Gisel stepped out of the cloister into the herb garden. The garden was just large enough for an oak tree planted in the middle to spread its branches. The leaves of the tree had taken on the light green color of spring and rustled softly in the wind. Above, the rising sun tinted the clouds in a rich orange-red. Within the walls of the cloister with its narrow, tall arched windows, sixteen small beds were laid out in a four-by-four grid. Each of the sixteen squares grew different herbs like sage, comfrey, and fennel, emitting an intense aroma. Fist-sized stones bordered the beds, and a grid of gravel paths ran between them. A blackbird hopped across the damp grass under the oak, pecking for a worm.

Gisel knelt in front of a bed. Among the leaves of the irises, with their long, violet-green buds, silver dewdrops on a spiderweb glistened in the first rays of the sun. A fresh breeze brushed over Gisel's cheeks, gently playing with the ribbons of her bonnet.

As she scratched in the soil with her fingers, a black beetle scurried away. Gisel hummed quietly to herself.

"Springtime banishes sorrow,

Joy is spread wide

Over hill and dale and green meadows,

At the edge little flowers,

Large and small, newly appear,

White, red, yellow, and the blue ones too."

The brief moments of sunrise belonged to Gisel, here in the garden, alone. She checked everything, weeded, collected pests, and cut the herbs that would later be used for cooking. In doing so, she felt a sense of freedom in this peaceful paradise amid the noisy, smelly, gray city of Passau, whose skyline rose behind the walls of Niedernburg Monastery. Gisel took a deep breath to draw strength.

She spent most of her days in the dimly lit, musty, and dusty rooms of the monastery. She made the beds of the ten nuns, emptied their chamber pots, cleaned beets and white carrots, plucked chickens, cleared the dishes from the tables, and swept the floor with a broom. The Benedictine nuns tasked her with everything they didn't want to do themselves. And as the last remaining serf, she had to obey and do what the sisters commanded. So went her life, day in, day out, as long as she could remember, at least fifteen of her roughly twenty-three years. And yet, there were fewer and fewer serfs in the city, as free servants flocked to Passau, dissolving the old dependencies.

Usually, in the later hours of the day, just before Vespers, Sister Hildegard inspected the herb garden with Gisel, trimmed the plants, or instructed Gisel on what to do the next morning. In doing so, the nun imparted all her knowledge about herbs to her. Not for nothing had the sister chosen the name of her role model, Hildegard of Bingen, a Benedictine whose incredible knowledge of plants and diseases had lasted for the past century and a half. The energetic expression of an intelligent woman was on Sister Hildegard's face.

The garden and the talks about herbs were the only pleasant diversion in the dreary everyday life. Gisel absorbed every single word of the sister.

Lovingly, Gisel plucked wilted leaves from the irises. She had planted the flowers under Sister Hildegard's instruction in autumn. Now, they would not be long until blooming.

"Gertrude benefits the gardener fine, when she comes with sunshine," Gisel repeated the wisdom Sister Hildegard had taught her the day before. A red curl escaped under her bonnet and fell forward.

"Gisel! Gisel! Where is that dreadful girl hiding!"

Gisel startled at the shrill voice of Sister Elisabeth, the dean.

An old, gaunt woman in monastic garb stood leaning against a stone pillar of the cloister, staring over at Gisel.

The dragon! For Heaven's sake! Gisel had completely forgotten she was supposed to report to the dean at dawn! The bishop was coming to visit, and the whole house was in an uproar!

Gottfried von Weißeneck was literally the breadwinner for the nuns, but an unreliable one. The monastery was no longer in its former wealth: the buildings were crumbling, the nuns were emaciated to the bone, and the dean with her capricious manner was not able to charm the dignitary. No one could know if Gottfried would be more favorably inclined towards the nuns after his visit. So much depended on it! For the bishop was to pay off the debts that had accumulated for the renovation of the monastery and also provide more money for the living expenses of the nuns.

Gisel's heart pounded up to her throat. She stood up, dusted the soil off her hands, tucked

the curl under her bonnet, and smoothed her apron over her brown woolen dress. She didn't want to provoke additional reprimands for a sloppy appearance. With a sense of dread in her stomach, she hurried to the old woman, who was still leaning against the pillar. The furrows on her face dug deeper in anger, her deceitful eyes squinted.

Gisel ducked her head. "Forgive me, Sister Elisabeth, I completely forgot..."

A slap hit her cheek, cutting off her words.

"Only God can forgive you, you raven-black hussy! We've been far too kind to you here! You obviously need a good beating again to drive out your foolishness!"

Gisel held her throbbing cheek and lowered her head. "Yes, Sister Dean!" Her lower lip trembled. Her insides cramped. How she hated the sight of this disgusting old dragon!

Sister Elisabeth turned without another word and stepped back into the twilight of the cloister.

Before Gisel followed the slender figure, she cast a glance back at the herb garden, absorbing its appearance, sheltered under the oak in the bright morning sun. Later, while scrubbing pots, washing laundry, or polishing floors, she would recall this image. When she was scolded too harshly again, the thought of this little piece of freedom amidst her depressing prison would calm her.

A cloud moved in front of the sun, stealing the garden's bright colors. Gentle rain began to fall. In the distance, thunder rumbled. Gisel's heart tightened.

Sister Elisabeth grabbed her by the arm and dragged her across the cloister to the chapter house.

"Look! Dust and filth! Yuck!" Sister Elisabeth ran her finger over the walnut wood desk positioned on one narrow side of the chapter house.

The wind carried bird songs from the oak in the courtyard through the large windows. Three pillars supported the vaulted ceiling, painted with colorful images from the life of Jesus and with floral vines. Wooden benches stood against the outer wall, which had only one small arched window. A few branches with pussy willows in a gilded vase decorated the stone altar, but the flowers were already wilting. Candles burned on a metal stand. In a corner, water dripped from the ceiling over the stone, where the wall was mossy green. Despite the renovation work and good ventilation, it smelled musty.

Sister Elisabeth grabbed Gisel by the shoulders and shook her. "Everything must shine for the bishop! Do you understand? And make sure you clean the cloister, and the latrines, of course! You must be finished by noon!"

Gisel let herself be shaken like a wet sack. She nodded silently. Sister Elisabeth left, and Gisel sent a bitter, venomous look after her.

"Old dragon!" she hissed. Then she fetched a bucket of water and set it in the middle of the chapter house. She looked around.

It would take some time to remove the dust and dirt from the furniture, niches, and stone slabs on the floor. She also had to polish the candlesticks, chalices, and metal fittings. She had to be thorough, so the dean wouldn't scold her for sloppiness. Last time, Sister Elisabeth had found fingerprints on the brass chalice on the altar. She had forced Gisel to clean the chapter house a second time and spend the night in the church, kneeling and praying rosaries. Finally, Sister Hildegard had come and freed her.

"Forgive her," Hildegard had said, "Elisabeth can't get over being sent to the monastery after her husband's death."

Dizzy and sleep-deprived as Gisel had been, she could barely stretch her stiff limbs. She couldn't care less about the dean's dead husband. Probably she had driven him to his grave herself. Served the dragon right that she now had to spend her days in the monastery.

Gisel began polishing the wooden benches. How exciting! The bishop was coming to the monastery! She had heard many stories about him. He ruled over the Diocese of Passau and its possessions – a worldly man who had studied abroad and invited the whole empire to his knight tournaments.

What would the dean discuss with the bishop? It must be an important matter, otherwise he wouldn't bother coming. He had always neglected the nuns, even though he was responsible for them. And now Gisel finally had the chance to see him! She couldn't miss it! She just had to find a way.

Gisel pouted and looked around the hall. Her eyes fell on the chest in the corner, painted with the Virgin Mary holding her child Jesus. Lorenz had made it and it had only been in place for a few days. Gisel went over and examined it more closely. The lock opened easily, so she could effortlessly lift the lid and peek inside. Well, if it wasn't...

"Already done with your work?"

"Ow!" Gisel jerked up and hit her head on the lid. She gathered herself and looked straight into Lorenz's face.

Lorenz was the carpenter who often came to the monastery to do jobs. Grinning, he looked at Gisel. His green eyes stood out from his narrow, angular face. His slightly protruding ears made him look mischievous. Now he seemed to be at a loss for words and scratched his short beard.

"What are you doing here?" Gisel asked irritably, rubbing the back of her head.

Lorenz continued to grin slyly. "I'm bringing new chairs for the chapter house. The dean's orders. And what are you doing here?" He pointed at the chest.

"None of your business!" Gisel adjusted her bonnet.

"If it's about you, it always interests me!" Lorenz replied. "God didn't give you those wild red curls and blue eyes for nothing – your destiny

is to charm the world of men."

"Oh, stop talking nonsense! My destiny is to polish floors, wash laundry, and be bossed around by the nuns for the rest of my life." Gisel turned back to the chest and scratched her chin.

"If it were up to me, I'd marry you on the spot! I'd be proud to have such a beautiful woman!"

"But it's not up to you, it's up to the dragon Sister Elisabeth!" she said, continuing to examine the wooden chest without paying too much attention to Lorenz. Fortunately, it was empty.

"But we could meet secretly, right? I could sneak into the monastery in the evening and we could kiss under the stairs."

Gisel spun around to face Lorenz. "Are you out of your mind? We would burn in hellfire forever for that!"

His smile vanished, but he didn't give up. "I could ask the dean for your hand in marriage!"

Gisel shook her head, loosening another strand of hair. "You don't have the money for a wife, and she won't let me go – then she would have no one to take her anger out on!"

Lorenz stepped closer to Gisel and gently touched the stray hair. "But I don't know what to do! Every time I see you, I get sinful thoughts!"

Gisel pushed him away. "Lorenz! If someone hears this, I'll be praying rosaries until I collapse!"

Just then, Sister Elisabeth appeared in the archway. "What's going on here?" Full of suspicion, she looked from Lorenz to Gisel, whose face flushed with redness.

The dean addressed Lorenz in a commanding tone. "You can leave the chairs outside; we'll bring them in later and place them where we need them."

She ushered Lorenz outside. Under the archway, she turned around once more. "And you, you useless goat, get back to work!"

Gisel ducked her head and bent down to fish out the rag from the bucket.

"Oh, Sister Dean," Gisel heard Lorenz complain outside.

"We didn't bring you here to bother our servants! Complete your job and don't meddle in the monastery's affairs!" Sister Elisabeth's words echoed in the cloister.

Gisel remained behind, running her hand over the painted surface of the chest. Damn it, it would be perfect for the bishop's visit...

Late in the afternoon, Gisel finally finished the task Sister Elisabeth had additionally assigned her – removing the weeds from between the stone slabs in the cloister. She got up and pressed her fists into her aching back from kneeling. She saw Sister Hildegard inspecting parsley plants in the garden. Gisel approached.

Without looking up, the nun began, "The parsley shoots are strong enough. Good that we pre-grew them in pots. I can harvest them now." She clipped a few stems with scissors. Then she stood up. "Too many evil humors are accumulating in Sister Elisabeth's insides again. Now she has heart trouble, and I want to relieve her before the bishop arrives. I'll prepare a parsley-honey wine for her, which will restore her strength overnight."

Gisel nodded. She knew the recipe. She had often watched Sister Hildegard prepare the concoction. The parsley was boiled in wine, then the mixture was enriched with honey and vinegar, and the clear liquid was strained.

A dove startled and fluttered into the sky. Gisel looked up and sighed, watching the bird. "I'd love to be that free."

Sister Hildegard clipped a shoot and placed it beside the basket. "But child, you don't need wings to be free!"

"If I could, I'd fly away from the monastery. Otherwise, I'm a prisoner here for life."

Sister Hildegard froze in her motion and looked at Gisel in surprise. "Through God's love, you are free! Whether bishop, dean, nun, or maid. God makes no distinction. You have all the freedom to shape the community in mutual love and respect!"

Gisel shook her head vigorously. "To me, freedom means a garden without walls. A wide, green meadow. There's none of that in the monastery. Everything is tight and limited. I only get out of the monastery walls at Easter and Christmas!"

The nun approached Gisel and hugged her. "Freedom begins in the mind, my child. Not in some garden. Follow God, not earthly desires. I swear, then you'll be free!"

Gisel sank into the nun's soft embrace, biting her lower lip to keep from crying.

After sunset, Gisel lay stretched out under the stairs on her straw sack, tired and drained from the day's work, already sleepy. The light from the candles placed in wall niches in the stairwell provided faint illumination for her sleeping place. On a ledge under the stairs, her few possessions were lined up. The small, black box and the embroidered handkerchief, gifts from her mother, were particularly valuable. The wooden boards of the stairs creaked softly as a sister hurried upstairs. Judging by the patter, it was Sister Agathe. Fine dust sprinkled onto Gisel's rough woolen blanket.

Freedom. How enticing the word sounded. Like an endlessly wide meadow of flowers. Like the walk to Mass at the cathedral on Easter and Christmas. She had felt such a feeling when her mother spun her around as a small child, and she couldn't stop giggling.

Above, a handbell jingled. Gisel got up. Was Sister Theresa's chamber pot full? Was Sister Gertraud still hungry? Gisel yawned and stretched, then threw aside the woolen blanket and made her way up the stairs to the communal dormitory.

At the break of the next day, right after morning prayer, the bishop was supposed to come. Naturally, he made them wait. This made Sister Elisabeth, who seemed to have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed anyway, even more venomous, and she mercilessly bossed Gisel around. Just like now, as the two hurried through the cloister to the chapter house, Gisel a step behind the dean. Dark clouds hung in the sky, and it poured as if from buckets. A gust howled and whipped thick raindrops through a window arch into the cloister. The downpour soaked the nun's dress. Gisel, walking beside her, watched the dean. She first jumped in shock, then composed herself. Sister Elisabeth resumed her stony expression, her mouth twisted sourly.

She inhaled through her nose and held her breath for a moment before exhaling loudly. Then she gestured forward. "Check if wine and water are ready in the chapter house, and remove that dead bird from the cloister! What are you waiting for?" Annoyed, she sighed, turned around, and stomped off in the other direction.

Gisel rejoiced inwardly. Now she could crawl into the chest to overhear the conversation with the bishop, and no one would notice! She picked up the dead bird and threw it through the open arch into the herb garden, where she could bury it later.

In the chapter house, drinking vessels and carafes filled to the brim were ready. Gisel listened briefly, hurried over to the chest, and opened the lid. A leather-bound book lay on the wooden floor. She hadn't seen it before! She pushed it to the back corner and crawled into the chest. It smelled intensely of fresh wood. Through a crack, she could see the table where the dean and the bishop would sit. The weak, gray light of the rainy day entered through the window, but a hanging lamp sufficiently illuminated the room.

Soon, Gisel heard distant voices. She held her breath.

"How thoughtful of Your Grace to make time for us and our concerns," the dean's sycophantic tone came through. "Please, right this way. You haven't been here in so long, you probably don't remember your way around!" she added with a sharp undertone.

"Indeed, it's been a while since I last entered these walls." Gottfried's voice was deep and melodic.

The dean entered the chapter house with the bishop. Gisel shuddered at the sight of the clergyman. He looked magnificent, as if God himself walked the earth. The bishop sparkled with gold and gemstones! He wore a high, pointed cap adorned with gold trim. In his hand, he held a staff carved with ornaments. Gottfried wore three layers of clothing that rustled with each step: a white undergarment reaching his ankles, a shorter blue one edged with gold, and over it, a sleeveless red woolen cloak that cast many folds. A golden band lay around his shoulders, embroidered with three rosettes. The mere appearance of the bishop must have instilled awe in his subjects!

As the bishop approached, Gisel could see his face. It was round and well-fed, with sharp eyes and a thin mouth.

"Right this way, Your Grace!" The dean hurried to the head of the table and pulled back the armchair, made by Lorenz, so the bishop could sit down. The wooden chair legs squeaked on the stone floor. The dean herself took a seat to Gottfried's right, facing Gisel's direction. The sight of the emaciated Sister Elisabeth in her black monastic habit next to the resplendent bishop, whose body was as broad as a cupboard, was grotesque. Gisel figured the sight of the well-fed churchman must have been particularly galling to the dean. The golden days of the abbey were long past, and the bishop only ensured the nuns had the bare necessities.

"Dean Elisabeth!" began Gottfried. "I must say, the renovation of the monastery is quite impressive! Finally, the marks of civil unrest and decay are gone! Your nuns can now serve God undisturbed. And all this has happened under your leadership. What an organizational feat!"

The dean smiled sourly. "I'm very pleased you like the new premises. Indeed, every penny was carefully invested."

The bishop looked expectantly at the dean, who was visibly uncomfortable that he didn't continue speaking. "We need... there's a lack of...," she stammered. Then her fighting spirit took over, and she blurted out, "We're missing a considerable amount! The Bohemian tolls aren't enough to cover all costs. Several bills from craftsmen and demands for materials are still outstanding."

The bishop leaned back, tugged at his chin, and scrutinized the dean.

"You said you would help us out?" she asked cautiously.

The bishop leaned forward again, piercing the dean with his gaze. "Ah, so it's about money. But I have none myself! I've just completed the expansion of my residence!"

"My lord! Our nuns are starving! We hardly have money for clothes! Let alone for a proper altar cross, a suitable paten, or feeding the poor! We agreed we couldn't let the monastery fall into ruin!"

"How much are we talking about?"

The dean stood up, pushing her chair back noisily. Gisel watched her tensely. She walked around the bishop and headed in the direction of the chest... No! She was heading towards the chest!

Gisel held her breath. With each step of the dean, her heart pounded louder. Oh no! Now it dawned on her. The book she had carelessly

pushed aside was an account book! In slow motion, Sister Elisabeth bent down, opened the lid, and looked directly into Gisel's upturned face.

The dean was as startled as Gisel and her eyes widened, but then anger took over. "You impudent thing, what are you doing here?" She grabbed Gisel by the ear, pulled her out, and shook her by the shoulders. "You have the audacity to eavesdrop on the bishop and me during important business? You'll regret this!"

With those words, she dragged Gisel to the door and pushed her into the cloister. "Tomorrow morning, you'll be sent to Vornbach Monastery. I don't want to see you here anymore! Now get out of my sight!"

Gisel felt dizzy. Vornbach Monastery? Known for its severity? Where the abbot beat the servants black and blue and rumors said some even died from it? Oh no! She had to prevent this at all costs!

"Sister Hildegard! There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Gisel stopped, out of breath, in front of the nun.

Sister Hildegard stood in her apothecary, as she called the small room, its shelves stacked nearly to the ceiling with various jars and pots of salves, powders, and juices. Two candles in wall niches provided light, barely illuminating the room. In the middle, there was a table with scales, mortars, and pestles, and nearby lay cinnamon bark and dried hart's tongue leaves.

The nun looked up, holding a mortar in which she had been crushing some plant parts. "Ah, Gisel! I'm preparing an elixir for Sister Antonia's abdominal ailments. What's wrong?"

"The dean... she's sending me to Vornbach! Please help me, I don't know what to do!" Gisel covered her face with her hands and began to cry.

"To Vornbach? To Abbot Engelschalk? My God! What did you do?"

"I eavesdropped on the conversation with the bishop and the dean caught me!" Gisel whimpered into her hands.

"You deserve punishment for that. But sending you away is cruel."

Gisel dropped her hands and looked pleadingly at Sister Hildegard. "I don't want to go to Vornbach! Please, Sister Hildegard, what should I do?"

Hildegard tapped her finger against her lips. "Sister Elisabeth will make sure you leave. Let me think... I can only think of the Bohemian Forest."

"The Bohemian Forest?" Gisel shivered. "It's full of robbers and ghosts!"

"Nonsense! It's not that bad there. And settlers are being sought for colonization."

Gisel perked up. "Colonization? What do you mean?"

"Exactly. The settlers are granted some freedoms. They don't have to pay rent or tithe, and they're exempt from serfdom."

Gisel managed a smile. Her face brightened.

Sister Hildegard continued, "I can arrange a meeting with the locator for you. You know, the settlement of the Bohemian Forest was once our monastery's task. Now the bishop handles it. His ministers used to be ours, so we still have good connections to them."

Gisel looked for the catch in the story. "And I can just go there?"

"Well, it's not that simple. The locator will first assess your suitability. As a single woman, you don't qualify. You need a man. A husband. Do you know anyone who would go with you?"

Gisel shook her head.

Just then, Lorenz peeked into the apothecary. "Sister Hildegard, we were supposed to measure the new shelves for the library."

"Lorenz!" Gisel exclaimed.

Lorenz blushed. "Gisel, what's wrong?"

Sister Hildegard put aside her mortar and wiped her hands on her apron. "She'll tell you in a moment. I'll try to convince the dean in the meantime. Doing so would at least please the bishop." She left the apothecary quickly.

"What's going on?" Lorenz scratched his head.

Gisel looked at him for a moment, thinking about how to start. "Lorenz, you said yesterday that you would marry me on the spot. Did you mean it?"