The normally quiet halls of the Our-Lady-Of-Peace nunnery were filled with soft chatter. The rule of silence was left temporarily forgotten as nuns hurriedly whispered among themselves, though a few at least tried to keep their conversations constrained to the customary sign-language.

The sisters who had gone to the market that morning had brought back rumours from the nearby town and they had sent an anxious energy throughout the convent. The news was neither new nor surprising, but it was frightening nonetheless.

All summer similar messages had come in. Groups of men wandering through the countryside and cities, smashing the statues and stained glass-windows. Burning the paintings in every church, chapel or monastery they could find. Accusing the clergy of idolatry.

The reports of the attacks varied, sometimes the brigands did it in an orderly, quiet fashion; other times it was accompanied by mockery of the clergy and drunkenness. The destruction was rarely accompanied by attacks on persons, thankfully, but it remained shocking sacrilege nonetheless.

So far the monastery had remained free from attack, the area it lay in less affected by this heresy than others, but no one expected that to last. The abbess had already spent some of the monastery’s funds on hiring men to stand guard and take watch around the grounds.

Moreover, a group of nuns had been sent to the calmer south to take refuge with a friendly monastery in Liège, taking with them the finger of St. Agnes that was the monastery’s most precious possession as well as the works of art and the liturgical vessels. In the event of an attack the monastery’s treasures would be safe at least.

Unlike the others, sister Louise didn’t partake in the gossip. Her mind was too occupied with other matters. So she passed by the groups of talking nuns, trying to focus on possible remedies for a sick sage-bush in the herb garden to prevent her mind from drifting to more unpleasant matters. That was, until a small bark from by her feet shook her out of her worried contemplation.

Down by her feet a little dog with a curly black coat barked up at her, his tail wagging. A small smile came on Louise’s face as she picked him up. Lancelot, as she’d called the dog, was quite spoiled and he preferred being carried to having to walk anywhere by himself. The littlr rascal was hardly an example of Christian virtue. Sister Magdalena had warned her to make sure to train him properly when she gave him to Louise but, well, a nun’s life left little time for dog training. Luckily he was cute enough that most everyone at the monastery tolerated his laziness.

She sighed at the memory. Lancelot had been a present from Magdalena, who had gotten him from her brother who bred dogs. He was all Louise had left right now of the other nun, and she couldn’t keep her thoughts from wandering anymore.

Louise had met sister Magdalena when she was still new at the convent. She’d hardly been an exemplary novice, quite the opposite. The decision to become a nun had been her own, both out of piety and to avoid the marriage her parents had been intending to arrange for her. But the strict rules and quiet, controlled life had grated on Louise, which had resulted in her acting out quite a lot. After one bad incident in the choir, she’d been punished by having to tend to the monastery’s pigs for two weeks. And well…

Piglets were very easy to miss and very good at tripping you up.

So Louise had landed herself in the convent’s small hospital wing with a broken leg. Luckily not so bad that it would have left her permanently impaired but it had been clear that she’d be staying in bed for a good long while.

And that’s where she first saw Magdalena.

The other nun was fifteen years her senior and in charge of the hospital. She had been a welcome presence for Louise, since the only other inhabitant of the hospital besides herself had been Walburga, a very old nun who was put there because her age meant she required constant oversight and attention. Not the most uplifting company.

Sister Magdalena had helped her a lot. Not just through her skill in healing, which was admittedly prodigious, and Louise would seriously consider breaking the “love thy enemy” commandment if she ever heard someone saying otherwise. But Magdalena had also helped her mentally. Her struggles with adapting to monastic life as a novice and then being confined to her bed after an embarrassing accident had left Louise feeling very unsure of herself, about what her future should be and whether she was even suitable to become a nun.

Magdalena had kept her distracted from those worries through conversation, talking about news from outside the hospital and facts about the human body and healing. When old sister Walburga was asleep and couldn’t give commentary, she had also listened to Louise’s worries and fears with understanding. The older nun had reassured her that all would be well and it had been hard to stay worried when she was around.

When Louise had left the hospital she’d felt herself a changed woman, more at peace and assured. She had taken Magdalena’s recommendation to pray more, entrusting her worries and frustrations to the Virgin that gave their monastery its name.

It had helped, being able to vent all her frustrations and fears in the knowledge that She would understand and wouldn’t judge her. It was a good outlet for Louise’s worries and as a consequence, it made it a lot easier to function in the quiet environment of the monastery.

Even after her leg had healed Louise and Magdalena had kept talking. At first it had been a very ordinary friendship, the kinds that novices often developed with an older mentor. But soon it had changed into something more. Outside of prayer Louise had found her thoughts drifting to the other woman more and more, even when she should have been focusing on the book she was supposed to be reading or on the embroidery she’d been doing.

After being accepted into the monastery as a full-fledged nun Louise had asked permission to focus on tending the monastery’s herb garden. That hadn’t been solely due to her own interest. After all, the herb garden was closely tied with the hospital because of it’s medicinal herbs. And if she had let the dandelions that Magdalena loved so much grow a bit more than she should, that also wasn’t a coincidence.

Louise hadn’t been the only one dealing with such feelings. The way Magdalena talked to her had switched from being that of an elder to a novice, or from a mother to a daughter, to the way one talked to an equal or friend. A very good friend. It wasn’t just Magdalena helping Louise anymore, they helped each other. Magdalena had started to trust Louise with her own worries and insecurities too.

And while Louise may have begun to work in the herb garden to be able to see Magdalena more, Magdalena in turn had been coming to the herb garden a lot more than was strictly necessary.

Then, on a warm summer day, when the hospital was empty save for the two of them and a snoring sister Walburga, they’d exchanged a chaste kiss.

The abbess encouraged friendship between the nuns, believing it to be an important part of maintaining the community. In her eyes, friendship and support could only be a help on the path to salvation. But even so, with the tight schedules, the many tasks to be done and the vow of silence, expressing affection and finding time alone was difficult.

And yet, the two of them had found ways. There had usually been enough time for small conversations during visits to the garden or the hospital and while Louise had once gotten an admonishment for spending a bit too much time there, as long as they didn’t do it excessively no one minded. Both of them had been good at their trades after all. Sitting together in the refectory or in the church during the times devoted to prayer had also provided, in its own way, an intimate experience.

And sometimes, on the holidays when nuns were allowed a bit more freedom to spend time with friends, or when they had both managed to find excuses to stay out late for either of their jobs, they’d managed to find some extra time to spend together.

Of course they had never used their nightly visits for sin. She and Magdalena weren’t like the Cathars of old with their orgies or the mohammedans with their harems. Or like the prostitute that a seven-year-old Louise had seen burning in the city square for sodomy. They had never lusted after each other in such a way. Their love was a pure, spiritual one, where each cherished the other deeply without any base desires.

If Louise sometimes had less than chaste thoughts about her love, she knew that was just the devil trying to trick her

But now all of that had ended. Her dearest had gone south with the relic and the treasures, leaving her here, alone. It hadn’t been Magdalena’s desire of course, Louise couldn’t blame her. She had asked the abbess to be allowed to remain behind, reasoning that the hospital needed tending now more than ever and that she couldn’t bear to leave her home. The abbess had merely replied that while the separation would be hard, it was just a trial God would see her through. Louise hadn’t argued for Magdalena to stay, to avoid accusations of being too attached.

Officially it was supposed to be a temporary separation of course. The relics and treasures and the sisters who’d gone with were supposed to return when the situation had calmed down again. Or if worst came to worst the rest of the convent would go and join them.

But Louise couldn’t help but fear. These were uncertain times, with violence seeming to brew in every city and with preachers fulminating against the church everywhere. It was as if the times of the Roman emperors of old had returned. In such times, it was hard not to fear that a separation would end up being permanent. That she’d never see Magdalena again.

It was romantic, in a way. At night Louise sometimes thought back to the romances she’d read in her youth, the stories of knights burning with love for their lady even if she was far away and out of their reach. Magdalena was in a sense her own knight, forced to go far away on a quest while Louise stayed behind at the castle, anxiously awaiting her return.

In some ways it was a comforting idea. After all, the knight usually returned back to the castle in triumph, reuniting with the lady in a display of chaste love. But would they have such a reunion? Even if she came back, would Magdalena still love her after the long time away from each other?

Louise’s affection for her sister was undiminished, and Magdalena had reassured her before the group’s departure that her own feelings wouldn’t change either. But without the other woman around to reassure Louise of the fact… it was hard not to doubt in her darkest moments, especially with the already anxious atmosphere in the monastery.

She had tried to find ways to distract herself. She spent more time in the herb garden than ever before. It was to be hoped the other nuns didn’t mind having a lot of basil in their food, because this would be one of the largest harvests yet. At the very least the excess could be sold at the market, an unexpected upside of her worried gardening.

Louise had also started to pray more often, regularly staying in church past the midnight mass until the bell to get up sounded. In the past she had valued her sleep too much to not go back to bed. Instead she now prayed and prayed and prayed. Sometimes she prayed for Magdalena’s safe journey and for her love to remain. Other time she deliberately avoided thinking about her beloved. Instead she prayed for all kinds of things: for her parents’ souls, for the herbs in the garden to grow well, for Walburga’s gout, for sister Isabella to get her snoring under control.

Occasionally it worked and Louise ended her prayers feeling more at peace. But often she left the church just as anxious as before, the prayers having devolved into worrying. And occasionally, when she imagined the Virgin, she couldn’t help imagining Magdalena’s features instead.

With her mind filled with such ruminations, Louise’s mood deflated as she made her way through the monastery’s halls. The string of worries was only interrupted in front of the garden door when she heard someone calling for her.

“Sister Louise!”

She turned around to see sister Isabella hurrying towards her, at a pace that, outside the current circumstances, would probably have gotten her a reprimand. The other nun was waving about a piece of paper, smiling.

“At the market we were given some letters for the abbey. There was one for you too.”

Louise raised an eyebrow. She had no family outside the abbey, so who could have a message for her? A small voice in her mind piped up that there was at least one person who could have written to her, but she quickly squashed that voice down to avoid any undue hope.

“Oh! Well, thank you sister Isabella.”

Isabella waved her goodbye but Louise hardly registered it, already opening the letter with slightly shaking hands. At the top of the paper was written, in very familiar handwriting:

“My dearest Louise”

Louise couldn’t help the broad smile that came on her face.