Storymania - Sed Libera Nos A Malo. by Terry Collett

Sed Libera Nos A Malo.
Terry Collett

When Sister Blaise broke into a babble of incoherent sounds during the Pentecostal office of Lauds, rousing Mother Margaret from her daybreak slumber and causing young Sister Elizabeth to drop her breviary with a bang between the choir stalls, it was Sister Ignatius with the aid of Sister Scholastica, who, after a gesture of the hand from Mother Abbess, escorted her with as little fuss as possible from the church, just as the Benedictus was chanted.

Trying not to break the Grand Silence, the two sisters shepherded Sister Blaise along the cloister between them, with shakes of head
and gestures of hands, with slight shoves and gentle pulls, until they reached her cell, where they managed to persuade her, with neither words nor sounds, to rest on her bed until they returned again.

"I think the poor dear's on the verge of a breakdown," said Sister Augustine later, as she walked slowly from the church after Mass towards the refectory.

"I think she's having a breakdown," informed Sister Henry as she walked inside her companion's shadow. "Poor Sister Blaise, I think Sister Felicity's departure to Rome so suddenly has slightly unhinged her."

"The less said about that episode the better," Sister Augustine declared firmly. Sister Henry nodded as they entered the refectory and lined up for their bread and coffee.

"How’s Sister Blaise, now?” Sister Martha asked the infirmarian.

"Sleeping like a baby," Sister Ignatius replied. She cut herself a thin slice of brown bread, took her off-white mug to the coffee urn, and poured some black liquid.

"What’s wrong with her do you think?” Sister Gregory asked holding her bread and mug as if they were host and chalice.

"No idea," Sister Ignatius replied. "She’s seeing the doctor this afternoon. We may have some clue then," she added, moving to her table and leaving her sisters behind to chatter.

"Sister Scholastica, do you know what ails Sister Blaise?" asked plump Sister Elizabeth quietly. Sister Scholastica, who had just entered the refectory, slowly shook her head.

"Until she's seen by the doctor, I'd rather not speculate," said Sister Scholastica gently.

"Too much Sunday cider," suggested Sister Henry, "after all, she is in charge of stores."

"She’s very Spartan in her way of life; maybe she needs a good rest from things?" said Sister Jude looking timidly about her as she spoke.

"When I was in Africa," intruded Sister Luke, “everything was Spartan and we didn't go about babbling odd sounds everywhere." Sister Luke studied the timid nun, then moved to the breadboard and cut two slices of bread as if hacking off the heads of chickens.

"Maybe she's been blessed by the Holy Spirit and is beginning to speak with tongues," announced Sister Rose one of the young novices.
Her bright eyes searched the faces of her sisters, but none commented on her statement.

"Hardly tongues," said Sister Henry after a few minutes of thought, "More a babble of demons." A few heads turned towards the nun's words, and Sister Rose crossed herself.

After that, silence entered the refectory and each looked at the wall facing them or out of the high windows above their heads, churning over in their minds what they thought it was that had caused Sister Blaise to behave in such a way, and although each had ideas, none now wanted to share their ideas with their surrounding sisters.

Once the doctor had been and made his diagnosis, Sister Ignatius left Sister Blaise's cell in the company of Sister Scholastica. "Do you think the doctor's right; that she needs to see a psychiatrist?” Sister Ignatius asked her companion as they walked down the stairs towards Mother Abbess's office.

"No," Sister Scholastica replied with a sigh, "I don't. She's not in need of that kind of treatment." She said no more for a few moments and the two nuns walked along the corridor until they came to the Abbess's office. The office was cool and Mother Abbess was seated behind her huge oak table.

"What do you think, Sister Ignatius?" the Abbess asked after being informed of the doctor's diagnosis.

"I’m not sure, Mother, but Sister Scholastica thinks it not a good idea," Sister Ignatius replied cautiously. The Abbess moved her eyes from one nun to the other.

"Well?” Mother Abbess uttered, her voice rising a tone.

"I think, Mother, that Sister Blaise needs to speak with an informed priest," Sister Scholastica replied, softly. The Abbess raised her eyebrows and pulled a face.

"Our chaplain not informed enough?" the Abbess said, her voice a tone higher.

"That I cannot say," Sister Scholastica replied quietly.

"So you think she needs an informed priest and not a psychiatrist?”
the Abbess said, searching the features of Sister Scholastica and fixing her gaze eventually on the nun's glasses, which enlarged her bright blue eyes.

"Yes, Mother," Sister Scholastica stated.

"Why?” Mother Abbess asked, looking into the enlarged eyes.

Sister Scholastica bowed her head in a gesture of obedience, and delivered a reasoned soliloquy which revealed her knowledge of both psychology and matters spiritual, which in turn, caused Mother Abbess, before the nun had completed her speech, to dismiss from her mind the doctor's suggestion of a psychiatrist for Sister Blaise as if it were some lewd remark, and began to wonder if Father Woodworth was indeed informed enough for the task. When Sister Scholastica had finished giving her reasons, she stood motionless with her hands hidden beneath her black habit and her bespectacled eyes fixed on the dark stained wooden floor. The Abbess rose from her table, walked slowly to the window, and peered down into the cloister. Her mind was considering whether to inform the bishop of the matter. After a few minutes peering at the cloister and juggling her thoughts, she decided against informing the bishop for the present moment lest he send Sister Blaise to Rome as he had Sister Felicity. She turned to face her two daughters with an expression, which told them that she had made up her mind about Sister Blaise, and as she moved back to her table, she delivered her decision on the matter as if she'd been considering the issue for the better part of a lifetime.

The chaplain, Father Woodworth, knocked firmly on the door of Sister Blaise's cell; he was accompanied by Sister Scholastica, who stood just behind him with her hands concealed in her habit. A voice from the other side of the door bade them enter. The chaplain opened the door slowly and peered around the edge as if he were about to say, “Boo!”, then deciding all was well, he entered into the room with Sister Scholastica following, the latter closing the door quietly behind them.

"How are you, Sister Blaise?" the chaplain asked. Sister Blaise was seated in an old armchair facing the window and did not rise or turn her head when the visitors entered her cell.

"Am becoming as death is: cold, dark and seemingly remote," the nun replied in a voice that was deeper than her own was and without turning her head.

"Shouldn’t you be resting on your bed, Blaise?” Sister Scholastica remarked gently, studying the hands of the nun in the armchair, which were resting on the worn arms.

"If you'll come with me, sister?" the voice said from the armchair. The nun turned her head and stared at Sister Scholastica with eyes that were both dark and narrow.

The chaplain raised his right hand as if he were about to bless, but instead waved his finger in a sign of negating what had been said. He then spoke a few phrases in Latin, which caused the nun in the armchair to throw back her head and spit a huge amount of phlegm at the chaplain, which hit his shoulder. Again he raised his hand, repeated the negating gesture with his finger, and spoke a few more phrases in Latin. Sister Blaise's head hit back against the armchair forcefully and she spewed out a stream of abuse in a voice that had deepened and was harsher.

"Do you know what day it is today, Blaise?” Sister Scholastica broke in amidst the abusive language from the nun sitting rigidly in the armchair.

"Have you ever had sex with a man, Scholastica?" the voice replied coldly, the head of the nun turning so that her face was hard against the armchair rest. The chaplain coughed. Sister Scholastica shook her head in a negative gesture to the words and their meaning. The nun in the armchair gripped the arms of the chair tightly and glared at the chaplain. She then uttered several copulating suggestions in a voice that now was almost a deep scream. The chaplain raised his hand and shook his finger again in the face of the nun seated before him.

"Leave her," Father Woodworth demanded firmly, gesturing with his finger to the other side of the room. The nun's features became momentarily distorted and another stream of abuse followed which was worse than before, making the chaplain move away and put hands over his ears. "Perhaps you should go, Sister Scholastica," the chaplain murmured, moving towards the door.

"No," Sister Scholastica replied. "I cannot leave you here alone, Father. Who knows what will happen," she added, standing firm by the table as before.

"Why don't you both go," the voice said from the armchair, the tone menacing. The nun rose from the chair as if pushed and fell against window. The chaplain backed himself against the door. Sister Scholastica clutched her rosary and gently brushed her thumb against the crucified Christ as if to awakened powers.

"Maybe we should let her rest, Father?” Sister Scholastica suggested calmly, letting her bespectacled eyes search the features of the nun before her. The chaplain murmured agreement from behind her and felt for the door handle with his back to the door.

"Go!" the voice shouted from the nun by the window. "Leave us be!" the voice bellowed deeper, moving the nun away from the window and towards Sister Scholastica. The two nuns stood face to face and a few seconds of tenseness filled the room. Sister Scholastica brought out a small bottle from her pocket and removed the stopper. Sister Blaise moved backwards, her eyes staring at the bottle, her hands gripping each other tightly. "Put that away!" the voice drawled. Sister Scholastica raised the bottle and sprinkled holy water vigorously towards the nun before her. The nun screamed out abuse, scratching out towards Sister Scholastica with her left hand as if she were a cornered wildcat.

"We had better go," the chaplain suggested, "we'll come back later when she's calmer." Having found the door handle he turned it slowly and pulled the door forward with him. But before he could move, the door jerked shut from his hands, forcefully.

Silence filled the room. The chaplain froze to the spot, his hands simulating the cold chill down his spine. Sister Blaise stood rigid against the window, her eyes large and frightened. Sister Scholastica
put the bottle away and sighed.

The community had been, for the most part, surprised to see Sister Blaise in church during Vespers. She looked slightly drained, but no utterances other than those from the Office came from her lips, much to the relief of Mother Abbess, who scrutinized the young nun surreptiously from her place on the other side of the choir. Sister Scholastica stood in her place a few feet away, lifting her bespectacled eyes from her breviary occasionally, feeling as sense of relief that all now seemed well.

"Seems to have recovered now?” Sister Henry said as she and Sister Augustine walked along the cloister after supper.

"So much for your demons," Sister Augustine remarked with a smile.

"Much less the Holy Spirit that Sister Rose suggested." The two nuns continued with their debate and disappeared slowly up the stairs to their cells.

Sister Elizabeth and Sister Rose stood in the scullery washing the dishes used at supper. "Your idea about the Holy Spirit seems to have been wrong, Rose," Sister Elizabeth said. "Not as scary as Sister Henry's ideas about demons, though." Sister Rose crossed herself with a wet hand.

"Don’t, Elizabeth, I'll not sleep tonight. Wonder what the problem was then? She seems well enough now," Sister Rose said in a hushed tone, looking over her shoulder, lest the Devil himself were listening to her.

"I heard that Father Woodworth and Sister Scholastica had something to do with her recovery," Sister Elizabeth informed in a whisper.

"Really?” Sister Rose said. Sister Elizabeth nodded her head. "Do you think she may have had demons?” Sister Rose asked, her eyes wide and dark. Sister Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders, then placed a finger to her lips. Silence settled between them. Each thought their thoughts alone. Each feared a separate fear, but both were linked.

In the church Sisters Blaise and Scholastica knelt in choir together.
The silence was broken when Sister Blaise whispered, “I am frightened it may return. What can I do?”

Sister Scholastica placed her hand on the other nun's arm. "Pray for Our Lord's grace, Blaise. He will protect you, "Sister Scholastica said gently.

"I felt such feelings and thoughts entered my head that both frightened and appalled me. Visions came to me that made me feel dirty and used..." Sister Blaise paused. Her eyes closed. She sensed Sister Scholastica's hand squeeze her arm softly.

"We are only responsible for what we allow ourselves to say and do.
Free will is essential for both sin and remorse to exist. You were not responsible for what was said today," Sister Scholastica said.

"I have sinned, Scholastica," Sister Blaise stated. She put her hands over her face and wept.

"The awareness of one's sinfulness is the beginning of repentance," Sister Scholastica informed quietly. "The need for repentance is the beginning of salvation. Even saints have been tempted by the Devil.
He doesn't bother those he already has; he wants those near to God and close to salvation."

Sister Blaise removed her hands from her face and looked at the nun beside her. "I’m frightened," Sister Blaise whispered.

"Remember what we sing during Compline," Sister Scholastica said.
"Procul recedant somnia et noctium phantasmata. Let phantoms of our sleep and night flee far away. Remember, Blaise, we are at war with sin, outside and within." Sister Blaise nodded her head and Sister Scholastica touched her sister's arm like a blessing that brought comfort and a sense of peace.