Birgitta the Nun

Part 26 - The Catch Up

Incidentally, the cart also stopped. A pair of thick trousers descended the vehicle. They stopped at a safe distance, leaned on one foot and waited. It was evident they wanted something with the vomiting nun. Birgitta glanced at the strange legs between her gags. She considered fleeing, but her spinning head put a stop to any such ideas.

Then, behind the trousers, a grayish robe descended the cart. It strode past the strange trousers, whirled its skirts, and went right up to Birgitta. An outstretched arm appeared next to her upside-down head. Its hand offered her a paper tissue.

"A good day to you, old friend," the paper tissue greeted the poor nun. "Long time no see."

Birgitta spit in the grass, recognizing the voice. What could be worse than seasickness? Well—smugness, and someone saying 'I told you so'. Birgitta looked up and saw the smiling face of her antagonist. There she was, the venerable abbess, about whom she had been thinking all but kindly lately.

Relieved, but at the same time annoyed, Birgitta pushed the tissue away. Then, with flashing eyes, she chose to wipe her mouth with her sleeve. The abbess wrinkled her nose, looking at the slimy trail left on Birgitta's robe, but made no comment.

"How did you catch up with me?" Birgitta said. She straightened her back and left her place by the ditch.

"I got a ride," the abbess replied, not without pride. She went up to the gray old nag and cuddled it in a very informal way. Then she couldn't help but show off the cart and the merchant, but in the discreetest way possible.

"But the lake—" Birgitta hesitated.

"It was a really small lake—why didn't you just go round it? You know you get seasick."

The information fell flat. Birgitta didn't want to pick it up. Going round the lake was an option? She took a small bite and tasted the fact. But no—that was stupid. She didn't have a cart. Surely that sturdy nag would have made a sprint of it. Or it would take weeks— "But the water seemed so calm," she faltered. But then she checked herself, and shook off all doubts. Her actions had been appropriate. "Also," she continued, more assured now, "the cat went that way—and I didn't want to accomplish less."

"Oh—so you've got witnesses," the abbess exclaimed. "Someone actually saw the cat? But that means—your cat is alive."

"Yes, OUR cat is alive," Birgitta cut off. "I don't know where it's going or what has happened—but it's alive alright." She looked down and studied her messy vestment. Then she added, "Maybe we shouldn't even be bothering her."

"Hey sister," the abbess snapped. "I haven't gone this far in a stiff old cart—being dragged into a bar fight, and sleeping in a tent—not to finish what I've started. What WE started."

The merchant let the insult go. By all means, she knew the abbess was rather grateful for the "stiff old cart". In fact, the abbess had learned a thing or two from being in a bar-fight and sleeping under the stars. A monastery was a strict community indeed, but one could get too comfortable even in a straight place. Especially in one serving wine and holding a hyper-modern heating system.

"So, do you want a ride?" the merchant offered. "My fine horse won't mind the extra load." She gave her gray old nag a pat. The horse folded its ears rearwards. It wasn't much of a protester, the pleasant old nag, but once in a while it wouldn't mind the merchant doing the hauling.

"You nuns travel light I see," the optimistic merchant continued. "Also, I figure your spirits are anything but heavy." She smiled a broad smile, looking very much clever.

"I have a heavy heart," Birgitta replied, but still climbed into the cart after the abbess.

"Where's your tent?" the merchant inquired, ignoring her sad face.

"I've got none."

"Well, you can share our tent then—the more the merrier."

The abbess couldn't help but wonder—would Birgitta also end up in a child's sleeping-bag? Aye, she would surely put up a fight. This trip was getting more and more interesting.

"But—who is in charge of the monastery?" Birgitta said.

"Well, Madeleine is—and I proudly tell you so," the abbess replied.

"The rookie?" Birgitta took the energy to look astonished. "Lord. She will open up the place to strangers—bring stray dogs and orphans to live there."

"Nonsense. She'll do fine."

"There will be nothing to come back to," Birgitta sighed. "Nothing but an infested playground."

"Don't be so selfish," the abbess hissed. "You should be glad to have a home."

"Well, maybe I don't anymore—"

"No time for arguments," the merchant interrupted the irritable nuns. "Now do some hugging. Be happy to be reunited. You found each other at last—what could be better? It's like the perfect ending to the perfect novel. Mmm-hmm," the merchant sighed and almost put a tear to her eye.

The nuns obeyed. Without looking each other in the eyes, they hugged. They didn't get up or anything, to do it properly, but remained seated as they reached their embrace. Both nuns - from opposite corners of the cart - stretched their arms as much as they could. They barely touched. It was a stiff hug, but it would have to do.

"All right sisters," the merchant called from behind the reins, "where to?"

"That way," Birgitta replied, pointing straight forward.

"Excellent." The merchant urged the horse on and they set off at the same pace as ever. That is, very slowly.