Page 3 of The Conquering of Tate the Pious
She waited as she and Leofgifu and Judith—a sister who had a demon which tormented her with a terror of leaving the abbey walls—tended to their eldest sisters and the two remaining pilgrims.And before she’d allow herself even thehopethat they might make it through the night without the Normans reaching their gates, she took the twisting path out of the valley and up the hills and then searched the dark horizon.
And there she waited too.
Sutreworde still burned, judging from the red-orange glow on the horizon, but Tate could make out nothing else.No torches, no dark shadows resolving themselves into riders on the road.People talked about the Wolf as if he were magic, a demon, something more than human, but Tate was too practical for all that.She knew that he had to move and attack as a normal man would.
Mother Ardith, too, had scoffed whenever she heard people spinning each other into a panic about the Wolf’s uncanny ability to strike villages and churches unawares.
As if being Norman weren’t bad enough, she’d said.He doesn’t need to be magic if he’s clever, and he doesn’t need to be a demon if he’s greedy. Ordinary human evil will do the rest.
Tate tended to agree.People would be surprised at the evil ordinary people were capable of, even people who seemed normal and good and innocent.There didn’t need to be a supernatural reason for violence.Or murder.
Tate knew that truth intimately, thoroughly.She traced its shape at night with her thoughts; it covered her face like a shroud while she slept.
It crouched over her constantly, the lid to a coffin only she could see.
The good news was that Far Hope was safe from demons and ordinary men alike, hidden in its valley as it was.Steep hills sheltered it on three sides, and the way into the abbey was shielded with high walls and a thick wooden gate.The abbey had a good spring and plenty of provisions, and for those reasons, Tate could hold Far Hope for a while, at least.The Normans would have to get through the gate, which would take time to arrange, and they’d need tunnels to breach the walls, which would take time to dig.
There was the private way down to the back of the abbey from the moors, of course, but it was hidden with rocks and heather, and too steep for horses or anyone carrying heavy weapons—or wearing mail shirts.Even if the Normans did find it, they’d have to tether their horses, strip off their weapons and armor, and make their way down one by one.Hardly the way to keep speed and surprise on their side.
What Tate would do before the Normans breached the walls or starved them out, she didn’t know.She supposed she would try to negotiate, or maybe she could pay them off with the few treasures that weren’t currently trundling their way to her childhood home.But damn it all, she’d been trusted with Far Hope, however mistakenly, and she would defend it with everything she had.
Tate went back down to the dormitory, thinking of the last conversation she had with her mentor before the old abbess had died.
It can’t be me,she’d whispered to Mother Ardith as her abbess lay dying on a pallet stuffed with dried herbs and flowers to freshen the room.It can’t be me.
Daughter, whyever not?
You know why. You know what I’ve done. I’m here for penance, nothing more.
A wet, wheezing laugh.If you don’t think leadership is penance, then you have much still to learn.
And now Tate could see what Mother Ardith meant.It was up to Tate to keep the abbey and the people inside it safe by any means possible.No matter the cost.
And with the Wolf practically at her door, she had to consider that any cost might be necessary.
There’d been no sign of the Normans long after the world had gone dark, and so Tate had allowed herself a few hours of sleep before matins.The sleep was fitful, fretful, and filled with half-dreams of the Wolf.A giant man, she was sure, on account of the Viking blood in his veins.And he looked like a monster, that was certain.He couldn’t look otherwise with the tales they told about him.
In her dreams, she saw every village he’d slaughtered, every house he’d burned.Every drop of blood dripping from the edge of the axe they said he favored.And when she woke up, blinking in the dark, her breath lodged in her chest like it was stuck there with glue, she knew he was here.
She justknew.
She rolled off her pallet and slipped into her soft leather shoes, and then crept out of her cell.Their dormitory was made of only a few rooms, and typically she shared her cell with Wynflaed and four other sisters, but they were gone now, and so she didn’t worry about waking anyone as she slung her mantle over her shoulders and stepped into the chilly night.
The stars glittered overhead, but she barely noticed because there were dozens of tiny suns burning outside the wall guarding the abbey from the rest of the valley.They disappeared from view as she drew closer to the wall, but she found the chink between the gate and the stone and then caught her breath.
Yes, those were torches and fires.Close enough that she could see the small, pale hillocks of the tents, but far enough away that she couldn’t count the men or the horses.They must have come quietly.Silently.She would have thought that impossible for any band of soldiers, much less ones known for rapaciousness and marauding.
“I didn’t hear them at first,” Leofgifu said quietly from next to her.
Tate didn’t turn.“Nor I.”
“Why have they made camp?”Leofgifu asked.“Surely it would have been better to catch us unawares.”
“Maybe they didn’t know about our wall and wanted to wait until daytime to search for its weaknesses.Or maybe they were tired from a long day of looting, and they know we’re not exactly going to fortify ourselves while they rest.”Tate closed her eyes and tried to think how Mother Ardith would think.The trouble was that her own thoughts—her ownfeelings, the ones she’d come to Far Hope to escape—were soloud.She was furious, hopeless, terrified.She wanted to scream, to cry, to fight.
God help her, she even wanted to run.
“At least we know they’re here now,” observed Leofgifu.“They can’t surprise us.”
