Birgitta the Nun

Part 35 - The Camp

The newcomers followed Charlie and her torch through the thicket, fighting down some bushes to get the three-legged cart and the horse on the way. Soon a lovely little campfire could be seen, flickering between the leaves. A bivouac appeared around the fire, stomped with care and claimed against nature.

"So—you live here?" Birgitta asked in awe.

"I'm a wizard—I don't live anywhere," Charlie replied, as was her custom. "A wizard is always on her way. But if you like, sure. We can say I have my residence here at the moment." She pointed to a nest hanging heavy above their heads. It looked like an enormous basket dropped from the sky and caught in the trees.

"Oh—" Birgitta cried, staring at the massive construction spreading over her head. "Did you build it? Or did a Giant drop her basket while picking giant berries?"

The wizard didn't answer but gave Birgitta a tired look.

"Very au naturel - minimalist even," Birgitta continued her evaluation. "No odds and ends as far as the eye can see. How do you afford it?"

"Have you ever tried living in a house?" the wizard cut off the rude nun. "In a regular house I mean, not in a monastery or a tent?" For a moment the wizard seemed as tired as the nuns. She was in no mood to justify her way of life to a group of fools. "It's a pain I'll tell you! People won't stop bothering you—neighbors come and ask you favors all the time. And they won't stop borrowing things. Oh—the things they borrow to never return."

Birgitta swallowed her last rude remark. The wizard was now in charge.

She had them all seated around her glorious fire. The light was welcome, and their faces were filled with warmth. But the heavy contrast of the dark, surrounding forest bothered Birgitta. Swaying shadows closed around them and seemed to squeeze them towards the fire. It frightened Birgitta. She muttered and circled the camp, trying to find the least dark spot to occupy. But the fire spread its light in perfect symmetry. Every spot got its equal share of light and darkness. Annoyed but defeated, she in the end turned her back on the darkness and let the fire warm her face.

"I haven't got a grand dinner to offer you," Charlie informed her guests, "but some coffee and some bread."

"No coffee for me please," the merchant replied. "I need my sleep—and I never drink coffee after five pm."

The nuns and Charlie gave the merchant a skeptical look, but no comment was made. Such a practical adventurer as the merchant was a rare thing. No one was sure she wasn't actually the wisest among them. But it was rather silly. Who was in need of eight hours of sleep when there was a cat missing? Hence, while the merchant stuck to hot water, the rest of the group had coffee, like normal adventurers.

The bread was fresh - another rare thing for the evening - and the wizard seemed to see it as the most natural thing. Fresh bread in the middle of the forest was as sure as wine in a monastery.

"So—what's with the owl?" Birgitta broke the dinner-silence and was the first to comment on the bird.

"What?" the wizard said and looked surprised. "You can have cats but I can't have a simple owl?"

"Woo-woo," the owl agreed.

"Sure, It's a fine looking creature. I just—" Birgitta hesitated. She needed the right words, not to insult but to convey her feelings. It didn't come natural to her. Then, biting her tongue, "It's just unusual, that's all."

"And talking cats are common these days?" the wizard retorted.

"Well—no. I don't think so—never mind." Birgitta fell quiet. She gulped her coffee and sent suspicious glances towards the owl. But her suspicion was mixed with delight. She let her glance linger on the sharp beak, then on the heavy wings. It was a marvel, the mass of precise but soft feathers. She wondered what it would be like to fly—fabulous freedom? On the other hand, it was only a bird, a featherbrain, without any real understanding. Maybe birds were compensated for their lack of intelligence, with a pair of marvelous wings?

"It was the owl's idea," Charlie explained, not without pride, "that we should move out here, into a nest. We built it together you know—owls are smarter than people. They know how to stick to solitude. They never feel lonely—I do feel lonely sometimes, though I shun people and neighbors—especially neighbors. That's where the owl succeeds me."

"And now you have guests," the merchant said. No one was quite sure what she meant by it.

The campfire did everyone good. The newcomers took in the unexpected warmth and comfort, and started to relax.

The abbess picked up the wizard's hat, temporarily lying on the ground, and put it on her head. Birgitta caught the funny scene and tried not to giggle. She darted a nervous glance at the wizard and held her breath. But soon she tittered for all to hear.

The abbess removed the hat and examined it.

"Oh Lord, please put on that funny hat again," Birgitta coughed, choking on her laughter. "You look like a hybrid—like something from a fable."

The merchant squirmed but managed to suppress her laughter.

"Never mind," the wizard thought to herself, "I enjoy making people laugh, and soon enough I'll give her a turn."

Birgitta caught a glimpse of the wizard's hard-set face and gathered her wits. She had done it again—insulted the wizard.

The atmosphere turned tense. For a while the company kept quiet. Then Birgitta took the courage to speak:

"You know," she cleared her throat in an apologetical way, "I went to church the other day. It was just a regular church with a simple priest, but still—a funeral was taking place and I decided to stay. I just wanted to carefully observe from the furthest row, lying low at the back—people soon filled the church, and the brilliant thing was that they behaved. The children actually obeyed their parents and kept quiet. And women and the men made room for each other and talked in low voices. The whole gathering seemed like one peaceful being—

"But then, after the ceremony, when the crowd was let out of church, emotions started stirring. Children started screaming, men started arguing, and women started drinking and throwing chairs. Why I couldn't believe my eyes—a herd of perfectly mild sheep turning into a pack of wolves. People apparently know how to behave, how to care and be friendly, but still they don't—if they're not forced to it. Strange indeed.

"So I ducked for some chairs flying through the air and never joined the procession for coffee and cake at the vicarage. I lighted a candle for my precious cat and scrammed."

Birgitta paused. Then, turning to the wizard, "You see, I'm out of the monastery right now. And I feel a bit like one of those chair-throwing ladies—"

"Apology accepted," the wizard said, clever enough to catch a metaphor when thrown in her direction.

"Here's your hat," the abbess said, looking rather ashamed.

"I'm sorry," Birgitta said. "It's just that—it's very funny, in a good way." She indicated the hat and couldn't help but smile. "We all do behave badly sometimes. I'm sorry I was rude just now. I regret it."