CHAPTER 24
“Was it me, Sister Scholastica, or did Doctor Fleur seem to change moods right before our very eyes?”
“If it was you, then it was me also, Sister Jane. She did react to something. I think it might have had to do with Anthony. When he entered the room she appeared to lose it—and that’s not easy for a woman as accomplished as our Chantal. Anthony disappeared quickly also. He usually has better manners than that. I thought that we would at least be able to introduce them to one another.”
They washed up the tea things in silence and went to their rooms to think things through. About an hour later the phone rang.
“Salesian Monastery, this is Brother Matthew speaking,” answered the young monk. Matthew had made great strides since some earlier traumatic experiences in life and since his monastic profession.
“This is Trooper Jonas of the State Police. Is Abbot Francis available?” Matthew’s mind started to swirl.
“No he isn’t Trooper Jonas. Would you like to speak with our Prioress, Sister Jane de Chantal?”
“That will be fine Brother.”
Grim-faced, Brother Matthew went to fetch Sister Jane. He remembered too well that the community had dealt with Trooper Jonas in the past. The man was very nice but Matthew smelled trouble again.
“Brother Francis is out of the country Trooper Jonas. Is there anything that I can do for you?”
“We have a man here at the barracks who says that he lives at the Salesian Monastery. He was picked up for shop lifting.”
“I can’t imagine who that might be Trooper. Did he give you a name?”
“He calls himself ‘Dymphna.’ That sound’s like a woman’s name to me and, while he looks pretty macho, there is something feminine about him.’”
“Dymphna is the patron saint of the mentally ill, Trooper Jonas. The story goes that she had some sort of emotional problem and was on a journey one time and spent the night in the woods somewhere. When she woke her mental affliction was gone. The story spread and the rest is Church history!”
As she was speaking, Sister Jane de Chantal had an insight which hit her like a bolt of lightening wrapped in a clap of thunder.
“Brother Matthew and I will drive right over if that is acceptable.”
“Perfect, Sister. See you soon.”
Sister Jane pulled out of the monastery driveway with Brother Matthew in the passenger seat. As they made their way to Route 209 South, Brother Matthew produced a dusty old book.
“This is a book on the lives of the saints that I pulled off a library shelf after overhearing you talk with Trooper Jonas. I marked the page about Saint Dymphna. Perhaps knowing more about her will help solve the mystery of our mysterious new community member. He read:
“Dymphna was fourteen when her mother died. Her father, Damon, is said to have been afflicted with a mental illness brought on by his grief. He sent messengers throughout his town and other lands to find some woman of noble birth, resembling his wife, who would be willing to marry him. When none could be found, his evil advisers told him to marry his own daughter. Dymphna fled from her castle together with St. Gerebran, who was her confessor, and two other friends.
“Damon found them in Belgium. He gave orders that the priest's head be cut off. Then Damon tried to persuade his daughter to return to Ireland with him. When she refused, he drew his sword and struck off her head. She was then only fifteen years of age. Dymphna received the crown of martyrdom about the year 620. She is the patron of those suffering from nervous and mental afflictions. Many miracles have taken place at her shrine, built on the spot where she was buried in Gheel, Belgium.”
“So her father was the one with the emotional problems. Wow, talk about a traumatic youth!” the young monk exclaimed. “It all happened so long ago and far away that we don’t know the exact details but if even half of what poor Saint Dymphna is reputed to have experienced truly happened, it’s a wonder she didn’t split into multiple personalities.”
“What do you mean, Brother?”
“Brother Francis would know lots more about this topic than I do, but I had a few psych courses in college and I remember that many people who experience multiple personality disorder, often called ‘schizophrenia’ but it really isn’t that, have had a very traumatic youth. There was so much trauma that the host personality, the real person so to speak, blacks out and a sliver of the host personality emerges as a new entity. The process goes on and on as a way of coping. Often the number of personalities is in the teens.”
“I don’t like what I am hearing, Brother Matthew.”
“And I don’t like what I think you might be thinking, Sister.”