Goddess of the Sea (21 page)

Evening mass was already under way, and CC was pretty sure that Abbot William had shot her a quick, contemptuous look, but it was so dark in the chapel that it was hard to be certain. His voice droned on and on, soft and rhythmic, in a language that CC decided must be Latin. The priest stood behind an ornately carved wooden table at the chapel's nave. The table was filled with gilded relics that glittered and sparkled, even in the dim light. There was an enormous golden chalice and a matching platter, which held a loaf of bread. Huge candelabrum stood on either end of the table, but even the light of their many candles did little to dispel the gloom of the chapel.

Suspended almost directly over Abbot William's head was a life-sized golden crucifix. CC squinted, trying to get a better look at it. As on the cross in her room, the only sign of Christ were the shards of wooden nails that pierced the cross where his hands and feet would have been. This time drops of blood were painted on the gold, the color of which reminded CC of Abbot William's robes, and she had to suppress a shudder of revulsion.

What had happened to Christ? Why was he conspicuously left off of the crucifix? The omission both saddened and angered CC.

The cross was suspended between two thick gray columns. At the base of each column were lit dozens of tall, white candles. Their soft flames seemed to be swallowed within the cross's shadow.

CC followed Andras's lead, kneeling and genuflecting when appropriate. She even managed to whisper what she thought were correct responses to the small portion of the service that was in an understandable language.

CC had just begun to think that her knees had fallen asleep when Abbot William turned his back to the congregation and raised the chalice to the bleeding cross, asking for the blessing on the wine. As he returned the chalice to the table and lifted the bread to be blessed similarly, a flickering movement to her left caught CC's gaze. The shadows that ringed the pews were thick, but she was sure she saw something in an alcove off to the side of the sanctuary. She concentrated, peering into the murky darkness, and an image formed out of the haze. Her breath caught and her heartbeat quickened.

“We will take communion next,” Andras's voice spoke in her ear.

She looked around, startled at his words. The monks who had been seated in the row of pews directly across from them were standing and making their way slowly and reverently to take the blood and the flesh from Abbot William's hands.

CC's decision was quickly made. When Andras stood, she stood with him, but instead of following him like a good little lamb, she patted his hand and whispered, “Please excuse me, Andras. There is something I must do.”

As she slipped out from the other side of the pew, the knight's face tightened in anger, but instead of following her, he moved out of the opposite end of their row and stood obediently in line behind the cream-robed monks. She ignored his irritation and headed with unerring certainty to a forgotten alcove in the side of the chapel.

The figure of the Virgin Mary was carved within the chapel wall. An arch made of ivory marble framed her. Intrigued, CC stepped closer. The statue was filthy, completely covered with dirt and spider webs, but an area around the base of the figure was worn smooth, as if hundreds upon hundreds of velvet knees had once rested there. CC's eyes traveled up the exquisite figure. Mary's robes swirled in graceful simplicity around her sandaled feet. Her hands were open and beckoning; CC found something very comforting in the gesture. CC's eyes continued up, and she sucked a breath in shock.

Mary's face! It was ethereal in its serene beauty and astonishingly familiar.

“Gaea!” CC gasped.

The statue had the goddess's face. Gaea's words came back to her:
You might be surprised, Daughter, to learn that even here I have not been completely forgotten
.

The shuffling of the monks to communion invaded her thoughts, drawing her attention back to the nave. The profusion of candles winked at her. Moving with swift silence, she tiptoed, sneaking through the foglike shadows to grab a lit candle in each hand and carry them back to the statue. She set them at Mary's feet, pleased that the flames seemed to burn suddenly brighter.

On impulse, she sank to her knees, clasped her hands and bowed her head.

“Great Mother,” she prayed aloud. “Help me to be wise.” She glanced up at the face she knew as that of the goddess, smiled brightly and let her voice drop to a whisper. “Please keep me safe from Sarpedon—I think I can handle the rest of this mess. Him, I'm not too sure about, though.”

CC was so surprised when an answer rang in her head that she let out a little yip of shock.

“Undine! What are you—” The warrior's angry voice trailed off as he recognized the statue she was kneeling before.

CC closed her eyes tightly, gritting her teeth. Deliberately ignoring him, she kept her head bowed. Her lips moved silently as she recited to herself as much of the rosary as she knew. What she didn't know she ad-libbed, sending a silent plea for forgiveness to the Virgin/goddess for the unintentional blasphemy. She took her time finishing, before genuflecting deliberately and slowly. Then she glanced up at the knight who was still standing at her side and blinked her eyes in pretended surprise.

“Oh, Andras!” She held out her hand and automatically he helped her to her feet. “I'm sorry. I was so lost in prayer that I didn't even know you were there.” She looked around at the empty chapel and painted a concerned frown on her face. “Is mass over? I wish I hadn't missed the end of it, but when I noticed this wonderful statue of the Virgin Mother, I felt compelled to come to her.”

Andras's expression said he was torn between his desire to reprimand her for once again doing the unexpected and his pleasure at her decidedly Catholic piety.

“I am just surprised. I have never before noticed this statue of the Virgin.”

“No wonder.” CC didn't hide the irritation in her voice. “She looks like she's been abandoned!” CC leaned forward and pulled a cobweb from Mary's head. “It is disgraceful that the Blessed Mother is in such a state! I intend to speak with Abbot William about it.”

Andras seemed to be having trouble forming his thoughts into words, but he finally cleared his throat and asked, “May I escort you to dinner, Princess?”

CC took his offered arm. “That would be nice. Thank you, Sir Andras.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

DINNER was already being served when CC and Andras entered the dining room. CC tried to ignore the frowning looks the monks shot her, but she felt a little like an errant Catholic schoolgirl who was being sent to the headmaster's office. Obviously, she was in trouble for missing communion.

CC struggled to keep her expression neutral as Abbot William stood and greeted Andras with effusive warmth, offering the knight his ring, which Andras kissed without hesitation. Although he ignored her, CC curtseyed respectfully to the priest before taking her seat.

A servant hustled over and filled her plate with a steaming lamb stew that made CC's mouth water. Another servant topped off her goblet with sweet white wine. CC drank deeply, enjoying the cool liquid.

“I noticed you refused to take Holy Communion, Princess Undine.” The priest's voice was a whip.

CC furrowed her brow in confusion. “Refused? Why would I refuse Holy Communion, Abbot?” She shook her head. “I'm sorry you misunderstand. I discovered a beautiful statue of the Holy Mother, and I was simply overcome with emotion when I noticed its state of disrepair.” CC met his cold gaze evenly, and she made sure her voice carried. “I know how busy you must be, Abbot, so I am sure you had no idea that the Mother of God was being neglected.”

The priest's face darkened, and his jaw clenched.

CC squeezed Andras's arm and smiled up at him. “I knew the abbot didn't realize the awful state of that statue.”

“It was indeed fortuitous that you noticed it,” Andras said.

CC brightened her face and laughed girlishly. “I have an idea! I will take special charge of the Blessed Mother's statue. While I'm here, it will be lovingly tended and restored to its original glory.”

When Abbot William started to speak, her brilliant smile silenced him.

“There is no need to thank me.” She beamed. Then CC deliberately mimicked the words he'd spoken to her the day before. “For this I seek a reward that cannot be found in this world.”

The priest's eyes narrowed, but his lips smiled. “Of course, Princess. That is very”—he hesitated as if choosing his words carefully—“generous of you.”

“I have noticed that there aren't many women here, so I suppose it's not surprising that the Holy Mother has been accidentally neglected.” She looked at Andras and widened her eyes. “Maybe that's my purpose in coming here. Maybe the Holy Mother guided me to this shore, not just to save me, but to save her statue.” And, she added silently, maybe if the knight believed she had been specially blessed by the Virgin, he would be less inclined to seduction and more inclined to respect.

Andras looked impressed. “Yes, Undine. I am quite certain the Holy Mother is watching over you.”

The priest's voice sliced across the table. “It is good for a person to know one's purpose.”

CC studied him over her goblet. “I agree completely with you, Abbot William.”

The look the priest sent her was clearly adversarial. She met it with a forced smile.

“Father, I have been considering the move that lead to my check-mate last evening . . .” Andras began, oblivious to the tension between his old teacher and the woman at his side.

As the abbot's attention shifted from her, CC suppressed a sigh of relief and concentrated on her second helping of stew. She needed food to ground her and to stop her head from reeling. So many things had happened in such a short amount of time. Despite the confidence Gaea showed in her, she felt a little like the Dutch boy who'd tried to stop the leak in the dike with his finger. And her medieval dike was feeling very, very leaky. Little wonder she was overwhelmed. She'd traveled a thousand years into a mythical past, exchanged bodies with a sea creature, met a goddess, kissed a merman . . . CC's stomach butterflied at the thought and she had to remind herself to chew.

Now she had to deal with the obvious hatred of a powerful abbot and the amorous attentions of an incredibly handsome, macho knight. And, of course, there was Sarpedon. CC thought about the goddess's words that day in the garden and again scolded herself that she hadn't thought to mention Sarpedon's manifestation earlier in their conversation. But she had received her answer in the chapel. Sarpedon couldn't possess her as long as she was under Gaea's protection. With one hand she absently fingered the amber amulet. She must be careful to stay near land, even when she reverted to her mermaid body, no matter how alluringly the sea called.

Her quiet contemplation was broken by the noisy clanging of boots against the floor of the dining hall. CC looked up to see one of Andras's men quickly approaching their table. He stopped and bowed sharply to the knight.

“Forgive me for interrupting you, Sir Andras.”

“Gilbert, have you news of Princess Undine's family?” Andras asked.

CC held her breath.

“No, Sir Andras.” The squire glanced around the room and lowered his voice, obviously reluctant to speak further. “I do have a message for you from the mainland.”

Andras looked apologetically at Abbot William and CC.

“I regret I must ask you to excuse me.”

“Of course, my son, we would not think of keeping you from your rightful duties.” The abbot fluttered his fingers in the direction of the exit.

“I should not be long detained.” Andras stood and bowed to them. He and the squire hurried from the room.

The knight's absence left a definite hole in the conversation, which the abbot filled with chilly indifference. Except for an occasional disdainful glance, he pretended CC didn't exist.

CC kept her eyes averted from him and tried to focus on finishing the delicious mutton stew. She wouldn't allow him the pleasure of seeing her bolt through her meal and rush from the room like a terrified child. She remembered his reaction to her fear when she had seen the specter of Sarpedon. Fear fed the priest.

She chewed slowly and sipped her wine. She had been in difficult situations before. Like the time she was a young two-striper and the noncommissioned officer in charge of the Comm Center had come down with a violent stomach flu, thirty minutes before he was to give an instructional briefing on changing procedures for their newly installed computer system. Between dry heaves he had ordered CC to give the briefing. Two hundred people had filled the base briefing room that day, and she was pretty sure that one hundred and ninety-seven of them had outranked her. She'd done fine. No, she'd done better than fine; she'd been awarded a commendation for her ability to perform under pressure.

She wasn't a shrinking flower easily intimidated by powerful men. She wouldn't let him see her fear. No, as before, she'd do better than that. She wouldn't let one mean-spirited priest intimidate her. Gaea had told her that he should be pitied, and it was ridiculous to be intimidated by someone she should feel sorry for.

Eventually her stew bowl was empty and her stomach was pleasantly full, and CC couldn't stifle a yawn. This time when she felt the priest's censoring gaze she met it.

“I'm going to have to ask you to excuse me, Abbot William. The day has exhausted me, and I'm afraid I won't be able to wait for Sir Andras to return. Could you please give him my apology and tell Isabel that there is no need for her to come to me until morning? I know how busy she is.”