Lilah Read Free

bone-weary and my legs were ready to
give way beneath me. Tears filled my eyes.  The thought of Arianne’s
sadness was nearly as bad as my own.
    I sat with closed eyes at the end of Claude’s
bed and listened to Arianne fuss with his sheets. Then she startled me by
kissing my cheek. ‘You are indeed an angel in human form,’ she said. ‘What I
wouldn’t do to have your gift.’
    Claude was sleeping and very much alive. His
rasping breath was gone and he was healed. I put my ear close to his mouth so I
could feel his breath.
    We left Claude
sleeping and as I turned to go I thought I heard him say thank you. But
his chest had the steady rhythm of sleep.
    I would like to say that this act of healing
humans would be my first and last, and only the right of God to perform at
will. But it wasn’t.
    After Claude other curings were conducted
secretly in the dead of night. Only Arianne had unlimited access to the
infirmary, which allowed for our forbidden deeds. It became an obsession for
both of us – to beat the illness before it wasted the child.
    We cured two children in one night and a week
later healed a nine-year old gypsy girl with rotting flesh disease. The sisters
had been expecting her to die before the end of the week and had taken her in
to make her last days comfortable and warm. When she skipped into the meals
room at breakfast the next day one sister was said to have thrown herself on
the ground and given praise. Others were pleased but more skeptical. Some
believed the girl had put on her illness – creating wounds to her own
flesh with hot irons – to be fed in the monastery. I was sad to hear that
the abbess had told the girl to leave the following day. Arianne had argued
with her senior only to be sent to prayer for several days and reflect on her
outburst. But not before she had wrapped up large pieces of cheese and half a
loaf of bread in a shawl of her own and passed these to the girl at the back
entrance.
    Sister Gertrude said, at an assembly in the
chapel, that miracles were happening: that our Heavenly Father was indeed
watching them. From the pews, I had stolen a look at Arianne who had her head
bent in secret smile and when she winked at me I had to suppress a giggle.
Gertrude looked directly at me then, just as quickly, turned elsewhere drawing
the attention away from us. Something about that look had tightened my chest
but noting Arianne’s beaming profile, her head titled towards the heavens, such
feelings of dread dissipated.
    Over time, the healing of the sick caused
another problem. Word was spreading that such events were taking place. It drew
attention to our establishment and a steady flow of people came bringing poorly
loved ones; believing that the air within the monastery was so pure it would
restore their good health. Once, we discovered a simple-minded boy inside the
chapel who knew neither his name nor address. He had been left behind in the
hopes that he could be healed. Try as I did afflictions of the mind could not
be cured. Eventually though, a whole wing would be dedicated to such cases and
a local surgeon, recently retired from his royal duties, volunteered his time.
    The place was full and sometimes people were
turned away. And many who were healed had to be put back on the streets
immediately. It was difficult to see people leave and know that some may not be
heading into happy futures even though their bellies were temporarily full.
    As I have suggested, it was indeed an
obsession. As well as the children, we sometimes cured beggars on the street.
Arianne always made excuses why I was to travel with her on errands. Those
lying in the cold – some nearly frozen to death – were moved to
warmer places and we placed healing into their bodies so that they would last
the winter. I say ‘we’ when I refer to healing as it was a team effort and without
Arianne I would not have been so bold.
    There was a downside to our cause as I began to
dread curing during the day,