At the bottom of the hill, there were much larger vegetable beds, full of onions, potatoes, leeks, radishes, turnips, and more, all the sort of foods that would be used in abundance on a daily basis. Freya had expected a courtyard, but found to her surprise that the ground was left in its natural state, with only a few stone paths crisscrossing around. Wild grass grew along the sides of the Priory, with wildflowers sprouting in abundance, dots of color in the sea of green.
Senga led her over to a large square of a garden, where a young woman knelt in the center, elbows-deep in dirt. She glanced up as they approached, and smiled.
“Senga! Come to help with the potatoes? I could use a— Oh, who is this?”
The girl got up, using the back of her hand to push round, wire-rimmed spectacles further up on her nose. She couldn’t be more than nineteen, by Freya’s estimation, with olive-hued skin, untidy brown hair, and a pair of large hazel eyes. She smiled easily, revealing a missing back tooth, the one beside her left canine. It gave her a strangely endearing and lopsided look. Shewas dressed in the same smock and shirt as Senga, and her hair was not covered, either.
“This is Kyla, Freya. She’s only been here for a year. I warn ye, don’t let her talk to ye about her books and manuscripts, or else she’ll talk ye to death.”
Kyla snorted. “Ye are extremely unkind, Senga. It’s a pleasure to meet ye, Freya.”
She extended a soil-caked hand for Freya to shake. Freya hesitated, eyeing the girl’s palm for a minute, before Kyla realized and grimaced, withdrawing her hand.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “Still, it’ll be good to have extra hands, eh? Senga and I are run ragged in the gardens.”
“Freya is here to rest, for now,” Senga answered reprovingly. “Not to do chores.”
“No, I would like to earn my keep,” Freya said eagerly. “I’ve… I’ve not done much work in gardens, but I’m sure I’ll pick it up.”
“Senga will teach you,” Kyla said with a laugh. “She’s been here long enough. Longer than some of the nuns, I think. People are always asking why she’s stayed here so long, and I always say that it’s not the company, but the food.”
It was clearly meant to be a joke, but nobody laughed. Senga’s face seemed to have turned to stone. She shot a quick, unreadable look at Kyla. The smile dropped from Kyla’s face like a rock through water. She swallowed hard, and looked away.
Freya shifted uncomfortably. It was clear that Kyla had said something wrong by mistake, butshehad no idea why it was wrong, and now the previously friendly atmosphere had tightened up.
The awkward moment was interrupted by a window somewhere above their heads scraping open. A head poked out, obviously belonging to a proper nun, wimple and all.
“Would it be too much to ask,” the woman said, exasperated, “for a wee bit of silence during our prayers? Perhaps that’s toomuch to ask, considering we’re in aconvent. Kyla, lass, yer voice carries a lot more than ye think. It’s echoing in here!”
Kyla winced. “Sorry, Sister Rosemary! But look, there’s a lass come to stay with us. Her name is Freya.”
Freya waved uncomfortably up at the middle-aged nun, who did not wave back.
“It’s good to have ye here, Freya. I warn ye, if ye are here to find peace, quiet and solitude, ye’ll not find it with these madwomen around!”
Freya bit back a smile.
“Ye really love us, Sister Rosemary! Ye would miss us if we didn’t tease ye so much!” Kyla called back.
Sister Rosemary tried and failed to look stern. She half-withdrew, then paused.
“Before I forget, Brendan is here with the supplies. Would ye lassies take care of it, help him get everything unloaded?”
“Aye, Sister,” Senga and Kyla chorused.
The nun nodded and withdrew back inside, closing the window after her.
Senga seemed to have recovered from whatever had so upset her before, and glanced down at Freya with a smile.
“Want to give us a hand?”
They did not goinside the Priory, which was a little disappointing. Freya found herself keen to go inside and take a look around. Still, she supposed there would be opportunities for that later. Kyla babbled constantly about the Priory’s library and rare manuscripts. Both women seemed healthy and happy enough, putting to rest some of Freya’s concerns about beinglocked in a basement and quietly starved. The convent seemed to be a decent enough place to rest, at least for a while.
They followed a path around the convent which led to a small stone outbuilding.
“This is where we store most of our food,” Senga explained. “Mostly, it’s underground, which keeps things cool. Oh, there is Brendan.”
As they approached, the door opened, and a man appeared, carrying an empty barrel on one shoulder. He set it aside easily, as if it weighed nothing, and then turned to face the three women.
