The Postulant’s Tale: Chapter Six – The Decision

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Dorcas and Margery were in bed together again. In the darkness, Abigail could hear the regular creak of the rough frame and Margery’s low moans as Dorcas pleasured her with one of the candles she had pilfered from the refectory. For someone who was training to become a nun, Dorcas had an apparently insatiable appetite for lascivious activity, and Margery had shown herself a more than willing partner.Abigail tried not to listen, but the noises were themselves somewhat arousing. She forced herself not to slip her hand up under her shift to touch her own private parts. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her ears and mumbled the paternoster under her breath, trying to block out the sinful sounds. Even so, she was unable to avoid hearing Margery’s final squeal of pleasure as the candle achieved its purpose. ~~~~~~The tuneless clang of the abbey bell, announcing the hour of Matins, awakened Abigail from her disturbed sleep. Reluctantly she pushed back the single woollen blanket under which she slept and slipped on her rough habit over her shift. The bare stone was bitterly cold under her feet, and she quickly casino siteleri donned her shoes. Around her in the dormitory her fellow postulants were doing the same, some of them already disappearing through the door, and she hurried to join them.Once the bell had rung, they had only a short time to dress and hurry down the night stair to the chapel for the first of the day’s devotions. Although in the winter months it was often bitterly cold, the long dark nights meant that they would be free to sleep for up to ten hours without interruption between Compline and Matins, something that Abigail and the other young postulants found most welcome.She frowned as she passed Dorcas, but the other girl just gave her a wicked smile.“I know you were listening, Sister Abigail,” she sniggered. “Did it make you wet under your shift? You should let me help you with my candle. Sister Margery enjoys it so much. And I know Father Gregory loves to hear her confession. I’ve seen the mess on his cassock afterwards.”Abigail shook her head and pushed her way through the other girls. Satan found so many ways güvenilir casino to tempt her, and sometimes it was hard to resist.  ~~~~~~The rest of the morning passed without incident, as it most often did. But then, as she left the chapel after Sext, Abigail heard a commotion coming from the abbey gate. She could detect the voices of men among those of her fellow nuns, and she unconsciously pulled her wimple tight around her head. Her order was not totally enclosed, and they had some contact with the people (including men) who lived and worked in the nearby village, but this was not something with which Abigail was entirely comfortable. Some of her fellow postulants tried to flirt with the younger men, although only when they knew the older nuns were not looking, but Abigail always turned her head and blushed when any of the boys spoke to her.The commotion continued, and despite herself, she looked up to see what was going on. She could see three men, one of whom was being supported by the others, being ushered by the nuns towards the infirmary. Abigail sighed. It was clear what had canlı casino happened. There had been some kind of accident in the fields, maybe involving a scythe, and one of the men had been injured. The convent infirmary was the only source of medical treatment in the area, and a steady stream of sick and infirm villagers entered its doors. Some of them even came out again.As Abigail was staring, the Abbess scurried past with a worried look on her face.“Sister Abigail, come with me,” she muttered. “Let us see what this clamour is about.”Abigail hurried after her. They entered the infirmary, and the three nuns who were already there stood aside gratefully as the Abbess bustled in. She was known and respected for her medical skills, and they were confident she would know what to do.The young man was sitting on one of the low beds, his hands held out in front of him. Abigail gasped despite herself, and even the Abbess seemed shocked for a moment. The man’s hands were hideously blistered and burnt.“It was the blacksmith’s fire, Mother Clare,” said one of the men who had helped to bring in the injured boy. “He was reaching for a fresh brand, and he must have slipped. His hands went straight into the fire.”The Abbess at once took charge.“Hot water, ointment, and clean cloths,” she said, “And quickly. We must soothe this poor boy’s wounds and bind them to keep them clean.”

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