The Novice’s Tale
“There was a drowse of autumn to the air, and in the fields beyond St. Frideswide’s priory walls the harvest went its steady pace under the clear sky. There had been rain enough and sun enough since mid-July to bring the grain full ripeness. Now most of it lay in golden swaths behind the reapers or was already gathered into shocks to dry. All month long the days had become familiar with the calling of the men and women back and forth at their work, the cries of children scouting birds away, and ...the creak of carts along the tracks to bring the harvest home. Inside St. Frideswide’s walls there was awareness of the harvest but none of its haste or noise; only, as nearly always, a settled quiet. A sway of skirts along stone floors, the muted scuff of soft leather soles on the stair; rarely a voice and then only briefly and in whispers since the rule of silence held here, except for the hour of recreation and the proper, bell-regulated hours of prayer sung and chanted in the church. A Benedictine peace ruled there, Thomasine thought as she paused to gaze out the narrow window on the stairs to the prioress’s parlor, a plate of honey cakes in her hands, still warm from the oven.MoreLess
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