Despite her gray hair and the deepening lines in her face, despite her self-mortification, Radegund was still vigorous, still clear of mind. Agnes was as well, and likely to outlive her. But both were mortal and gave the convent its only guidance. Radegund began to consider what would follow them. Something more enduring was required, a rule to guide the convent beyond their individual successors. Rules for nuns were rare. But in Arles, Caesarius had written one for his sister’s convent. Radegund wrote to inquire about this and began to discuss the idea with Agnes and Fortunatus.

Agnes disliked the idea of a rule at all. “Can we not let Christ guide us?” Radegund looked tenderly at her spiritual daughter, always so inclined to trust human nature. “Some need more help than others in accepting His guidance.” Even Agnes had to admit that some nuns were less regular in their chores, less restrained in their behavior than the Lord might like.

Fortunatus, practical as always, at once understood the need. If one was to establish a community that outlived individuals, something beyond an individual must guide it. “But it is not enough to hear how this has worked elsewhere. You must see for yourself.”

Radegund had not considered this. It had been years now since she had traveled. Did she still have the strength?

“Further,” said Fortunatus, “this rule requires absolute enclosure. Would you not like one more look at the world before you forsake it forever?”

She resisted such selfish reasoning. But in fact the thought attracted her. And never had her travels taken her so far.

Emotion overcame Fortunatus when he saw small trees with thick twisted trunks. “Olive trees! Exactly like the ones back home!”

As they approached the coast, Radegund delighted in the smell of herbs, carried on a balmy breeze she only later recognized as sea air. How Roman it was here! The red-tiled roofs were all in excellent shape, the Roman-style houses intact. Even the roads were solidly paved. And the sunlight! It seemed to sparkle in the air itself.

Their first glimpse of the Mediterranean stunned Radegund and Agnes – they had never seen water so blue. Even Fortunatus, who had only ever seen the Adriatic, was astonished. Closer to Arles, they began to see boats of different sorts – carrying goods, trawling nets, bristling with arms. Donkeys and wagons crowded the road, interspersed with laden camels; Arles was a busy city.

Inside the city gates, a second set of walls greeted them: those of a tall amphitheater. Radegund had seen remnants of these at Soissons and Poitiers but never one so grand, so intact. For a moment they stopped and stared up at the rows of openings in the high white marble wall. “Was it in such places,” Agnes asked, “that the first martyrs died?”

“I believe so,” said Radegund.

With that, they both dismounted and knelt, joined by Fortunatus, to pray for those who had suffered so to bring Christ to Gaul.

The convent was in the far corner of the city, right near the water. A large white building with a red tile roof, it stood behind a high wall. A man came to take Fortunatus and the other men to a guesthouse nearby, while Radegund and Agnes rode in. As at Poitiers, stables and storerooms were built against the inner wall.

Several women dressed in white, their heads covered with scarves, came out to meet them. They recognized the abbess, Lilliola, by her air of authority and the quiet deference of her companions. She was a sturdy southern woman with a broad cheerful face. Despite stray locks of gray hair, she had the energy of a much younger woman.

“Welcome, holy sisters!” she said, spreading her arms wide. “You must be hungry after your travels.” Without waiting for an answer, she led them to the refectory, where they were served bread, wine and bowls of chick peas. Neither Radegund nor Agnes had ever seen these. Lilliola smiled broadly. “Of course, in the north, you eat more broad beans. We have those too. But rarely – too many sicken our southern constitutions.”

The abbess ate with good appetite and clearly enjoyed her cup of wine. Radegund politely asked for water. “Do you drink no wine, my sister?”

“Almost none, Holy Mother.”

It surprised Lilliola too to see how little Radegund ate. “The Lord does not ask that we starve ourselves.”

Radegund lowered her eyes. “It is my way, Holy Mother.” Lilliola nodded slowly, then asked, “You have come to learn about our rule!”

“And to see it in practice, yes.”

“Excellent!”

Lilliola began to outline the general principles: that after a year’s trial, a nun was to be cloistered forever and not to leave the convent at all; that no one was to possess anything but everything to be shared; that those who did not know how to read and write be taught and that all were to spend two hours a day in study; that the nuns themselves were to make all their clothes, which were to be neither colored nor dark, but milk-white; that each, as at Poitiers, was to take her turn doing chores.

Their brief meal done, Lilliola began to lead them through the convent. In one large room they saw straw palettes, with simple coverings, laid out in rows. “Where are the nun’s cells?” asked Agnes. “We have no cells here; it is contrary to the Rule. All except myself share this common room. Nor is any nun to keep anything of her own.” Agnes’ mouth fell open; Radegund merely nodded.

In another room, they found sacks of wool, with nuns combing it out and spinning it into thread. Coarse spools of this were piled on a table. As they watched, two nuns came in, gathered them up and took them to the next room. Following them, Radegund and Agnes found ten nuns at upright looms, weaving cloth from the wool.

A smell of urine came from the next room, where nuns stood barefoot in tubs, trampling the new cloth in vats filled with that and water, blanching it. A door here led to a courtyard, where sheets of cloth hung in the sun. Long tables filled the next room, with rolls of the new cloth set against the wall and sheets of it laid out on the tables. Most were already cut into shapes suggesting robes. In the room beyond this, they found nuns sewing the cut cloth.

Radegund admired all this industry. Her own nuns worked busily enough, but not in so organized a fashion.

Lilliola led them to another small building, where they found nuns copying manuscripts and binding books, as others mixed ink or ground colors. The convent’s focus on books and learning enchanted Radegund, as did the fact that all were to read the Scriptures for themselves. Agnes was more pensive. “Are our nuns never again to leave the convent, Holy Mother, not even to go to the cathedral? Nor to have cells of their own?”

“When you live in the Lord,” said Radegund, “you need never go out. And when you live among the holy, you have no need of walls.”

The Rule -->