Dave's Anatomy: My History as a Writer, #127: A Not-So-Good Story of a Not-So-Good Situation: The Third Nun's Tale

Commedian Johnny Carson, who hosted the Tonight Show for over twenty years, once gave some advice on how to respond when a proud parent introduces you to their ugly baby. You say, “Wow, that sure is a baby, isn’t it?” I’ve got a story like that, the one I’m going to discuss in this post, and the only thing I can say of it is, “Wow, that sure is a story, isn’t it?” The tale to which I refer is called “The Third Nun’s Tale.” Maybe my estimation of it is a little too harsh, since it was published in Separate Worlds, a now-defunct Canadian journal that took a couple of my stories a while back. "The Third Nun's Tale" had to have had some merit, I guess, for a journal to print it. But reading it now, I have to admit it was not one of my best efforts; and it underscores the old lesson that not everything you write is going to be stellar.

Geoffrey Chaucer

“The Third Nun’s Tale” drew on my knowledge of the poet Geoffrey Chaucer. I have taught his Canterbury Tales many times. It is a series of stories of every sort told by a group of medieval people who are making a pilgrimage to the shrine of a saint. The tales are all about love—but love means different things to different people. A knight making the pilgrimage sees love in terms of chivalry. Some—a Miller, a Foreman, and other assorted rogues—tell dirty jokes, since love consists of getting laid. There are some nuns on the trip, and two of them tell stories suggesting that love consists of devotion to God, remaining a virgin, and living a life of chastity and self-denial. These are “The Prioress’s Tale,” and “The Second Nun’s Tale.” That gave me an idea. What if there was a nun who did not believe this, was not a virgin, and had been sexually exploited? What if her idea of love was different? Thus it was that I began to write “The Third Nun’s Tale.”

The Prioress

Griselda (also called Sister Lydia), is travelling with Madame Eglantine, her Prioress, and Rosemary, another nun. Eglantine is the name Chaucer gives the Prioress in his story; Rosemary is the name I gave the Second Nun. Griselda notes that on the way over Rosemary had argued with one of the other pilgrims (the Franklin), who said that if everyone lived in virginity the human race would cease to exist, since no one would have children. As Rosemary is waxing eloquent on the details of the debate she says she told the Franklin, “To lose virginity is to lose the key to Heaven.” This makes Griselda shudder. Even though she has take the three-fold vow of poverty, chastity, and obedience, she lost her virginity. And two men—both monks who discovered her secret—use her to fulfill their lusts and threaten to expose her lying about her purity if she accuses them.

As a girl, she began a sexual relationship with a young man named Joel. He and his family were secret Jews. Once after they had made love, she was discovered by a group of men who decided to do their will upon her. A monk is with them, and as he readies her for her ordeal, he notices semen running down her leg. He does not let the other men molest her, but makes her his own mistress.

Griselda/Sister Lydia

Later, a preacher comes to her church. His hellfire sermon frightens her into taking religious vows. She becomes a nun, lying about her disqualification. Marius, the monk, of course, knows this and regularly visits her, blackmailing her with the threat that he will expose her and have her burned at the stake. She reflects on this:  Griselda knew her whole life would be this way. Marius would exploit her and tell his friends about her. She would serve as their whore for the rest of her time in the convent—the rest of her life until he got tired of her and had her killed or until she got pregnant. If she got pregnant, they would let her bear the child and then burn her. Anger and frustration turned to sorrow.

Then she sees Joel, who tells her Marius plans to get rid of her by selling her to a brothel. He has arranged for two men to kidnap her. Joel instructs her not to resist them. He will rescue her. Sure to his word, she is kidnapped. Her abductors (who are very much like the Pardoner and the Summoner in Chaucer’s poem) take her to a tavern and tell her they plan to transport her to London and sell her there. Joel appears at that time and offers to buy her for more money than her kidnappers will receive selling her in London. He gives them gold and tells them where they will find more of it.

The story ends with Joel and Griselda living in Damascus, which welcomes Jews and Christians. They learn, later, that the two men who kidnapped her were both killed in retrieving the pile of gold Joel had informed them about. Joel and Griselda put down roots. Griselda sometimes longs for the snow and cold of England, wonders what happened to the Prioress and Rosemary—and wonders if their tales will ever be told.

The story referred to a lot of Chaucer:  “The Prioress’s Tale,” “The Second Nuns Tale,” “The Pardoner’s Tale” are all referenced in it. Several Chaucerian characters were named as well. It was a guy who taught medieval literature’s idea of a good time.

“The Third Nun’s Tale” was printed in Separate Worlds, which has closed, as many online journals have. Better, maybe, just to let that story rest.

Much better is my latest novella, The Court of the Sovereign King.  Purchase a copy of it here.

I would love to hear your comments. 

Dave’s Anatomy: My History as a Writer #125: Goddess Needed: “The Spirit of the Forest Cold"

Sword and Sorcery is the mainstay of fantasy writers. Tolkien set the standard with the Lord of the Rings trilogy and everyone follows suit, me no less than anyone else. I’ve written a few in the genre that reaches back into the middle ages and utilizes elements from that time, enhancing, adding to them, transforming them imaginatively.

“The Spirit of the Forest Cold” found its inspiration in a poem by the late Irish writer Seamus Heaney. The poem, called “Punishment,” focuses on the body of a young woman that was found in a peat bog in Germany. She had been hanged (or strangled); her body, weighted down with stones, had been thrown into the bog. Chemicals in such places often preserve the human body; several such bodies from the early Iron Age have been recovered in this way. The manner in which the young woman died suggests she had committed a crime that was considered heinous and, thus, was executed and denied a proper burial (Heaney suggests adultery). He relates her fate to the abuse and mistreatment of women in his own nation, who were stripped naked, had their heads shaved, and then were then handcuffed to bridges for the “crime” of associating with British soldiers.

Artist's reconstruction of bog girl's face.

The poem got me thinking of the unnamed woman whose body was found. What did she do? The corpse was of a very young woman, slender, probably from lack of food. Did she exchange sex for food? Why was she killed? I began a story that centers around a family. The reader sees them talking about the upcoming execution. The girl is being starved, kept in a cage, and the children of the town take great delight in tormenting her. One of the things they do is bring bread, tease her with it, and eat it in front of her. One boy in the village, Rolf, feels sorry from her, gives her his morning portion, and speaks kindly to her. After she is killed, he mourns for her. She appears to him in a dream and thanks him for his kindness.

Later, during a long, snowy winter, when food runs out, people claim to see the girl walking in woods. The elders of the village consider finding her body in the bog, removing it, and giving her a decent burial. One day Rolf meets the girl, Mathilda. She tells him, “The faerie folk revived my soul. They can do that for those who have died unjustly.” Furthermore, she tells him the elves have made her into a goddess Rolf has heard of:  The Spirit of the Forest Cold. And, eventually, she sends him on a quest.

She sends him to find Bertina, the woman who revealed Mathilda’s adultery so she was killed; and

Steroa

also to rescue Steora, a young warrior woman from Rolf’s village with whom he has fallen in love (and become intimate). Both are with the Franks, the enemies of the Saxons. Bertina has deserted to their side and accepted their religion. Steora was taken captive but has escaped, is on the loose, and the Franks are searching for her. Rolf makes a journey into Frankish territory.

He finds both Bertina (who has become a Christian nun) and Steora and manages to return them to the village just before an attack by the Franks descends upon it. The battle goes in favor of the Saxons, the Franks are repulsed. Rolf is recognized as a hero.

But he has lost Steora to a leader of his people. They are already married. Matilda appears and confronts Bertina, who repents of what she has done. Matilda says there is no more reason for anger and gives Bertina permission to marry Derik, the man over whom they had fought. Rolf is heartbroken by the loss of Steora but is made to remember there is another woman who loves him. Mathilda takes him into her home with the design of marrying him. The gods, she tells him, can be a bit stingy with granting immortality, but they admire him for keeping to the old faith and extol his bravery in battle. She thinks the request will be approved.

A few days later, the villagers find the body of Matilda, the rope still around her neck, in a bog a short distance from the place where they threw her in. Rolf asks her (in her goddess form) about this and she tells him that part of her spirit had detached itself and was the ghost people saw roaming the woods. Now, she says, that part of her can at last rest. The villagers bury her body in the ancestral burial ground and make sacrifices to atone for their treatment of her.

“The Spirit of the Forest Cold” appeared in Silver Blade. Read it here.

My latest novella, The Court of the Sovereign King, is available. Get a copy here.

I would love to hear your comments.