Chapter 26Wimborne Abbey, 727 AD
The demise of Abbess Cuthburga was prolonged and harrowing for the holy lady and those who nursed her. Cynethryth calculated the dosage of narcotic potions with great care but was helpless to arrest the unforgiving malady. It tore at her heart to see such a noble spirit reduced to the tiny, skeletal figure that was its earthly frame.
One spring morning, Sefled, whose turn it was to vigil over the abbess, woke Cynethryth from her slumber. Her agitated assistant urged the infirmarian to dress and had her outdoors in minutes.
“The priest is administering the last rites, sister. I thought I should fetch you at once.”
“Bless you, Sefled, you did right.”
They hurried to the bedchamber of the abbess, where, upon entering, the tear-streaked faces of several nu
