The Fickle Winds of Autumn

The dark carriage rattled hard through the morning as it picked up speed on the tracks away from the convent. Kira’s insides protested vigorously about its unruly motions, and her classmates also argued with their chaperone about the ill-effects of the journey.

“But Sister, please, I don’t feel well,” said Hettie.

“Yes, Sister, we really must stop,” echoed Sara.

Next to Kira, Meg bent over double with her arms wrapped around her abdomen.

“I can feel my tummy tying itself into knots,” she said in a low groan.

But the heavy queasy stirrings deep within her own stomach left Kira in no doubt that she must have been far sicker than any of the others; cramped into an uncomfortable corner of the bouncing, juddering vehicle; every stone or hole on the journey seemed to jerk her confused insides to some new depths of despair. She was glad she had missed breakfast, for she felt certain she could never have held it down under these trying conditions.

“Travel sickness is all part of the Great Surrounder’s good plan for us.” Sister Maud informed them in a hollow, unfeeling tone. “It is His way of ensuring that nobody ever strays too far from their rightful place.”

Long experience had taught Kira that complaining would be to no avail, so she suffered in an acutely disagreeable nauseous silence, and tried to console herself with the knowledge that this disturbing, unpleasant sensation was all somehow good for her and a valuable character-forming lesson on her station in life.

She held her agitated stomach tightly with both hands, hoping to secure it in one place; she forced her mouth to close and breathed steadily and deeply through her nose, in an effort to keep her wilful intestines from escaping; she bit down on her lips, to stop herself from retching, determined not to give Sister Maud, or the other girls, the satisfaction of seeing how ill she really was - and certainly they all stopped groaning and fussing about it and began to chatter amongst themselves, long before Kira’s tense digestive system had grown accustomed to its new surroundings and had time to catch up to the rest of her body.

A small meshed opening in the carriage door was securely covered by a heavy black curtain. It was not much bigger than the Sacristy window of the convent chapel, and through the testing stabs of her nausea, Kira noticed Sister Maud’s fingers twitching towards it. She pulled lightly at the thick drape, as if by accident, exposing some of the fine screening grill-work behind it, and then allowed her eyes to flicker toward the shallow morning light that crept its way into the sombre carriage.

But hadn’t Sister Amelia Constance explicitly warned them not to look out at such profane seductions?

Hadn’t she lectured them these last few days, in her sternest, darkest tones, never to stare at the wicked corrupting vanities of the outside world?

How could Sister Maud place herself in such mortal jeopardy?

What would possess her to risk such a thing?

And how could it be fair for the Sister to do this, when Kira and her classmates were strictly forbidden from such activity?

Kira felt the uneasy prickle of her troubled conscience. She had learned all about the iniquitous lure of the outside world and its empty vanities, and knew how wrong it would be for her to look out of the window as Sister Maud was doing; but she had never realised until now just how strong the enticing pull of its temptation could be, and how difficult it was to resist.

She was nearest to the grill, sitting opposite the worthy Sister, so it would be all too easy for her to succumb to such corrosive vice.

But she would not yield to its dangerous allure. She was determined to preserve the purity of her uncorrupted sanity, as Sister Amelia had urged.

And yet, try as she might, her inquisitive eyes kept refusing to do as they were instructed; and several times she felt them blink towards the narrow opening.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

She looked away and began to recite memorised verses from the Great Scriptures, and from the Venerated Opus itself, in order to distract her mind and keep it wholesome.

If only she had paid more attention in lessons - or if the lessons themselves had not been so dull - she might have been able to remember more of these sacred words and cling on to her unsullied soul for longer.

She tried to think instead about all the exacting reprimands doled out to her by the austere presence of Sister Amelia Constance - but these were so plentiful it was difficult to focus on one specific speech or occasion - so she found that despite her earnest intentions, her mind and eyes insisted on following their own path and straying over towards the grill.

And anyway, surely just one little peek wouldn’t hurt?

What harm could it possibly do?

And no-one need ever know.

And Sister Maud seemed completely unharmed by it all.

And after all, this was her chance to finally see the world she had longed for, a world she had only been able to imagine during the long slow days confined to the monotonous convent life while endlessly dreaming of adventure.

And it would almost certainly help to take her mind off her uneasy stomach.

And Amber was relying on her - she would be waiting for a full report when she got back to the convent.

It was almost as if she really had an obligation to purposefully look, rather than waste this opportunity and disappoint her friend.

Kira glanced around the carriage surreptitiously. The other girls were all too busy obediently looking down at the floor whilst chatting to each other to bother with her; and Sister Maud was far too interested in gazing out through the opening for herself to notice any indiscretion on Kira’s part.

So, from the safety of her lonely corner of the carriage, Kira timidly dared to allow her eyes to wander over towards the aperture.

The low, early light was bright, but not painful - although Kira was fully prepared to endure some slight suffering if it meant she could examine the sounds and sights and the strangeness of the outer world for herself.

From the angle of her gaze, the lush mellow greens of the Autumn woods flashed across her enchanted eyes; how strange and unnerving to finally look upon a real tree, rather than a picture, a tiny unfeeling image trapped between the pages of a manuscript. How wondrous. Her keen nose seemed to smell the scent of their leaves as they hovered, sometimes undecided, in tones of yellow and red; the passionate vibrancy of their colours reverberated through her marvelled mind, more brilliant and full of astonishment than the deepest reckoning of her imagination.

The verdant textured shadows of the undergrowth; the occasional bright blinks of openness through the canopy of branches, where a dazzling pink sun had risen and blushed itself across the pale sky, bathing the world in a benign soft warmth.

It was all so fantastic and curious; so joyful and overwhelming.

More vivid than the flat tones of the Illustrated scrolls; more alive even than the colours of the Great Stained Window where the cleansing light of the high moons filtered down upon the yeartide congregations.

And despite Sister Amelia’s most dire warnings, Kira could sense no threats. From the safety of the rumbling carriage, the world seemed far more pleasant and interesting than the blank imposing walls of the convent - far more instructional even. It was almost as if the good Sister Prima had somehow been mistaken in her insistence on the absolute wickedness of the world and her uncompromising condemnation of its vile iniquity.

Kira had never dared to believe that she would actually be allowed to experience such wonders for herself; and feared that she would be forced to live out her days with only the sparks of her imagination to dine on: but there it all was before her stunned senses - the true, real world - a world without walls and candle-light; without rules and bell-times and nuns; the fires of her imagination blazed bright and rejoiced at these new and unending possibilities.

Her greedy eyes pulled her ever forward out of her seat; so that at times, she found that she had ended up leaning closer to the window to drink in a better view, and had to force herself back into the firmness of the bench, in order to avoid the detection of her waywardness.

“Sister Maud, we’re hungry; is it time to eat yet?” asked Hettie.

The sudden unexpectedness of the voice snapped Kira back into the gloomy reality of the carriage interior, away from the comforting warmth of her daydreams.

The other girls had evidently recovered from their motion sickness, and Kira too, found that her apprehensive stomach had adapted to its new environment and was now regretting its missed breakfast.

“Yes girls,” said the good Sister, dragging her eyes briefly away from the window, “you may eat now.”

The other novicellae reached for their satchels and opened up the carefully prepared parcels of food.

As they unwrapped the white linen cloths, the confined air of the carriage began to fill with a variety of delicious aromas: fresh bread slices; sweet, dark jam that Sister Eunice had made; warm pasties and herbs and cheese; and most tantalisingly of all - the scent of honey pikelets.

Kira’s heart twisted and sank in regretful disappointment, when she realised that in her haste to exit the convent, she had forgotten to pick up her satchel and its picnic lunch.

She eyed the other girls enviously, and hoped that one of them might notice her plight and take pity on her. Her stomach grumbled its angry resentment as she suffered the torment of watching and hearing and smelling her classmates enjoy their food.

The rumbling carriage could not disguise the tempting crunch of Sister Iona’s much-loved biscuits, or the rich delight of the savoury aroma of the slices of glazed meat pie.

Meg complained that she was still feeling the ill effects of motion sickness and didn’t want her lunch. She passed it to her friends, who devoured it with relish, ensuring that none of the spare food found its way to Kira.

Kira’s disappointed stomach growled out its gurgling frustration louder than the rumbling wheels of the rolling carriage.

She felt the prickling warmth flood to her cheeks as the others turned to stare at her.

“That will teach you the virtues of remembrance and preparedness,” said Sister Maud, in a righteous tone which lacked any trace of actual sympathy.

But this lack of sharing or friendship came as no surprise to Kira - she had never been one of the popular girls and knew that her only friend was Amber.

She no longer resented her position, but still often wished to join in, on occasion, with her fellow classmates.

Although strictly forbidden by the nuns, the other girls would sometimes gather together after the candles had been snuffed out to share smuggled sweets and giggle at the prospect of becoming an old shrivelled nun with drooping grey hair and a moustache, like Sister Agnes; while the more daring and adventurous among them would discuss what they remembered of their life outside the convent walls before they had joined the Order - and some, even more daringly, whispered of boys.

How she had longed to join in with these thrilling talks, rather than listen mutely from the timid shadows of the dormitory, as the popular girls, many of whom were late-joiners and still retained vivid memories of the outside world, spun their tales over and over to their enthralled midnight audience.

But Kira was a lifer, abandoned there as an infant, and had no knowledge or stories to tell. Her imagination was potent - at times, extraordinarily so - but that was no substitute for real experience; and she wasn’t even quite sure what a boy was.

She had quickly come to understand that her wistful longing could never change reality, and her heart whispered to her that she would never be accepted as one of these leading lights: she would never be as pretty as Sara, or as clever as Hettie, nor would her boots ever be as shiny as Meg’s.

She looked down in disappointment at her own scruffy, ill-fitted footwear. How did the other girls manage to keep their boots so bright and clean? They only came up past her ankles, but there always seemed to be so much leather to polish, and so much dirt stuck to them.

How magical and almost incomprehensible those tales of life beyond the convent walls had seemed - and yet here she was, actually seeing it with her own thrilled eyes and hearing it with her excited ears.

The woodland thinned out into fields and farmland, with small houses dotted at intervals along the green rolling dales, and ripe yellow acres of harvest grain, and a distant smell of wood smoke drifting and mingling with the fresh earth and the lazy autumn air.

It was an easy and pleasant way to view the openness of the great outer world; locked up safely inside the close confines of the darkened vehicle - far less confusing than standing out in it, beneath the towering sky - and Kira found her eyes and mind had adapted to the newness of its rhythms much quicker than she had first expected.

The carriage drew them on, its window framing the brightening, changing landscapes.

A steep incline slowed them.

The pull of her own weight forced Kira back into her seat, until they emerged from a thicket of trees at the top of a large high hill, and the horses paused for a well-deserved rest.

A wide, undulating valley opened out a huge patchworked vista before them of emerald and flaxen-brown fields, hemmed by billowing hillsides; so wide and beautiful that the tiny window could not fit it all in. The dizzying wonder of the far horizons; a disquieting loss of balance and self. The Chronicles had spoken of His glorious world, and now Kira could begin appreciate for herself just what this might truly mean.

They were so high up and surrounded by so much light and openness; perhaps they would even fall off the ground and drift away upwards into the greatness of His eternal sky?

In the stifling silence, Sister Maud leant forward into the centre of the carriage. Her hushed, serious tones brought Kira back to its dark interior.

“Girls, now that we are away from the convent, the need for secrecy is over, and I can finally tell you where it is we are going, and what this journey is all about….”