Isobel Ch 01 1

1

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Duart Point, Scotland, May, A.D 780

There are many things that can impassion the soul.

For some, their souls are tortured and their lives serve to endure.

And they die thankful for it.

Then there are those that rage at injustice and see the future as a measure of the burden that they carry from the past.

And only death can release them.

And then there are those untroubled by the past, unburdened by their own sins or those of others.

For their passion lies in what is to come....

Isobel disliked old Johnne the ferryman. There had been disagreement between their families in the past, So a seed for her antipathy perhaps. But really it was the loss of his sons and his fishing boat that made her dislike him.

The boat had foundered in a storm before it could reach the leeward of the 'point' and the safety of the small harbour. Old Johnne's sons had drowned and his boat and livelihood were dashed on the rocks.

He was the only survivor and his hatred of everything, his wife, and his hatred of himself, made him poisonous in a village so small. But the reason for his hatred and Isobel's dislike of him was that he had gone into the storm against the advice of everyone. And it was the entire village that would have to support his sons widowers and young children in one way or another.

Old Johnne hated himself of course, because he had survived.

It was also evident that old Johnne hated the job and title he had had bestowed on him thereafter.

Isobel stood on the small stone jetty as he sculled the rowing boat round and fastened the rope round the cast iron ring set into the wall. He glowered up at her, his weathered face, lined and creased, framing eyes that lit his interior anger.

" You'll not be needing much where your going" He said reaching up for Isobel's woollen bag.

Isobel handed it to him without comment.

Johnne was also an indirect cause of her journey today. The additional pressure of mouths to feed, meant that more profitable work needed to be sought by Isobel's family.

At twenty, Isobel supported her family through weaving, basket making and the making and repairing of the lobster pots for her father and the village. However everyone in the village knew that the return of Janette, the blacksmiths daughter from the monastery meant there was a vacancy.

Old Johnne's main task was to ferry supplies and people to and from Duart Island and the monastery of the same name. The day he returned with Janette a full year before her contracted employ as a servant had ended set the village abuzz with speculation.

As Isobel stepped unsteadily into the boat she declined the outstretched hand. Johnne scowled at her. She sat at the the stern and he immediately cast off. He quickly settled into a practiced smooth rhythm judging the swell of the sea and the dip of the oars expertly.

Isobel was disconcerted that they had to face each other. His gaze was unsettling. She pulled her cloak closer to her.

As they rounded the point and left the small harbour, the swell rose making Isobel feel slightly nauseous. Ahead the island came into view, 300 yards from the village at low tide. She could clearly see the Celtic monastery. Two buildings, one for the monks and one for the nuns she had been told, joined by a cloister. Above them the Abbey dominated the skyline.

"Well I hope your stay is longer than the other lass" Johnne said.

" Now that didn't end well did it?"

Isobel gave an involuntary shudder. When the girl had returned she would not speak a word to anyone. Her family were not there to greet her. Isobel had watched her progress up the steep track from the jetty from a shuttered window. She had a haunted look opening her eyes only when necessary to guide her progress. Johnne continued;

" Walked straight past the smithy and out to god knows where." He hawked and spat over the side of the boat

But Isobel knew the path that Janette had taken out of the village. It led to Duart bluff and the cliffs that gave a distant view of Ireland. Everyone knew.

Johnne rarely spoke in the village. Isobel was surprised when he continued

"It's an enclosed place, the monasteries and the village is the only contact with the outside world....' For the first time since his sons death Isobel saw Johnne smile and give a strange look

"..But you'll not lack for company"

Isobel averted her gaze. As they neared the island she saw a stone jetty and realised that someone was stood there. It was the largest man Isobel had ever seen. Even from the remaining hundred yards they had to travel she realised that he stood a full head above anyone in her community. His massive bulk was confined within the black serge frock and scapular of a Benedictine Monk, a cowl covering his head. His face was in shadow, arms folded, seemingly as immovable as the stone of the jetty itself.

" Is he there?" Johnne said suddenly looking to the sky.

"It's past midday and he's not a man to be kept waiting"

" There's a monk" Said Isobel still transfixed by the monks size

" That's brother George" Johnne said, adjusting his oar stroke to aim for the jetty.

" They say he took a vow of silence. But i know better" Old Johnne hawked and spat again turning his head to the leeward of the wind

"Brother George was caught by the Northmen when they raided his church in Ireland. Took him for a slave to take back to their heathen land. He tried to convert them. They cut out his tongue for his efforts"

They neared the jetty.

"They got caught in a storm and foundered. Their vessel shares a resting place near my own" He looked at Isobel and she saw a fleeting glimpse of his inner pain.

" Brother George survived as did two of their number. They were put to the sword and Brother George found a new home"

Isobel remembered the story of the Viking ship well, incorporated into the oral history of the village to be shared down the generations. Brother George was absent from the story recounted on her grandmothers knee.

When they were 30 yards from the shore Old Johnne suddenly leaned forward, his eyes blazing but his voice low

"I know I'm hated" He said. He leaned further forward until his face was a foot from hers. Then he said something incomprehensible to Isobel

" Whatever you do, do not be with child"

Before Isobel could reply, Johnne leaned back abruptly, turned and threw the mooring rope. She followed the rope as it snaked out and was caught by the massive figure towering above them. She saw a dark beard and coal black eyes glowering at Old Johnne. They briefly looked to the sky.

" Aye brother George, time's moving on" Johnne said and moved a hand from an oar to cross himself.

Isobel rose unsteadily to find a step on the jetty. She was shocked when a huge pair of hands reached down and lifted her effortlessly out of the boat, still clutching her bag and deposited her on the jetty.

Before she could speak the eyes bored into her with an unmistakable message; you are late.

He turned and strode off up the track leaving her clutching her bag. She turned and saw old Johnne already twenty yards from the jetty, eyes fixed in her.

She hurried after the massive figure already gasping with exertion.

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Brother George reached the arched cloisters and turned right striding purposefully, toward the nunnery. He didn't pause or look over his shoulder until he reached a vaulted oak door. He knocked and waited. Isobel reached his side, struggling for breath and clutching her bag to her breast.

Brother George glowered down on her. She barely reached his chest in height. Isobel heard the sound of a bolt being drawn. The door opened to reveal a woman of about Isobel's age wearing the black frock of the Benedictine order. She wore a white veil covering her hair indicating that she was a novice under training and instruction. She smiled, her oval face and brown eyes seemed kind.

" My name is Ysenda" She said. "Her Reverence, the Abbess Hilda is expecting you. You are late and she should not be kept waiting" Her smile faded momentarily " I was tasked with showing you your quarters and the building. But your appointment cannot be further delayed. I will show you your room where you can put your bag then Brother George will take you" Ysenda avoided brother George's gaze.

" May I keep my bag" Isobel said, suddenly anxious.

Ysenda's smile faded again

" I have my instructions"

Isobel knew she had no choice. She also knew that she would not have the opportunity to hide an object in the bag that she did not want anyone to see.

The thought of it's discovery gave her a thrill of fear.

'Come" Ysenda said, and turned to walk down a vaulted corridor. Isobel followed her.

The door closed and Brother George took up his post outside.

At the end of the corridor, Ysenda turned to her left. As Isobel joined her, she opened a door to her right and gestured with her hand.

" This is your room"

Isobel entered what was a tiny cell with a small shuttered window. A cot of rough hewn wood with bedding straw and a woollen blanket rolled up at its end took up most of the room. A wooden hollowed out bowl sat on a simple table.

" Please leave your bag and belongings here" Ysenda said and, without waiting for a reply, turned to walk back down the corridor.

Isobel reluctantly placed her bag beside the bed and had no choice but to hurry after Ysenda.

" You should always address Abbess Hilda as Your Reverence. Kneel to receive her blessing" Ysenda said opening the door that led to the cloister. Brother George had not moved.

Isobel walked, two strides to Brother George's one as they passed through the cloisters and made their way up a stone path to the Abbey. The Abbess' private chambers were attached to the south transept and Brother George entered through a side door. Isobel followed down a dark candle lit corridor at the end of which was a further door.

Brother George knocked quietly.

There was a pause and an almost inaudible voice said

"Come"

Isobel entered the room and the door closed, Brother George, stationed outside.

Her senses were struck by several things at once.

This was the first room that Isobel had entered that had glass in the window, a very expensive commodity. It was ghostly opaque and the pale sun cast a luminous glow to the room through the mullioned window.

It was also the first room that she had seen that had a fireplace that had an internal chimney breast. A small peat fire glowed in the hearth.

As a consequence, the room seemed unearthly quite in the absence of the wind and sounds outside, and there was a lack of the acrid smokiness that accompanied any room with a lit fire that she was used to.

Then she looked at the Abbess and experienced an immediate thrill of fear.

The Abbess sat behind a large oak desk, apparently absorbed in a manuscript laid before her. Isobel initially thought her of middle age, but as Abbess Hilda raised her head and fixed her with dark almost black eyes, she seemed of an age impossible to determine. She felt a tingle of fear again and realised she had begun to shake. Before she cast her eyes downward, she noted the Abbess' raven black hair.

" Come my child" The voice was soft and melodic.

Isobel looked up and was startled to see that the Abbess now stood to one side of the table, her right hand, palm down, proffered to her. On her middle finger, a ring with with a red ruby glowed in the light of the fire.

The Abbess was tall and wore a simple habit that reached to her feet. On her left breast she wore a gold pectoral cross, this and the ring, the sign and station of her office.

Isobel walked forward and knelt in front of the Abbess who proffered the ring. Isobel instinctively kissed it and felt an almost instant jolt of energy course through her. She gasped. The hand lingered and Isobel looked up into the Abbess' liquid eyes and felt naked under their scrutiny. The Abbess nodded as if confirming a thought. She withdrew her hand and Isobel expelled a breath she was unaware had been held.

The Abbess returned to her seat at the desk seemingly gliding rather than walking. She gazed at the manuscript.

" You were shown your quarters Isobel"

It was a statement. Unbidden Isobel immediately thought of the object she wished was with her now.

" Your...bag is safe Isobel" Said the soft hypnotic voice

Isobel gasped and flushed, immediately terrified. The Abbess had read her thoughts?, how could she know otherwise?

Before she could give any response, the Abbess raised her head and looked at Isobel smiling. It was a calming smile that seemed to enter Isobel's head, commanding a required response.

Isobel smiled back.

" Do you read Isobel?" The Abbess had returned her attention to the manuscript and the smile that had sat with Isobel left.

" I read only a little Your Reverence. And then only to learn the documents for the affairs of my father"

As Isobel finished, she was certain that the Abbess already knew this.

"This document sets out the terms of your employ as a servant of our community" This time the Abbess face was impassive as she looked up.

" Do you understand the conditions that this sets out?"

Brother Osborn had visited the family house on the mainland and spoken at length with her father. He had then asked to see her and looked her up and down, minutely scrutinising her, before nodding his head. She had felt acutely uncomfortable, reminded of the farmers market where they appraised the cattle to be bartered and sold

He had then gone through the monasteries requirements and made her repeat them back until he was satisfied she understood.

" I have had them explained Your Reverence" Said Isobel, her eyes cast downward

"Then repeat the three main clauses to me" The Abbess rolled up the document and folded her hands as if in prayer

"Look at me child"

As if guided by some unseen hand Isobel looked up and was transported into the depths of the dark eyes. She began immediately

" The first clause is that my tenure is for three years and that I will not leave the monastery during that time under any circumstances accept in death" The eyes measured Isobel and somewhere in her conscious she was given permission to continue

"The second clause is that I must obey the instructions I am given by those that govern me without question. Failure to carry out an instruction will forfeit one pound of my yearly income which goes directly to my father" Isobel was to be paid three pounds a year. The thought of the family losing any of this was inconceivable.

The eyes registered this

" The third clause" Isobel continued "Is that all matters relating to the monastery; what is said and what is done, remain private and secret under oath..... For life. To break this oath will be a sin under god and will be punished accordingly"

There was silence and the eyes searched into what seemed like Isobel's soul, weighing her, knowing her. Then suddenly the eyes released her and Isobel fell to her knees.

"You have learned well Isobel"

Isobel looked up and felt bathed in the Abbesses smile which had returned. She had felt that she had overcome an ordeal.

" I believe that your heart and mind are of one accord in your understanding of our requirements. That is most gratifying" The Abbess moved the rolled up manuscript to one side

"This will be signed by both parties as a contract. But only after you complete your initiation into our community"

Isobel registered her confusion

" Initiation Your Reverence? Brother Osborn did not mention this"

" This falls under clause two my child" The Abbess continued

" Our community has certain needs that can only be met by the most dedicated and observant servants in our employ. You will need to be tested to prove your worth"

" May I ask....." Isobel was interrupted

"You may not" Said the Abbess. Isobel felt the same nameless thrill of fear she had felt earlier.

The Abbess rose in one sinuous movement and looked out of the window. Her face was bathed in an ethereal light.

" The Brothers and Sisters are permitted to congregate together only during mass and the Liturgy of the Hours. You will be tested during this time" The Abbess' voice again seemed, soft, hypnotic, drawing Isobel into its embrace.

"Yes, Your Reverence" Isobel said

The Abbess turned to face Isobel and smiled.

"But first you must be purified"

Before Isobel could reply, the Abbess summoned brother George and though her voice remained soft, the door opened instantly. She turned back to the window.

"Sister Agnes is waiting for Isobel"

Brother George motioned impatiently and Isobel realised that the audience was over.

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Brother George and Isobel descended to the cloisters and he knocked once more at the vaulted door. Ysenda was there and Isobel saw that she seemed nervous, even afraid. Brother George was already striding toward the monks monastery.

" You'll have time time to rest a little before...." Ysenda's voice trailed off as she closed and bolted the door.

Isobel removed her cloak and once the door to her room was closed, immediately picked up her bag. She reached past her meagre belongings to the bottom of the bag, her heart racing. She let out a sigh as her hand touched the cloth bound object. It was the size of her palm and she felt it's weight as she withdrew it from the bag.

The linen cloth was tied with a leather cord and she undid this.

And there, in her hand was a circular pendant made of copper. Engraved into its surface was a circle with a crescent touching each side. Below was an engraving of the skull and antlers of a stag.

The Moon Goddess

The Horned God

Isobel caressed the images softly with her fingers as she had done a thousand times, adding to the patina and wear of generations of use. As her grandmother had done.

Her breathing steadied. Isobel had realised the immense risk she had taken in bringing the pendant to the Abbey and monasteries.

It was a risk she was prepared to take.

Isobel sought a hiding place in the room and quickly realised with increasing anxiety that in such a small space there seemed nowhere. In desperation she pulled the bed from the wall, testing the coarse stone for a nook or cranny. At the bottom of the wall, toward the far corner, her hand trailed over a slightly protruding stone. It moved slightly. She pulled and to her surprise the stone slid out to reveal a recess.

Had a previous occupant had a secret that they needed to hide?

Isobel quickly pushed the pendant into the recess and carefully replaced the stone. She pushed the bed back.

She knew the risk. If she had discovered the recess, then it was possible that others knew. Before she could consider further, there was a knock and Ysenda entered. She had nearly been caught.

But clearly Ysenda was troubled by something else. Her anxiety was clear.

"It is time to meet Sister Agnes" She said and began to wring her hands

But what shocked Isobel was Ysenda's appearance.

Ysenda wore a long white linen slip, a Kirtle, which was usually worn as an undergarment. It reached down almost to her feet which was bare.

Isobel also wore a Kirtle gathered up under her belted woollen tunic which reached to her calves.

Ysenda's head was bare, her long brown hair plaited down to the small of her back.

" I am to assist in your purification" Ysenda looked at Isobel and unconsciously bit her lower lip