Birgitta the Nun

Part 15 - Packing Her Bag

The abbess was annoyed and spent the next couple of days brooding. She contemplated the situation, in and out, but could find no doing about it - she could find no one to blame. It was a misunderstanding, and Birgitta had left the monastery.

Why wouldn't that silly old nun see a simple thing for what it was? Why did she have to ascribe a deeper meaning to triviality? Sure, Birgitta was correct more than sometimes, the abbess had to confess to herself, but still - was it really necessary? Should not some things be left alone, simple and stupid as may be? No, of course not. Thinking was never wrong, the abbess knew that - not even overthinking - and she regretted being hard on Birgitta. The sour but fair nun was almost a part of the interior, and the abbess couldn't see a complete monastery without her. She had to go after her.

The abbess wasn't afraid to leave the monastery, though she rarely did. If in need of some fresh air, she would simply open a window. That was enough. Impressions had a tendency to creep upon her, weren't she between four walls. In reality it wasn't a big problem - she didn't suffer from agoraphobia or something of the sort - merely that she was acclimatized to life inside a quiet stone building. Frankly - she was not used to hustle and bustle.

The abbess packed her bag with care. She didn't want to bring anything heavy or unnecessary on her journey. Clothes were the easy part, because she had none. But objects were trickier: though she owned nothing herself, some notable equipment did belong to the monastery - like a fire-extinguisher—or a ladder. Everyone could use a fire-extinguisher and a ladder, even a vagabond. But no—these were heavy and bulky objects, and though of course usable, unfortunately also inconvenient.

The abbess ended up packing a piece of rope and a pillow. That would do - that would be all she would need.

She weighed the bag in her hands, up and down, when there was a knock on her door. She hesitated and for a moment considered it being Birgitta having returned. So soon? Could she have cooled off already?

A second knock made the abbess forget her contemplations, and she went to answer—

"Yes?" she said and pushed the door wide open.

"Madame l'abbess?" It was Petra, the cook, holding her dinner bell high, but without ringing it.

"What is it Petra?"

"You'll bring that sourpuss back, won't you?" She lowered her dinner bell and clasped it with both hands.

"What—Birgitta?" The abbess wasn't sure there was another sourpuss at the monastery, but still—she wanted to make sure.

"Yes, Birgitta the sourpuss."

"What—would you miss her?" The abbess was surprised. She actually thought she was the only one noticing Birgitta gone. Indeed, she was almost sure that even if Petra knew Birgitta had left, she wouldn't lift one small little finger to try to bring her back.

"She loves my sparse soup like no one else," Petra replied in a low voice. "Her talking cat drives me crazy, but so do the non-talking ones, always begging by the dinner table—and I would miss chasing it away from the kitchen."

"So you believe that cat's still out there?"

"If Birgitta does, so do I."

"You silly old thing," the abbess said and gave Petra a smack on the arm. The bell in her hands quivered and gave a faint ping—"You don't even like nuns. Back to your pots and pans with you, and stop twisting my head."

Petra gave a bow and scuttled away along the corridor. The abbess observed her sad figure leave and shook her head. Well, that settled it - she had to go.

The abbess wrote a note of authority and left it in an envelope upon her desk - addressed to Madeleine. Yes, that was good. The youngling would find it sooner or later. No one was such a keen visitor of the holy office as poor Madeleine. And a bit of responsibility would do her well.