“Ask what you will, brother.” Juliana crossed her hands and leaned back in her chair.
Indeed, Thomas had little to ask, but when his prioress requested that he question Juliana on her vocation, he had had no good reason to refuse. Surely he was the least qualified to judge if someone were suited to any form of monastic life since he had not chosen such himself with whole-hearted willingness. On the other hand, some might say that the choice of life over being burned at the stake by an admirer of that exquisite punishment, a concept regaining strong popular support amongst clerics, might be deemed whole-hearted enough. Perhaps he should be flexible about her reasons for finding her vocation as well.
Thomas cleared his throat and asked the obvious first question: “Why do you want to enter a monastic life?”
“You ask me an easy question first.” Juliana smiled. “The simplest answer is that I feel called to it.”
The change in Juliana from the person he had coaxed from the castle parapet was dramatic. Unlike that deathly pale creature with eyes like burning coal, this woman positively glowed with a most womanly warmth. Had he been wrong to think her mad? Might she not be that rare creature who was filled with grace, perhaps even gifted with visions? “Why?” Thomas asked. Indeed, he truly wanted to know.
Juliana leaned forward. This time her steady gaze comforted rather than unsettled him. “I think we might understand each other in this, brother. I feel called to it because worldly things no longer give me joy. In my case, I have enjoyed the love of good parents. My brothers were a happy trial when I was growing up.” She laughed and Thomas watched a memory dart across her eyes. “In addition, I have felt the pain of lust, and, if I may repeat a secret I told in confession, I have experienced the joy of it as well.” Her brown eyes twinkled with a comfortable sensuality.
Thomas realized his bones no longer ached with cold. “Our Lord…”
“…does not require virgins as brides. As I recall, he not only saved the life of Mary Magdalene but also honored her. It was to her, after all, that Jesus announced his resurrection at the tomb, not to Peter or John.”
“I was about to say much as you did.”
“Then you are wiser than many priests.” Juliana fell silent for a moment, her eyes unashamedly examining the auburn-haired monk. “Not to say I questioned the choice of Tyndal for my hermitage, but knowing that you are there is further sign of its merit.”
Thomas felt his face flush.
“Be at peace, brother. I have no more designs on your very fine body than I believe you have on mine.” She shook her head. “Do not protest, for you did think that was my meaning. But do answer this for me: am I right that you did not come to the monastic life as a child?”
Thomas nodded, deciding it was best to see where her questions led before saying anything further.
For a moment Juliana said nothing, then closed her eyes as if profoundly weary. “I find comfort in the knowledge that I shall confess to a priest who had a full taste of the world but was wise enough to reject its corruption for a peace that only God can bring.”
He waited.
“Forgive me, Brother Thomas. Please continue to ask me your questions, and I shall reply, as is meet, with more modesty. Playing the hare to your hound is contemptible in a woman who longs to become an anchoress.” Juliana’s face paled as her smile disappeared. “Although that day of peace seems as far away as the softness of spring is from this bleak winter.”
As he watched the light fade from her eyes, Thomas felt the unease returning that he had experienced with her on the walls. “You have wearied of this world then?” he asked with a gentle tone.
“Wearied? Perhaps. Once I reveled like a child in earthly pleasures. Now they stink in my nostrils like night soil in the summer sun. Once I believed that anyone with a good and faithful heart could remain pure. Now I know that all mortals are tainted with violence and evil. Should I stay in this world, I fear I would try, time and time again, to reclaim the lost Eden, something no mortal will do. Thus my desire to leave a world that rots under my hand may be as much due to fear of my own sinful nature as it is to weariness. I long to seek God’s wisdom and all-forgiving love, something I can only find in the solitary life.”
“A solitary life is possible in a monastic setting. You would be shut away enough from the rest of the world. Why ask for the more severe life of an anchoress, closeted in a isolated cell and separated even from the comfort of other nuns?”
“Because the company of women would be a burden to me. I seek a place where I will hear only the sound of God’s voice singing in my ears. I cannot bear the voices of the children of Adam and Eve.”
“People may come to beg wisdom from you. Many anchorites and anchoresses are judged to be closer to God than most religious.”
Juliana’s eyes sparkled in brief amusement. “Fear of the strange woman in the glade will frighten most away, I trust, and Tyndal will protect me should that not be sufficient. In the meantime, I promise that your visits to shrive me will be welcomed, and Eleanor’s voice will never intrude on my contemplations. Your voices I shall bear.”
“What caused you to so turn against the world?”
“God.”
Thomas sat back and stared at her. “God does not hate His creation.”
“God has willed this.”
“His voice? A vision?”
“If you will.”
“Could it not be Satan who spoke to you, not God?”
“Satan loves his comforts, brother. He would be happier with me if I followed the lusts of my body rather than the harsher ones of my soul.”
“You have been candid with me, my lady, but now I must be blunt with you in return.”
“You may be as forthright with me as need be. It will make your task and mine easier.”
In spite of himself, Thomas smiled. “Might not your weariness with the world be grounded more in disappointment than in a true belief that mortal joys are shallow ones?”
“That was not plain enough speech! If you mean to ask whether I am jealous because my dearest friend married before I did, then the answer is no. I must differ with my father on this.”
“Nonetheless, you and the Lady Isabelle have quarreled much since she married with your father.”
“We have fought less than my father has suggested. She and I are not suited to the roles of stepmother and stepdaughter. That is true, but the memory of our youth together remains strong in our hearts.”
“Yet I have seen your sorrow and silence in her presence. You did quarrel. Why?”
She sat back in her chair and sighed. “Do you not remember when the innocence of childhood fled? Each of us is doomed to repeat that bite of apple given by the serpent in Eden, I think. One day we laugh together in play; the next we look at each other and raise our hands to strike those very loved ones. Is there a reason or is it the nature of our mortal sin?”
“I am a simple man, my lady, and have no easy answer to that…”
“You are neither simple nor prone to facile answers, brother. One day, perhaps in the peace of my forest chapel, we will speak further on that subject, and you will share your own experiences with me.” She shook her head as Thomas was about to respond. “Forgive me. We were talking of my calling, not yours. Yours was a direct question that should be answered in an honest fashion. No, I am not running away because my dearest friend married before me. I do not, as has been suggested, fear marriage and its pains, although I confess I feel unsuited to that state. Yes, I wish to escape the world, but my reason is a longing to fold myself completely into God’s love and forgiveness much as a child does into her mother’s arms. Compared to that, all worldly joys are flawed and feeble things to me. Does that satisfy you, brother?”