The Breath of Peace by Penelope Wilcock

make me sound like a complete shrew!’
    William added a small piece of cheese to his plate and spread butter on his bread. His lack of haste to refute this supposition kindled indignation into outrage.
    â€˜ What ? I don’t nag you – do I? I haven’t complained when you’ve been out all day to the market, or to see the lawyer or wherever, without me – have I? I have everything to do here myself, with the days short and all – firewood to chop and the animals to feed and the milking and the eggs to collect; not to mention it’s lonely on a dark evening here by myself when you go to York and get back home late – and I haven’t grumbled, not once!’
    â€˜No,’ he said softly, ‘you haven’t. And yes, by all means, you go. Madeleine, I don’t understand why you’re so angry with me. You told me you want to go and see John, I said that’s fine by me; what’s biting you?’
    â€˜You said I was a shrew.’
    â€˜What? I did not! I said no such thing – you said it, not me!’
    â€˜Well – you were in no hurry to contradict it.’
    He stared at her, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Amen! Look, just go! I signed up to a marriage, not to a war! The peace will be welcome and overdue. Stay three nights, stay a fortnight, but for pity’s sake go!’
    Madeleine stared at him, her speechless lips parted, her face flushed. She looked straight into his eyes, hurt to the quick, in silent reproach.
    He swore, savage and bitter, and pushed his chair back from the table. She drew breath to speak.
    â€˜ Shut up !’ he shouted at her, which made her jump, because William hardly ever raised his voice. ‘Don’t say anything more! Don’t say anything !’
    Monastic habit dies hard. Madeleine registered it on no conscious level, being too wrapped up in that moment in her own pressing sense of grievance, but if she had thought about it she would have marvelled that he went with quiet step to the door, and opened it to leave with the merest faint click of the latch. He got no further, arrested by his wife’s voice, plainly on the verge of tears, quavering: ‘I knew it would be like this! I knew you wouldn’t want me to go!’
    His shoulders sagged, and for a moment he just stood where he was. Then he turned to face her, his expression entirely baffled. He stared at her in wonder, and walked back to the place he had vacated. His hands spread on the board, he leaned on the table, contemplating his beloved with bewilderment.
    â€˜Madeleine… what have I ever said that made you think I didn’t want you to go and visit your brother? You are an intelligent woman. Did you not hear what I said? What’s wrong with you?’
    â€˜Nothing’s wrong with me. Nothing at all!’ A tear rolled down her cheek. ‘I heard what you didn’t say.’
    He shook his head, reaching out to wipe away the tear, which was swiftly followed by another. ‘Oh, my love. For mercy’s sake, will you try listening to what I have said and not to what I haven’t? Go and see your brother. Who knows but he can talk some sense into you. Stay however long you want to. But please – please, please, please – come home loving me.’
    â€˜I do love you!’ She fought to keep her voice steady with no success at all. ‘I don’t know why it’s always like this! I don’t know!’ The last word came out in a wail, and she dropped her face into her hands and began to sob. William walked round the table. He said nothing more, but stroked her hair and cradled her head against him. Had he caused this? Was he to blame? Did he start it and not notice? He had no idea.
    * * *
    â€˜I begged admittance to St Dunstan’s Priory when I was seventeen.’
    By their fireside once the evening came, Madeleine carding wool and William sitting quietly watching