The mystic rose

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Cait sat up in bed; so strong was the sense of familiarity, she imagined she was home again in Caithness. The priests at Banvard rang the bells to signal the beginning of the Yuletide celebrations; she wondered if Brother Timotheus did the same.

When the music began again, she relinquished any expectation of sleep, rose from her bed, and made her way outside to a world of sparkling white made brilliant by the light of the rising sun. The sky was clear and heart-breakingly blue, and the high, encircling mountain peaks burned with a rosy glow like fired bronze.

The villagers were making their way in procession to the chapel, led by Brother Timotheus exuberantly swinging an oversize bell. The air was biting cold, and the pealing of the bell piercing in its clarity. Yngvar, Dag and Rodrigo were in the forefront of the parade, trampling triumphantly through the snow as if to make a path for those behind; they were followed by Dominico and his sons, and all the rest. Neither Rognvald nor Svein was to be seen, but Cait fell into line behind the others and proceeded to the church.

The service was blessedly short. Brother Timotheus simply read out a Psalm and led his faithful flock in a few prayers; the congregation sang a song, and then they all trooped back outside where everyone hailed everyone else with an enthusiastic Yuletide greeting. Cait was swept up in wave upon wave of hugging and kissing, as one after another of the villagers embraced her. Then they all went off to resume the celebration.

As the last released her and hurried away, she looked up to find Rognvald standing before her. 'Glad Yule, Lady Caitriona,' he said. 'It seems I am too late for prayers, but not, I hope, for a greeting.' With that, he opened his arms and folded her into a warm embrace and gave her a kiss that left her blinking at its sudden, virile intensity.

'Glad Yule, my lord,' she said, gazing up into his face.

He smiled, his blue eyes keen and clear as the skies high overhead. 'Will you break fast with me?'

'It would be a pleasure,' she replied, taking Rognvald's arm. They walked slowly, enjoying one another's company and the fine, sparkling day. The sound of the snow squeaking beneath her feet filled Cait with a youthful joy she had not known for years. 'It seems our search is soon concluded,' she said after a time.

When Rognvald did not answer, she glanced sideways at his face and saw that he was gazing at the mountains towering above the village, their smooth, snow-dusted slopes gleaming in the new day's light. They appeared to Cait like stately monarchs robed in winter furs and enthroned around the bowl of the valley, gazing at their own splendour in the bright mirror of its lake.

'Tell me about the Cele De,' he said. 'Who are they?'

'There is little enough to tell,' she began. 'They are priests of an order that holds itself apart from Rome-a small order, but tenacious, and fiercely loyal to its calling.'

'What is that?'

'To preserve the True Path and guard the Holy Light.'

Rognvald nodded. 'They are heretics then.'

'Not in the least,' Cait protested. 'They simply embrace an older tradition than Rome. There were Christians in the West before Rome, you know. The church of the Celts is older by far than the one decreed by Emperor Constantine, and -'

Rognvald chuckled.

'Are you laughing at me?' she said defensively.

'You sound like a priest now,' he replied, 'trying to convert the unbeliever.'

'I suppose I am,' she allowed, accepting his chiding. 'The Cele De are a small and much maligned sect, and we grow protective.'

'Are you one of these Cele De?'

She nodded. 'All of my family belong to the sect-ever since my grandfather went on the Great Pilgrimage to Jerusalem.'

'He discovered them in Jerusalem?'

'No, he met some priests aboard the ship that carried him to the Holy Land. He would not have survived the journey without them. When he returned he rewarded them with lands, and money to build a monastery. And,' she added with quiet defiance, 'no matter what anyone says, they are the kindliest, most compassionate, and thoughtful people you will ever meet.'

'If that is true, why are they so reviled?'

'But they are not reviled!' protested Cait.

'You said they were maligned,' he pointed out. 'It is the same thing.'

'No it is not!' she snapped. 'There is a world of difference. The Cele De are never reviled.'

'No?' He looked at her askance. 'If they were not, would you defend them so heartily?' Before she could challenge this observation, he said, 'What is this True Path that they follow?'

'I am not going to tell you,' she replied crisply. 'You will only make sport of it, and -' Rognvald stopped walking. He was looking straight along the path beaten through the snow by the villagers. 'What is it? Why have you stopped?'

'More visitors.'

'Bandits?' Cait looked around quickly, but could not see anyone. 'Where?'

'Just there.' He indicated a clump of villagers a few dozen paces before them. Cait had been looking for horses and riders, and missed the two pale, slender figures standing directly in her path. Like Brother Timotheus, they were dressed in hooded robes of undyed wool and, judging from the enthusiastic welcome they were receiving from the villagers, they were well known and well liked.

'They arrived last night-burst in on us during the service,' the priest was saying. 'Ah, here are two of them now!' He motioned Cait and Rognvald to join them. 'Here, I was just telling Sister Efa about you. And this,' he said, indicating the woman next to her, 'is Sister Siaran.'

'God's peace to you, sisters,' Cait said. 'I am pleased to meet you. I am Caitriona, and this is Lord Rognvald of Haukeland in Norway.'

Both nuns pressed their hands together and inclined their heads politely. 'God bless you and keep you,' they intoned together.

When everyone had become a little better acquainted, Brother Timotheus said, 'I believe these good people have business with Abbess Annora. I was going to send word to you today, although now, as you are here, I will let them speak for themselves.' Before Cait could open her mouth, however, the priest said, 'But come, it is cold and they will have made a warming drink for us. Let us discuss matters over our cups before the fire.'

They proceeded to Dominico's house where, as Timotheus had predicted, a cauldron of hot, spiced ale was just being poured into jars-much to the noisy delight of the knights, who extolled the virtues of their host with rousing cheers as they drank his health, and that of his sons, and wife, and daughters.

Cait, Rognvald and the two sisters settled on benches in a corner of the room and the priest went to fetch the ale. 'It is such a beautiful morning,' said Cait, easing her way into the conversation. 'Have you travelled far?'

The sister called Efa replied, 'A small distance, my lady.'

That was all she said, and when it appeared there was no more forthcoming, Rognvald spoke up. 'Your robes are very like Brother Timo's here. Are you of the same order?'

'Yes, my lord,' she said, and looked down at her hands folded tightly in her lap.

'I see,' he said. 'Then you are Cele De, too.'

The two glanced quickly at one another in nervous amazement. 'You know of the Cele De?' asked the one called Siaran.

'I know all about them,' he said confidently. 'Lady Caitriona here is a stalwart defender of the order. Her family's lands support a monastery in the far north-a place called Caithness. Have you ever heard of it?'

The nuns shook their heads. 'It is true, my lady?' asked a wide-eyed Sister Efa. 'Your family maintains a monastery?'

'Yes,' Cait assured them. 'And my uncle is abbot of the order.'

'Truly?' wondered Brother Timotheus, returning just then. 'Celebrations came between us somewhat last night, but I still want to hear all about this haven in the north.'

'You must be Alethea's sister,' volunteered Sister Siaran.

'She is that,' said Rognvald, beaming with the pleasure of making these small revelations.

'We have been searching for her,' explained Cait quickly. 'Brother Timo told us she was with you.' Cait smiled, trying to put the timid sisters at their ease. 'I understand she is well.'

'Yes, my lady,' replied Efa, then lapsed into silence once more.

'Where is she? I want to see her at once. Is it far?'

The two sisters exchanged an uncertain glance, but said nothing.

'Is there something which prevents me from bringing her home?' asked Cait, growing frustrated with their reticence.

'Allow me, my lady,' said Timotheus. Addressing the two young nuns, he said, Tf I am not mistaken, you have been instructed not to speak of this matter-am I right?'

Sister Siaran, looking at her hands in her lap, nodded.

'There! You see?' cried Timotheus, as if this were the answer to all their troubles.

'But why should they refuse to speak about it? I am her sister,' Cait said, 'we have been searching for her a very long time. I want to see her, and -'

'Please, please,' said Timotheus quickly, 'all in good time. I imagine the abbess will have her reasons.'

'Then I will not press you,' Cait replied, trying to remain calm and reasonable. 'But you must take me to her. Please, I need to see her -you must understand.'

'But my lady -' protested Efa, looking to Brother Timotheus for help.

'It may not be convenient -' the priest began.

'I want to go to my sister,' she insisted, her tone growing sharp. 'I do not care if it is convenient or not. We have travelled a very long way and… people have died.' Her voice broke and hot tears came to her eyes. 'I have to see and know she is well.'

Rognvald put his hand on her shoulder and she allowed herself to be drawn close. 'It is true,' he said to Timotheus. 'We have endured many hardships in the search. It seems a needless cruelty to deny us when we are so close.'

'Forgive me, my friends,' said Timotheus soothingly. 'I have spoken without sufficient forethought.' He gave Cait's hand a fatherly pat. 'You shall see your sister, of course you shall. This very day.'

'We will leave at once,' Rognvald said, 'and go as swiftly as horses can carry us.'

'Oh, no!' said the priest shaking his head in dismay. 'It is not permitted.'

'What?' said the knight. 'Are you saying horses are not permitted?'

'Men are not permitted!' replied Timotheus. 'Nor weapons, either. The abbey contains women only. You must stay behind, my friend. The abbess is most strict about this. In all my years I have never known an exception.'

'Perhaps I may be allowed to escort the women part way,' suggested Rognvald. 'Would there be any objection to that, do you think?'

'Providing you left your weapons behind,' the priest agreed, 'I suppose it would be allowed.'

'Thank you, brother,' Cait said, 'I am much obliged.' She stood quickly. 'I will gather my things and make ready to go.'

'I would still prefer to announce your arrival,' Timotheus answered, 'but in light of your feelings, I see no reason why we cannot forgo that formality. Yes, why not? When the sisters have concluded their visit, you shall return to the abbey with them.'

Cait hurried away, leaving the others to finish their festive ale. When she returned a short while later, she was dressed in her best clothes and her hair had been brushed and her face washed until the skin glowed. She fairly hummed with happy anticipation as she hurried outside where Rognvald had brought horses for Cait and himself, and one for the two nuns, dubious riders at best, to share.

Brother Timotheus and some of the villagers accompanied them to the edge of the settlement, and bade them farewell. The nuns pointed out the path, and they quickly found themselves on a steeply rising trail leading into the mountains which towered above the village. They rode in silence, enjoying the crisp, crystalline beauty of the day, listening to the birds in the snow-laden branches of the tall pines growing alongside the trail. After a time, they left the trees behind; the track became more narrow and winding as it snaked up and up into a sky of blazing blue.

The snow-covered path bent inward, following a fold in the mountainside. The sides of the trail rose high and sheer as the walls of a fortress, and when the riders emerged once more, they could see the little village far, far below, snug in its hollow, as if nestled in the palm of a gigantic hand, the surrounding peaks like fingers.

Another bend removed the village from sight, and they came to a chasm dividing two peaks. The gorge was deep and narrow, spanned by a simple bridge made of rope and wood. Rognvald reined in and dismounted; he examined the bridge and concluded that he dare not risk taking horses across. 'The abbey is not far,' Sister Efa told them. 'We will walk from here.'

'Then this is where I leave you,' the knight said to the women as he dismounted. He helped the nuns down from the saddle, and then watched as they tripped lightly across the fragile-looking bridge. Then it was Cait's turn. Rognvald wished her God's own speed, and said, 'I pray you find all is well, and eagerly await your return.'

Cait, watching the swaying bridge with mounting apprehension, nodded; gripping the side ropes in either hand she took a deep breath and started across, her eyes fixed firmly on the waiting figure o›f Sister Efa. Rognvald watched until she had safely reached the other side where she turned and waved him farewell, then he gathered up the reins, turned the horses, and returned to the settlement.

Beyond the chasm, the trail passed between two steep baire rock slopes before arriving at a low tunnel which had been chiselled out of the mountain stone. Although the tunnel was dark and damp, it was not long, and Cait emerged on the other side to find tfce trail winding gently down beside a racing mountain stream. The three women walked along, quiet in one another's company, an d soon arrived at a stand of tall thin birch trees.

They walked through the wood, which ended shortly, ar~id Cait stepped out from among the trees into a high mountain glade. At the far end of the snow-drifted meadow, she could see a crramped huddle of buildings which, she assumed, formed the Abbey- of the Grey Marys.

They followed the trail beside the stream, and soon cames to the first of the outbuildings: two simple barns with adjoining stone enclosures for sheep and goats, and four modest but well-thiatched storehouses, solid-looking on their stone foundations. Ne^xt they passed the square expanse of a field, its rippling ridges visible beneath thick snow. At one end of the field was an orcr-iard of small, well-tended trees; on one side of the grove stood a ffine tall stack c^ chopped wood, and on the other side was a triple row of beehives; the familiar sight of their high-mounded white hurrnps sent a pang of homely longing through Cait and her heart quickaened.

Even from a distance she could tell that this was a place oof order and peace, of humble industry and dutiful purpose. Closer, sshe saw the tidy yard, its smooth-cobbled paving swept clean of snow. On opposite sides of the yard were long rows of individual cells, each with a single tiny window and a low wooden door; on the third side of the yard stood a large, amply proportioned house of two floors with shuttered windows and, rising sharply behind this larger structure, a rugged tawny shoulder of the mountain whose sheltering peak soared high above the neat little abbey.

There was no church or chapel that she could see, but the abbey's unadorned, uncluttered simplicity appealed to Cait; she warmed to the place even before she heard the singing-which stopped her in her tracks with its clear, angelic mellifluence.

'What is that?' she said, her breath catching in her throat.

The two sisters glanced at one another. 'It is the prayer before the midday meal, my lady,' answered Siaran.

'It is beautiful,' Cait replied, and was instantly reminded of Abbot Emlyn's strong melodious voice as he stood before the festal table in Murdo's hall, head back, arms spread wide, a song of blessing bubbling up from his throat as from a deep sweet spring. It was, she realized, the second time in as many days that she had been brought up short by singing-once in the village and now here. 'It reminded me of something,' she said, as a pang of yearning pierced her heart. It reminded me of home.

'Alethea will be there,' she said, stirring herself once more. 'Let us go and join them.'

The three hurried on, quickly crossing the yard and coming to the door of the refectory. The singing had stopped and Cait could hear the low murmur of voices from within. She paused at the door and allowed Sister Efa to open it and beckon her inside.

Trembling with anticipation, she stepped lightly across the threshold. The large room was dim, but warm; a single wide table occupied the centre of the room with benches on either side for the thirty or so nuns who had gathered for their meal. Talk ceased as Cait stepped into the room, and every face turned towards her. She glanced the length of the table for Alethea, but did not see her.

'Welcome,' said a kindly voice, and Cait turned to see a trim elderly woman hastening towards her. She was dressed as the others in a long robe of undyed wool and, like old Abbot Emlyn back home, wore a large wooden cross on a leather loop around her neck. Her hair was white, and the bones stood out on her wrists and hands, but her step was quick and her dark eyes keen. 'I am Abbess Annora. We are just beginning our meal. Please, join us.'

'God be good to you. I am looking for my sister,' said Cait, scanning the table once more. 'Brother Timotheus told me she would be here.'

The older woman smiled. 'You must be Caitriona. Alethea has told us about you.' Addressing the nuns at table, the abbess announced the identity of their visitor, and bade the sisters make her welcome. Cait offered them a hurried greeting, then once more turned to the abbess, who said, 'Alethea has been praying for you.'

'Then she is here,' said Cait, hope flickering bright once more. 'Where is she? Can you tell her I am here? She will want to know I have found her at last.'

'Are you hungry?' asked the abbess. 'Would you like something to eat after your long walk?'

'Thank you, no,' said Cait, frustration sharpening her tone. 'Please, I want to see my sister.'

'Come with me.' She took Cait by the elbow and led her through a door at the far end of the refectory. The room they entered was small, containing only a simple straw pallet bed in a raised box, a chair, and a table. In one corner a fire cracked brightly on a tiny stone hearth.

'Your sister is well,' said Abbess Annora, closing the door behind them. 'Moreover, she is happy. But you cannot see her just now.'

'Why?' demanded Cait, feeling the heat of frustration leap up within her. Forcing down her anger, she said, 'Please-you must tell me. I have come a very long way, and -'

'Caitriona,' said the elderly nun, her voice soft and caressing as a mother's. 'Your sister is in preparation for a special ceremony which will take place tonight.'

'A ceremony…' repeated Cait. Would she never see her sister again? 'I do not understand. What kind of ceremony?'

'Alethea has been called to join our order. Tonight she will take the first step towards becoming one of us.'