copyright Roger Bultot
Competing Vows
We met at the garden gate after dark, both trembling and nervous. She was still beautiful, even swathed in the crisp, new habit.
“Hello, wife,” I said, still unused to that glorious word.
She looked troubled. “The abbess said the cardinal has annulled it.”
“We didn’t agree to that! Did you?” She shook her head. “Let’s run away. Tonight.”
“Where?”
“There hasta be somewhere your family can’t find us.” I tried to draw her outside, my body aching for her. “Do you have some time, at least?”
She resisted. “They made me take other vows here.”
“But ours came first.”
The Green-Walled Tower 