she could, and with the last blow two lines of blood seeped through Cecilia Blanca’s white shift.
Cecilia Blanca moaned between clenched teeth during the beating, but she did not scream nor cry.
Now she turned around, difficult as it was in her bound position, so that she could look the flushed and exhilarated Helena Sverkersdotter in the eye. And then, snarling between clenched teeth and with her eyes black with hate, she said something so appalling that a gasp of horror passed through the hall.
‘One day, Helena Sverkersdotter, you shall regret those lashes more than anything else in your life, I swear it by the Holy Virgin Mary!’
These words were unconscionable. Not just because they expressed threats and anger intra muros, nor because she had involved Our Lady in her sin, but primarily because these words showed that Cecilia Blanca had not accepted the justice of her punishment and thus had not obeyed Mother Rikissa.
What everyone now anticipated was three times three new lashes with the scourge, as an immediate result of the blasphemous words. But Mother Rikissa went over to take the scourge away from Helena Sverkersdotter, who had already raised her hand to begin anew.
Cecilia Rosa over by the door thought she saw Mother Rikissa’s eyes glowing red like a dragon’s or some other evil creature, and all the others bowed their heads as if in prayer, although what they really felt was horror.
‘Three days in the carcer,’ said Mother Rikissa at last, drawing out her words. ‘Three days in the carcer on bread and water, with solitude and silence and prayer, and with only one blanket - that’s where you shall seek forgiveness!’
No one had been sentenced to the carcer as long as Cecilia Rosa had been at Gudhem; that was a punishment mentioned only as a scary story. The carcer was a dark little hole beneath the cellarium, the seed storage areas. Sitting there among the rats in the wintertime was a torment that would be terrible to endure.
Over the next few days Cecilia Rosa did not feel cold, because she was occupied with praying for her new friend Cecilia Blanca. She prayed with a burning soul and tears running from her eyes, and she did all her tasks without thinking; she wove and sang and ate without thinking. She put her whole soul and all her thoughts into her prayers.
On the evening of the third day, Cecilia Blanca returned, her legs stiff and unsteady, completely white in the face. She was escorted by two sisters up to the dormitorium after the period of silence. They led her to her bed, shoved her in, and heedlessly tossed the covers over her.
Cecilia Rosa, as even she now called herself, sought out her friend’s eyes in the dark. But Cecilia Blanca’s gaze was rigid and empty. Considering how she looked, she had to be chilled to the bone.
Cecilia Rosa waited a while until it was quiet in the dormitorium before she did the unthinkable. She took her two blankets and climbed into her friend’s bed as quietly as she could, pulling the covers over both of them and lying close to her. It was like lying next to ice. But soon, as though Our Lady were holding her hand over them even in this difficult hour, the warmth slowly crept into their bodies.
After matins Cecilia Rosa did not dare repeat her sin, which was an act of charity. But she loaned one of her blankets to her friend and no longer