Grasping at Straws

The Witch's Daughter: Chapter 14. Hilde's alliances within the Priory shift as she opens up to the Reverend Mother but loses trust with Gráinne.

“What is to be your punishment, that’s the question,” the Reverend Mother said. She smiled and somehow was more terrifying for it. Although she was a head shorter than the Bishop, her iron grip and inexorable manner had overpowered and unmanned him completely. The spectacle of the Bishop being bustled out of her office by the Prioress’ quiet ferocity still played out in Hilde’s imagination.

The tall nun who stood in the corner like an ancient standing stone, had initially struck Hilde as an enforcer of sorts but after witnessing the Prioress handle the Bishop it seemed she didn’t need one. The old lady’s bright black eyes darted around, lighting on a pile of manuscripts on her desk, then glancing out the window at some passing residents, and then arced up to the vaulted ceiling to thoughts of the Lord. Or of other matters she was not leaving to divine providence, but taking into her own capable hands.

Detail from the map of Duncormac showing the cloisters of St Moragh’s Priory © 2025 Sarah Smith

“Don’t for a moment imagine you’re going to escape judgement, young lady. Your lies would make a sixty year old sinner blush. The cheek of you.”

The Reverend Mother crossed to the door and peered out through the crack. A quick glance and then she held it open for the taller nun, and jerked her head to one side. The statuesque lady crossed the room and left the two of them in silence. A crow cawed out in the courtyard.

The Prioress had an ear cocked toward the hallway. Her hand steepled, she placed her fingertips on one leather-bound pile of parchments on her desk.

“I have Gobnait’s version. Now I want yours,” the Prioress said. She blinked at Hilde. There was a subtle change in the Prioress’ manner that made Hilde stop, feeling for the right frame for her words. It seemed that appealing for mercy was a hopeless cause, and opening her heart, given it was entirely unclear what was going on in the Prioress’ mind might actually be the best chance at saving her Mama.

“Your grace, Reverend Mother. You said punishment? Jezabel said I should burn. For just being born to my Mama,” Hilde said. She leaned forward in her chair, and took her cap off. She tucked her hair behind her ears, and clasped her hands in front of her. “That man? I don’t think he is a real man of God. He is trying to get people to follow him. He is not pious. The things he says about witches and demons? Its not right.”

“Start from the beginning child,” Prioress Aíbinn said. She sat in a chair next to Hilde with her arms folded. “Maybe you’ll be condemned when the judgement comes. But the Lord sees all. Leave nothing out.”

Hilde closed her eyes for a moment and then speaking fast, recounted everything that had happened since she woke up yesterday morning in Blaine Cottage. At the mention of Father Stephen and his conversation with Ahearne under the pear tree, the Prioress shook her head slowly and a grim smile stole across her face. She gestured for more, and Hilde described the Bishop’s performance in detail before going on to describe the bundling of her Mama up in a sack, the night in the Chief’s barn, and her morning working for the Priory.

“Good lord,” the Prioress mumbled. “So at this age you’re thrown out of your home? You’ll have to sharpen up your tale girl, to impress me. I was eleven when I was taken from my home. It’s do or die in this world.”

Hilde opened her mouth but found herself just staring. The meeting with Gráinne in the common room flooded into her minds eye, the woman backing into the corner as Hilde pressed her. As determined to relate the truth as she was, these dire secrets caught in her throat. Should she keep talking and expose Gráinne’s secrets?

But the Prioress’ eyes misted, and her knuckles whitened as she gripped the arms of her chair. The older lady pressed her lips firmly together and a muscle in her jaw worked. It seemed she’d heard enough and whatever her course, it was set.

“Do or die.” The older lady stood up. Her eyes drifted to the door.