Birgitta the Nun

Part 30 - Jaka

A fan spun in the ceiling. Strange smells and odors stirred and mixed around the lone nun. Conversing voices fluttered about her ears. Sometimes they rose to a high pitch, only to soon fall back into something barely audible.

"Hey boy," a low but sharp voice said, penetrating the wall of murmur. An elderly person nudged the abbess with her bony elbow, hitting her in the side. "Hey boy," the sharp voice repeated. "Have you ever seen the war approaching?" She heroically raised her very old index finger. Then, directing it at the abbess, "Have you ever felt the pavement shake under your feet because of a cannon rolling up your hill?"

The abbess clutched at her side and pushed the persistent elbow away. "I'm not a boy," she replied, reluctant. She studied the intruder. What could this persistent old lady be wanting with her, the abbess? She indeed looked like a veteran, and the title of a General would have suited her fine.

"Well you look like one," the very old woman said. She parked her frame in front of the abbess and inspected her. "You would be in the army right now, were you born just a little bit earlier! But you just missed the war, didn't you? It was close, really close. You must have felt the canons breathe down your neck."

"What war?" the abbess said. She could remember nothing about any war for centuries.

"What war—" the old one muttered, looking terribly indignant. She poked her nose right up in the abbess' face and examined her with deep interest. There was a strong smell of garlic on her breath and the abbess jerked—"What? Are you a vampire or what?" the very old one snarled. "A little garlic has never hurt anyone," here she gave the abbess a probing look, squinting her eyes almost to a shut, "or has it?"

The abbess stared back at the squinting face, wondering if it would be stuck in that cross-eyed position. She waved a hand in front of the old person's eyes—perhaps she was blind?

The old woman ignored the waving hand of the abbess. "Do your parents know you're a girl?" she continued, and the garlic-vapors kept flowing into the abbess's face.

"But I'm wearing a robe for heaven's sake," the abbess retorted.

"Don't think that will get you anywhere. I was in the war myself—robe or no robe, it's all about uniforms in the war. I was a good leader. I would have made your back straight." The old woman paused her speech about the war. She seemed to fall back on some memories and for a moment her eyes turned moist. Then, again she turned her attention to the abbess, "What's that you're grinning about? Is that a smile? It makes you look stupid."

"I smile to be polite," the abbess replied, but regretted her words.

"Jeez, just a silly little boy we've got here—" The very old lady pulled back her head and gave the abbess some room to breathe. Then, grabbing her hand and shaking it, "I am Jaka."

"Pleased to meet you Jaka," the abbess hesitated. "I'm Sœur Emmanuelle."

"A monk I presume?"

"Not quite so—"

"A young apprentice of course," Jaka continued, not listening to the abbess' objections. "However, I can tell you don't belong to the village church, with your fancy vestment and all."

"Really?" the abbess said, almost flattered. This ceremonious attention from the very old lady 'Jaka' was somewhat refreshing. It renewed the abbess' sense of purpose, and again made her feel like the very esteemed person she indeed was. She brushed some road dust off her robe and looked inquiringly at her suitor.

"Oh yes," Jaka continued. "The priests around here are not of the black-and-white kind - if you see what I mean - more of the gray-zone kind."

"I understand," the abbess replied, and tried to understand. "Shady?"

"That is the word brother," Jaka tapped her nose. She got her own bowl of peanuts and took a seat next to the abbess at the bar, and for a while they munched in silence.

"I'm looking for a cat," the abbess said after a while. She didn't really trust the very old woman, but neither did she fear her.

Jaka turned to look at her bar-companion. Interest showed in her face. She carefully finished chewing her mouthful of peanuts, then replied, "There's a wizard among the woods. Maybe she can help you—?"

The abbess stopped munching. She swallowed her half-chewed peanuts and turned to meet Jaka's gaze. "Why a wizard?" she whispered. "Can wizards smell cats, or the like?"

"Sure," Jaka replied. "They can smell anything—if you first let them smell some money."

There was something know-it-all about Jaka's statement, convincing the abbess she was sure to be either an oracle or a liar.

"Oh, I see," the merchant all of a sudden interposed. Her business effectively taken care of, she was already back at the bar, looking very much content. "She's a booty-hunter," she continued, turning to Jaka. "Clever wizard. A jack-of-all-trades."

"That's it madame," Jaka replied.

"But I'm not sure about wizards," the abbess continued to whisper. "They're so—unreliable." She wasn't keen on seeing another wizard. They would have nothing to offer, she was sure. She was just about to object to the whole finding-a-wizard matter, when Jaka interrupted her wicked thoughts:

"Hey, none of that kind around here brother. It's just a title. Don't start distinguishing people. It will only spring back on your very own esteemed person. We're all the same in the woods. Think about that Master Monk. We're all the same—especially in the dark woods. No one can distinguish a clear character among the shades."

"Fine, let's visit this wizard," the merchant interfered. "Maybe I can learn a thing or two."

The abbess stared at the merchant, not knowing what to say. She looked terribly dejected, but didn't offer further objections. They wouldn't understand. How were they supposed to know about her disturbing experience of wizards?

Incidentally - in the middle of the abbess' perplexity - some ghastly cursing could be heard. It came from the back of the tavern. And it was Birgitta. She had forgot about her promise to lie low and was now heartily making a scene.

Her words were foul and her opponents - the dinner-guests of the inn - stared wild-eyed at the all worked up nun. Some hid under the tables, scared witless—others munched their stew like popcorn in front of a performance. Birgitta waved her arms like a madwoman. She used all of her imagination to bring out the worst of curses upon her "opponents".

Used to emergencies, the merchant acted quickly. In a few strides she reached the cursing nun, grabbed the back of her vestment, and dragged her towards the doors. The abbess paid for her and Jaka's round of peanuts and made herself scarce, not wanting to make use of the horsewhip. Jaka didn't seem to mind and quickly snatched the abbess' leftover peanuts.

But, as ill luck would have it, the horse was not yet back at the cart. It was resting in a small but comfortable stable, enjoying a decent bucket of oats and some more than decent brushing. The merchant and her companions jumped into the cart and smacked the air in lack of a horse. They huddled together behind the reins. Soon the cart would rush off and take them away from the turbulence. But in an expectant position they stayed. The horseless cart remained, still in front of the petit windows of the inn, for every guest to view.

The merchant wouldn't let go of the reins. She closed her eyes and prayed her beautiful nag would be there, ready to save them from shame. In the end the innkeeper herself left her chores to bring them back their rested horse. She harnessed it, gave it a clap on the back, and waved goodbye to the escaping crew.

"You come alone next time, will you?" she called after the merchant.

The merchant returned the wave and promised to give it a try.