Birgitta the Nun

Part 6 - The Dining hall

Supper at the monastery was a fairly uninteresting matter. The nuns gathered after dark in the centered dining hall. Like ghosts they appeared, from who-knows-where, only to disappear in the same mysterious fashion once their plates were emptied. The abbess was seated at the far end of the grand dining table, and the guest, the wizard, at the other. Three courses were served, minutely prepared by Petra, though on a budget: a light vegetable soup to start with, chicken and legumes to fill the stomach, and fruit preserves for dessert. Madeleine, who was seated at the middle of the table, opposite Birgitta, made sure to drop careful pieces of chicken to the floor, making a crowd of cats around her chair.

A buzz rose from around the supper table, filled the hall with conversations, yet no clear, single voice was to be made out. The dining nuns talked in a murmur, more to themselves than to their table companions, keeping all echoes on a leash. A gray sea of vestment clung to the giant table, mingled with simple dishes on modest wooden plates, to be sure, only the wizard's colorful robe stood out against the earthy backdrop. Now and again, a sharp reflection escaped the dishes - bounced brightly off the walls, catching the attention of the cats - revealing the utilization of fine silver cutlery.

The silverware had their origin with the abbess. As a young apprentice, when she first came to the monastery, they had followed her last belongings. Too fancy for a convent, indeed, but when offered as a gift, no nun had had the stomach to turn them down. She never talked about it, however, most likely, she sprang from a wealthy source.

As old as the monastery, the wooden plates lacked the corresponding history. No one knew where they came from, though, fairly apparent, it was a miracle they hadn't rotted yet.

Birgitta looked focused, eating with a hearty appetite, muttered something about needing a vacation. Madeleine looked mild, lifted her fork with care, in vain seeking eye contact with her preoccupied table companions. The wizard looked confused, hardly eating at all, being a picky gourmet, always failing to adjust.

The abbess rose from her chair, lifted her glass, and knocked back her wine. She waited for her subordinates to acknowledge her toast, then sat back down without a word.

And that's how supper was executed - fancy silverware mixed with withered wooden plates, making the whole dinner appear complex. Upright and respectable, or just poor and solemn? No one could tell for sure. Everyone made their own experience of it. For Madeleine, the occasion came out as serious and scary, stern faces surrounding her on all sides. For Birgitta, time had come for celebration, heaps of food and good wine. For the wizard, it was all confusion - silver cutlery, boiled beans, animals under the table—a fine mixture, beyond her wit.

That night, the wizard slept like a little child. The long walk, curious impressions, new cultures and customs - it had all taken its toll on her, and she fell upon her appointed bed without undressing. Not even removing her hat, she dozed off as soon as her head reached the sheets of the fluffy pillow.

Next morning, a tail awoke her. A cat stepped on her head, stopped for a heavy second upon her face, then, raced off, using her nose as a springboard. "What the devil," she exclaimed, cat-hair falling from her lips.

She spat on the floor and swung her hand around the intruder. But the cat was gone. In some mysterious fashion, it had disappeared, certainly not using the conventional door. The wizard stopped her waving. To be sure, she felt the handle of the heavy, wooden door. Nothing. Bolted, just as she left it yesterday. There were no windows, no additional latches, neither in the floor nor the ceiling. She stroked her chin, lifted her hands and brushed the sleep out of her eyes. Was there a secret passage? The cat had to have gotten in somehow. And out.

The awkwardness about the monastery kicked the curiosity of the wizard anew. All at once she was wide awake, standing on her toes, continuing last night's search.

She lifted her skirts and moved along the walls, again pushed her fingertips agains the dense surface, searching for suspicious cracks or dents.

By this time, as custom had it, Petra appeared on the doorstep. Without warning, she raised her serviceable arm, and rang her dinner-bell, hard and well.

With a yelp, the wizard flew behind the bed.

"Breakfast is served," Petra announced, turned on her heel, and was gone before the wretched-looking guest had time to reply.