A Game of Shadows (21 page)

“You have my coin?”
the man asked suspiciously.  “Mrs. Morse said you’d pay me well.  Should keep me in drink for at least a week.”  He grinned at the thought of spending his well-earned money at the tavern, oblivious to the bleeding young man at his feet.  Finn silently handed over a few coins, his attention on Sam.  Abbie tore off the hem of her chemise, wetting it and using it to wipe Sam’s face.  His face was the color of whey, but he opened his eyes, looking up at Abbie with a slight smile. 

“You just hang on, you hear
me?  We’ll get you back to the farm and take care of you.  Don’t you even think of dying on me after you saved me.”  Abbie wiped his face again, planting a kiss on his forehead.  “Don’t die on me, Sam.  Please.” 

Finn drew her to him as she began to shake.  The shock was beginning to wear off, reality setting in.  They were still in danger, and would be until they reached Mr.
Jenkins’s farm.  It was imperative that they dock in some remote place and then make their way on foot to the farm. 

“Dock at South Beach,” croaked Sam.  “We should be able to walk to Dongan Hill from there.  Finn
, do you remember where the farm is?”

“I’ll find it.  Don’t you worry.  Just rest.  How do you feel?”

“Cold,” Sam whispered, his eyes closing. Finn put his arm around Abbie as she looked at him in panic.  Sam’s gaze was glazed, his eyes unable to focus.  He seemed to be bleeding a little less, probably because he was lying down. 

“We’re nearly there.  He’ll make it, Abbie.  You’ll see.”  She just leaned against Finn, closing her eyes. 
Her arms and legs felt like lead, and her head was pounding, the light hurting her eyes, but she couldn’t afford to let herself fall apart.  She’d rest later, once Sam was safely at the farm.  She couldn’t believe how much the situation had changed in one hour and the irony of it.

“I thought I’d never see you again.  I thought I’d die alone
, and now it’s Sam who’s dying.  Oh, Finn, how did it all go so wrong?”  Finn just held her close, not knowing what to say.  They took a great risk doing that they did, and this was the price they had to pay for saving Abbie’s life. 

Sam moaned as they helped him out of the boat
, setting him on his feet.  “Godspeed,” the old man called out as he rowed away, a big grin on his face.  He’d earned his money and he was eager to spend it.  He didn’t care what happened to them now that he’d gotten paid. 

“Can he be trusted not to betray us?” Abbie asked. 

“Yes,” Sam mouthed as he nearly collapsed onto the sand.  “He’ll go to the gallows too if he betrays us.  Finn, you have to leave me.  Help me to a sheltered spot and go on.  Take Abbie to Mr. Jenkins and come back for me with the wagon.  I can’t walk on my own, and I don’t want to hold you back.  They’ll be looking for her once they realize she’s gone and two soldiers are dead.  Keep her safe, Finn.”  Sam’s eyes were rolling into the back of his head, his lips turning bluish.

“I’m not leaving him, Finn.  I’m not,” Abbie said fiercely.

“Listen to me; if you get caught, Sam’s sacrifice would have been for nothing.  The best thing we can do is go back to the farm and get the wagon.  Mr. Jenkins and I will come back for Sam.  We’ll hide him over there for now.  All we can do is pray that he lasts another few hours.  Now help me make him comfortable.”  Finn dragged Sam to a secluded spot, laying him down in the shade.  He hoped he’d bleed less if lying down.  He poured some water into Sam’s mouth; putting the bottle in his hand should he want a drink.

“Sam, I’ll be back for you very soon.  Just hold on, all right?  Don’t give up, no matter what.”  Abbie looked away as Finn held Sam’s head to his chest, kissing the top of his head.  “You hold on.”

“Just go already,” Sam whispered, a small smile on his face.  “I’ll be here, waiting.”  Abbie kissed Sam, smoothing away a lock of dark hair from his clammy forehead. 

“I love you.”  She turned away to hide her tears from her brother.  “Let’s go.” 
Finn followed at a brisk pace, knowing better than to talk.  She was in hell, and all he could do was return for Sam as soon as he could.

September 1624

France

Alec felt a chill as soon as he passed through the doors of the convent.  It wasn’t just the cold reception he and Valerie received at the gate, but also the bone-chilling cold of a building made entirely of stone, with windows no wider than arrow slits, allowing in very little light and warmth.  The sunshine of early September did not penetrate the cold or the gloom of the monastery, giving the impression of being in a tomb.  The silence was so complete that it almost hurt his ears as he followed an elderly nun to the office of Mother Superior. 

The nun had refused to admit them, saying that their order was almost entirely cut off from the outside world and did not permit visitors, but he wouldn’t be turned away so easily.  After several minutes of arguing, the nun finally agreed to consult Mother Superior
, and returned for them with a look of severe disapproval on her weathered face, her lips pursed to the point of almost being invisible.  She glided down the stone hallway as if her feet didn’t touch the ground, frowning at the sound of Alec’s boots echoing through the dim halls. 

They passed the chapel where countless candles
burned at the feet of Christ, casting eerie shadows on his face and making it appear almost lifelike.  The chapel smelled of wax and wood polish, but there were no signs of life, not even nuns at prayer.  What had it been like to grow up in a place like this?  No wonder Genevieve was so timid and shy.  Most likely, she’d never known the sound of joy or laughter, or the comfort of touch. 

Their guide brought them to an arched doorway
at the end of the corridor and knocked lightly before turning on her heel and leaving without a word. 

“Ready?” Valerie asked.  She looked as if
she wanted to be anywhere but here, and suddenly Alec felt the same way. Why had he come?  What was he hoping to find?  Whatever information lay on the other side of the door wouldn’t really change anything.  Nothing Mother Superior could tell him would change the fact that his sister was dead by her own hand, and that her daughter was the product of an encounter which most likely lead to her suicide.  All he could do now was offer Genevieve the love and protection that she’d lacked since the day she was born, and in that small way, hope to make up for the actions of her parents.  But at this point it was too late to turn back.  Alec gave Valerie a rueful smile before he turned the brass handle of the door.

“Ready.”

Mother Superior sat behind a carved desk, her hands steepled in front of her as if in prayer; a narrow shaft of light illuminating her stern face.  She appeared to be somewhere in her mid-fifties with a narrow face, serious eyes, and lips that were so colorless, they almost blended into her pale skin.  Unlike the other sisters who worked in the garden and tended the animals, she probably spent most of her time on administrative tasks, rarely setting foot outdoors.  There was no sign of welcome as she gestured them to two high-backed chairs facing the desk.

“How can I help?” she asked, clearly displeased by their presence.
 

“Reverend Mother, a few weeks ago a young woman named Genevieve came to find me in London, claiming to be the daughter of my sist
er, Rose Whitfield, and informing me of her death.  I must admit that I was shocked to learn that my sister gave birth to an illegitimate child and then took her own life.  I am here to find out what happened to Rose once she came to your convent.”  It hadn’t been Alec’s intention to be so blunt, but Mother Superior’s frosty reception left him in little doubt that putting things in a more diplomatic way would do nothing to help their cause.  She didn’t look inclined to give them any more time than strictly necessary before showing them the door.

Mother Superior took a moment to answer, studying them with interest as if they were some specimen she’d never come across.  She never moved, her hands still in front of her like a shield.
  Alec hoped that a woman who spent her life tending to the well-being of nuns would have a little more compassion, but the woman’s eyes were cold, her back rigid as she faced him and Valerie across the desk.

“Mr. Whitfield, I’m afraid I can’t offer you much more information than you already possess.  I never knew Sister Rose.  I came here from another convent
after my predecessor died.  I knew of her, of course, because of Genevieve.  It was an unfortunate chapter in our history, if you’ll pardon me saying so, but we have managed to move on.”  She didn’t look as if she much cared if Alec pardoned her, but she was being coolly polite.

“There must be something you can tell me,” Alec persisted. 
“Surely there are still sisters here who remember Rose and can tell me something of her final days.”

“Mr. Whitfield, we are a closed order
, so the sisters will not speak with you, nor will I permit them to.  Besides, I highly doubt that they remember something that happened so long ago to someone who was with us for only a short time.  I will, however, give you the facts.”

Mother Superior rose from her desk going to a dusty bookshelf full of identical leather-bound volumes.  She ran her finger along the spines until she found what she was searching for and pulled out the volume, carrying it back to her desk and lea
fing through it very slowly.

“Here’s what I can tell you, Mr. Whitfield.  Rose Whitfield came to us in the fall of the year of our
Lord 1600.  She was a novice for a year before taking her vows the following autumn.  In July of 1602 she gave birth to a female child in her cell.  Three days later, she died by drowning herself in the river.  Most likely she couldn’t live with the disgrace she brought on herself and this house of God.”  Mother Superior closed the book with a finality that suggested she wasn’t going to tell them anything else. 

“Who is Genevieve’s father?”

“I don’t know.  No one ever came forth to claim the child.  I’m sorry, but I must ask you to leave now.  I have duties to attend to.”  She rose once again, walking to the door and holding it open for them.  The interview was over.

“Where is my sister buried?” Alec asked as he stopped in front of the woman, towering over her.
  He hadn’t thought it possible to feel such animosity toward a person who dedicated herself to the service of God, but he wanted nothing more than to grab her and shake her until he could see the person beneath the cold exterior she presented to the world, and maybe catch a glimpse of compassion for his poor sister and her orphaned child.

“As I’m sure you are aware, suicides are not buried in consecrated ground.  Sister Rose is buried at a crossroads
about two miles outside of Loudun. Good day to you both.  I trust you can find your way out.”  Mother Superior swept past them, disappearing down the hallway, her black habit billowing behind her like the sails.

“What did she say?” Valerie whispered as they left the convent.  “I only caught a few words.”

“She didn’t say anything we didn’t already know,” Alec replied, taking Valerie by the arm as they walked back toward the village.  He was oblivious to the beauty of the day around them as he went over every detail of the interview. 

Valerie squeezed his arm
in an effort to get his attention.  “Alec, I can hear you thinking from here.  What’s on your mind?  Are you very disappointed with what she said?” 

“I can’t honestly say that I expected her to tell me anything more, but
I was surprised by the hostility of the woman.  I don’t believe she told us the whole truth,” he said, walking faster in his agitation.  “Did you see how desperate she was to get rid of us?  She knows more than she admitted to, and she’s terrified that we’ll find out the truth, which obviously still has the power to destroy someone.”

“Do you really think so?  How do we find out?” 
Valerie was almost running to keep up with Alec, his boots raising a cloud of dust as he strode down the dirt lane, oblivious to everything around him.

“The only thing we can do is talk to some locals, starting with the innkeeper and his wife.  A nun giving birth to a bastard and
drowning herself in the river is not something people forget in a hurry.  It must have been a great scandal in a place like this.  Someone must know something.  Small towns thrive on gossip, and there’s always someone who’s eager to talk, especially when there’s money to be made.  I will offer a reward to anyone who can give me any information, then wait for them to come to me.”  Alec slowed down a little, taking Valerie’s arm as she stumbled over a stone, nearly losing her balance. 

“Are you sure you want to stir all this up again?  It was over twenty years ago.  Maybe it’s wiser to let it rest.” 
Valerie looked up at him, imploring him to just move on.  Nothing he could learn from the locals would bring him any comfort; if anything, it would raise more questions that he wouldn’t be able to find answers to.  Rose was dead, and nothing anyone could say would change that.

“Val, you are probably right, but I will never be able to rest if I don’t at least try to find out the truth.  Someone fath
ered that child, someone here in Loudun.  Rose became pregnant after being at the convent for a year, so that greatly narrows down the number of men she might have been exposed to, rather than if she had already been pregnant by the time she arrived here, so someone must know something.” 

“You
’re right, but Mother Superior said no one laid claim to the child.  If the father had been a local man, surely he knew the child was his.  Most likely, he either had no way of caring for it, or was a married man who didn’t want his indiscretions to ruin his life.  If he’s managed to keep his secret this long, what makes you think he would allow it to come to light now?  He must have had some way of protecting his secret.”

“
He could also have been someone who forced himself on a nun, and didn’t see fit to take responsibility for his actions.  His cowardice resulted in the death of my sister, and the less than happy life of his daughter,” Alec replied stubbornly.  “I have to see this through.”