Birgitta the Nun

Part 16 - On the Road

The road was long because the abbess didn't know where she was going. No vehicle was at her disposal and so she set out on foot, with her luggage on a leash, rolling on small wheels behind her. The rope and the pillow in her bag weighed almost nothing and she was glad she hadn't brought anything excessive - like aspirin, or a toothbrush.

She could detect no footprints or traces in the gravel road, revealing an angry nun walking there some days ago. But she headed in the only direction available: away from the monastery.

The monastery was a grand and ambitious building, and it would take the abbess several hours of walking to notice it shrink, even just a little. She was already missing her stone walls. Nature now displayed to her - in all its pompous glory - was not in the least hospitable. Small gusts of dust would whirl around her head and gather between her teeth. Persistent sticks and branches would lie scattered all over the road, twisting around the small wheels of her bag. The sun contributed to the wicked game, showing its brightest all day, and did its best to tire the poor unwelcome abbess.

The abbess had forgot to bring water, and soon she felt her tongue dry. A well visible from the road caught her attention and she directed her steps off the road to explore its resources. She had to climb a fence and traverse a private lawn to reach it, and she was not sure if she was doing something illegal, or perhaps quite in order—who knew with the outside world and its foreign social structures? The abbess certainly didn't hold any answers or solutions.

The well seemed to be alright - there was no smell of mould or clay - and the abbess decided to give its content a try. She could find no bucket, but took off her boot, tied her rope around it, and lowered it into the well.

Incidentally, when the sole of her boot hit the water with a delicious thud, she heard a growl behind her back. A guard-dog was making her acquaintance.

"Easy there girl," the abbess said, and crouched a bit to make herself less intruding. "I just want some water, nothing else—not to disturb anyone."

She dared stretch out her hand towards the growling dog. With her eyes closed from fear, she hoped the animal would accept her gesture of peace. Then instinct hit her and she pulled her hand back, just as the fangs of the beast grazed her fingers. "You vicious monkey," she hissed, but didn't have time to curse the dog before its owner made her appearance:

"Hey you—you rascal!" a voice cried from behind the dog. A peasant came out from an adjacent house, and aimed her offense at the abbess, "What are you doing, you cheat? Want to taste my water? Then you'll first have a taste of my dog—"

The dog seemed to apprehend this command and intensified its growling towards the abbess. Also, it added some froth and drooling, for the effect, the abbess was sure.

"Who needs water anyway?" the abbess thought, and let go of the rope and the boot.

She started to back away from the well, as the peasant started to approach it. With measured steps at first, the peasant pressed the abbess away, off of her property, but then her advance quickened.

The dog got caught in between, and didn't know if to retreat or attack; it lacked a command from its master, but desperately wanted in on the game. And so it started to howl, making as much noise as possible, but still stayed put by the well, like a good vicious guard-dog.

When the abbess was only a couple of steps from the fence, the peasant started running. The abbess flew over the fence, ripping her vestment in the flight, and crashed in some mud on the other side. Her bag landed on her head, not heavy but still terribly disturbing. She crawled onto the dusty road to freedom, jumped to her feet, and started running like she had never run before. Upside-down, her bag followed on its leash behind her. Its small wheels spun in the air, silently protesting the rough treatment.

The peasant stopped by the fence and continued her yelling from there, waving a piece of the abbess' vestment over her head. Her threats and obscene promises would follow the abbess a long way.

The abbess was tired. Her sprint and adventure with the peasant had done nothing but contribute to her thirst and weariness. Also, she was now missing a boot and a rope. Her bag rustled sadly behind her and she stopped to turn it onto its wheels. It felt ridiculously light now, carrying nothing but a pillow.

Was this how Birgitta felt, the abbess wondered, running away from the monastery? Was she also thirsty? did she also forget to bring water? Of course not! Birgitta was a crafty nun, unlike the abbess. She was lazy, sure, but when emergency had it she was as clever as any experienced survivor. Yes, there was something of a scout about Birgitta: she would find solutions where there were none, and cheat only when absolutely necessary. Though, she was afraid of the dark of course—

The sun started setting and the one-booted wanderer decided it was time to find shelter for the night. She climbed another fence, then traversed another private lawn, and found a low hanging apple tree to make a decent roof. The tree surely did belong to some murderous peasant - ready to hunt her down and feed her to her dog! - but the abbess felt too exhausted to evaluate the risk. So she ignored it.

She chose a spot near the trunk and spread her pillow before it. It would have to do - the lone pillow would mark her camp for the evening. The apples looked juicy, hanging low over her head. But she didn't dare to touch them; she didn't want to add theft to her sins, again. However, as if an answer to her prayers, one apple detached itself from its branch and fell upon her face. She yelped as it bounced off her nose and landed upon her pillow.

The apple indeed was a gift from above, but she didn't feel like anything resembling Newton receiving it. "Lord he must have been angry, being hit in the head by that apple!" the abbess thought, as she munched on the juicy fruit. But perhaps frustration was the key to success?

Finally she fell asleep, dreaming of nothing but dust and guard dogs.

Next morning a hard and cold ground tore the abbess out of her already disturbed sleep. Dew was spilt all over the landscape, making it glitter in the early sunlight, but also creating an uncomfortable chill. The abbess packed her bag and made sure not to leave any traces behind. She wasn't sure what to do with yesterday's apple-core, and so she threw it in the bag along with her pillow. Also, some fresh apples happened to check in, but mostly by accident; hanging low, and too close to the open bag, while the abbess was pulling the zipper, the juicy apples got caught in the nexus and were swallowed up by the void next to the pillow. An so she continued her journey with some provisions.