Stromness Dragon

Olivia shivered and watched her breath plume from her mouth. The candles glinting off the damp stone gave a yellow glow but did nothing to raise the temperature, which she estimated to be just above freezing – there had been a thin skim of ice on the well this morning. The nuns were white-faced and motionless except for the slight movement of their lips as the words of the service were spoken sotto voce. Lauds was not the first religious office of the day – the nuns and novices had celebrated Matins at 2.00am – but it was the first one that Olivia could usually manage, starting as it did at daybreak.

She pulled her woollen cloak more tightly around her and tried to think holy thoughts. Images of hot buttered toast rose unbidden in her mind and her stomach grumbled. The dark-habited figure next to her shifted from one knee to another. Minutes stretched to hours. She knew that as a non-religious she was under no compulsion to attend services, but Olivia was brought up to be at least polite to her hosts, even if those hosts had no choice in the matter. She went to Lauds, usually, missed Prime as that was the best time to clean the latrines, and tried to get to either Vespers or Compline in the evenings, although her domestic duties took precedence. This morning she would have to sift and divide up a sack of flour which had been delivered yesterday – even a cursory glance had shown the tell-tale black specks which indicated weevils. If she slipped away now, she could have most of it done by the time the novices came in to break their fast. Slowly she rose to her feet and slid from the pew, head down.

There was the dimmest glimmer of cold dawn in the cloister. The rooks started to shift in their nests and small twigs fell to earth as they shook their sooty wings. Olivia had learned quickly the art of moving without noise – as a child she had been fascinated by the ‘floating’ nuns she saw on the street, now here she was doing the same thing – and walked swiftly and silently to the kitchen. As she rounded the doorframe, a black figure flew into her stomach, winding her.

‘Oh!’ Olivia caught the doorframe for support, blocking the path of the flying figure, whom she now recognised as one of the novices, Sara. The girl looked up at her and brought both hands up to her mouth. Her eyes darted from Olivia’s face to the corridor and back, flashing fear. Olivia steadied herself and Sara straightened herself, turning her head away.

‘Sara – are you alright?’ Olivia said.

‘I’m fine,’ Sara said but it sounded muffled. She tried to push past Olivia, who placed her hands on Sara’s shoulders and turned her round to face her. She could see at once that the novice’s mouth was full of something dark, although she was trying desperately to swallow.

‘What are you eating, Sara?’ she asked, peering.

‘Nothing, just some bread…I …oh, Miss, I am so hungry!’  The small figure trembled.  ’I didn’t mean to steal, I just thought if I could…I was going to replace them…’ and she leant her forehead against the doorframe and wept, her shoulders shaking underneath the brown habit. From her fingers fell a handful of black, sticky currants.

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