Historical Setting: Monkwearmouth, 794 C.E.
It’s been nearly all night that we’ve sat here in the quiet darkness, except for the gentle sounds of a horse waiting for his master to return and our few words. I asked her to imagine a wishful story. She has an imagination and she has words that could tell fantastic stories. Were she literate, she could write her way through all the years of this grief.
It isn’t dawn yet, but we hear people talking, approaching outside. I step out and here is a man and two women crossing the meadow toward the shed, coming down from the convent of St. Peter. The young girl hears them outside and hides as best she can, not being a mouse that can fit between the boards. She is crouched at the end of the bench with her cowl pulled over her head hiding her face.
Now they are here.
“Hello. We’re seeking shelter here until tide ebbs so we can cross at the sandbar.”
The three of them crowd into our midst — two nuns, and a villager with them who is holding up a lantern so we can all see the young woman huddled and silent as though she is hidden. Once I saw a kit in a wood, thinking he was hiding from me, but only his eyes were hidden. The rest of him was clearly exposed, sticking out from the side of the tree that shielded his eyes. And though her hiding is imaginary, no one acknowledges her.
“Is something happening at Jarrow, today?” I ask them.
“It is possible.” says the man. “My brother’s wife may need a midwife this very day.”
“What a wonderful blessing for your family!”
The man doesn’t answer. A nun answers for him.
“There is a fear. This mother had a beautiful little girl a while back, but the mother is sickly and then that infant failed to thrive. We told this family then, and we tell them now, they must borrow a fresh cow if any baby can survive at all.”
The man argues, “These nuns think every family is rich and all the neighbors have fancy farms and cows just for the lending.”
The nun adds, “We aren’t talking about great wealth. We only insist that you borrow a fresh cow that has recently born a calf. Even a poor family can surely take on that little responsibility.”
So, here we are audience for a continuing argument.
(Continues Tuesday, February 3, 2026)
Lazarus Ink 