The bishop was quiet for a while, and then he asked, “And he has made you question a life in a priory?”
“Aye, Father.”
He sighed, either with frustration or acceptance. He was difficult to read.
“What should I do?”
He shrugged, stretching his dark blue robes across his chest. “I cannot tell you what to do. I can only tell you that a sister is something you shouldwantto be. You can still serve the Lord either way.”
She nodded and smiled. She believed it to be true.
“Seek His guidance,” he told her, finally smiling back. “You will find it.”
“May I ask,” she began and continued when he did not refuse, “what will happen to my uncle if I do not speak them? How will he be affected?”
“Silene,” he said on a whisper, “you cannot speak these vows to God for any other reason than that you wish to dedicate your entire life to Him. If you say them to appease your uncle…” he shook his head instead of continuing. “You are better off not speaking them. Do you understand?”
She nodded. “Are you advising me to—”
“I’m advising you to seek the truth about your heart. If you are in love with a man who makes you question—”
“Father, I have two days to decide.”
He smiled at her with understanding. “I was once given moments to decide if I should side with the Scot’s king, who had been thrown into prison, or England’s king, who ruled more territories day after day.”
“How did you decide?” she asked.
“I let God lead me. My path came in the form of a soft breeze from the north.”
“A soft breeze?”
He nodded. “Aye, child. Sometimes, we just need to listen.”
He left her to pray, which she did for the entire day. She didn’t leave her chambers save to visit the garderobe, or open the door for her food, of which she ate little.
She didn’t hear the captain outside her door, poised to knock three separate times, or hear his footsteps when he walked away. Nor did she receive the answers she was looking for.
She was almost fully certain of her decision, which she’d made on her own when the morning of the second day came. She dressed in her habit, with her wimple and veil. She was ready when Louise came to get her. She saw Matilda so happy for her that Silene had to keep her thoughts away from her uncle and his wife. They were part of the group to have her say her vows now. They had to secure her place so that John’s place in the church could be solidified. It had nothing to do with God.
She didn’t see Galeren in the great hall for breakfast. Now that she hadn’t seen him for a full day, she missed him. Neither Will nor Morgann had seen him. She tried to sit with them, but they were called away.
It was better this way, she told herself while she ate alone.
As long as she obeyed, she was sure John wouldn’t force his dear friend to marry Cecilia Birchet.
Everything would be well. She would go on with her life as planned, but where would she go? If her feeling was correct, not to St. Patrice’s.
Would she stay here? Forced to be with the captain every day? Would she somehow die? She made the sign of the cross and didn’t realize she had until Father Nate and Bishop Graham slipped into the bench beside her and asked if she was well.
She smiled but she felt anything but well, or in the mood to confess why. Rather than lie and tell them she was fine, she rose from her place. “If you would both excuse me, I would like to go pray.”
They excused her with bows. She wanted to run, but it would be unseemly. Still, she lifted her skirts above her ankles and hurried out of the hall.
She was suffocating and pulled off her veil to get to her wimple and pulled that off next.
Quickening her pace, she turned one corner on the way to her chambers and crashed into a wall.
A living, breathing wall, with strong arms that came around her to hold her steady.