When you came to Whitwood in your youth, you had difficulty settling into the religious life. It was what you thought you wanted. It was what your parents had paid more than they could easily afford to allow you to do. But you could not quite bring yourself to commit fully to the Rule, nor really feel the presence of God in your life. You professed your vows, but you couldn’t settle down.

Some time after your profession, your discomfort and ambivalence wound up with you running away. One evening, you fled Whitwood in the night in the company of a son of one of the abbey’s tenant weavers. You ran as far as Lincoln (six days’ travel on foot), a city of 2500 people, where you hoped to get lost in the crowd. You went about trying to set up a life there as husband and wife. The wool trade in decline, your ‘husband’ had trouble finding steady work, and you yourself had few useful skills. Once you fell pregnant, things became even more difficult: money was scarce, and eventually sickness visited your home, sending your ‘husband’ to God.

Alone and with few choices, you took your baby and headed back to the family home. Your parents were happy to see you, although they also made it plain that the bishop’s men had been looking for you. You were able to spend only a few weeks living with your parents and your baby before the authorities came and took you back to Whitwood. Your child remained behind to be cared for by your parents.