Goddess of the Sea (28 page)

“Oh!” she said with a delighted gasp. “Herbs! Isabel, look.” CC tiptoed carefully between the rows, then she bent and brushed her hand over the nearest plant. It had dark green leaves with slightly jagged edges. She inhaled deeply the wonderful scent. “Mint.” Her gaze shifted and she caressed other leaves. “And basil, cilantro and parsley.” She laughed. “No, I mean parsley and cilantro. It's easy to get the two mixed up.” She smiled up at Isabel who was staring at her in open surprise.

“You have knowledge of herbs?”

CC nodded. “Not as much as I wish I did, but I've always grown things. I love digging in the dirt and knowing that it was from my own efforts that the mint in my tea tastes so wonderful. Actually,” she paused, choosing her words carefully so that she wouldn't offend the old woman. “Have you ever thought about adding mint to your amazing stew? I think it would compliment the mutton very well.”

The old woman blinked owlishly.

“I didn't mean to offend you,” CC said quickly, worried at Isabel's silence. “Your stew is already the best I've ever tasted.”

“You have not offended me. You have surprised me. I believe I have been mistaken in my judgment of you, Undine, and when I am mistaken I do not dawdle about making corrections. I must ask that you forgive me.”

“There's nothing to forgive.” CC's smile reflected her pleasure at the old woman's words. “You didn't know me, and I didn't know you. Let's just call it a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding,” the old woman repeated. “I like that. I also like your idea for adding mint to my stew. Shall we harvest some?”

“Together.” CC grinned.

“Yes. Together.” Isabel returned the grin and the two women began breaking off the tops of the fragrant herb.

Isabel's apron was filled with mint, and she and CC were talking amiably about the many uses of cilantro when they entered the kitchen. The other three women looked up, surprise clearly showing on their aged faces.

Isabel dumped the mint on the nearest counter. Several tendrils of silver hair had escaped from her bun and they curled wildly around her face. She pushed them behind her ears and grinned, suddenly reminding CC of a young girl.

“Undine has given me a wonderful idea for the evening stew.” Isabel looked at each of the other women. “The princess is wise in the way of herbs.”

“Well, I wouldn't call it wise. I just like working with plants, and I like to use them in my own cooking,” CC said, a little embarrassed at Isabel's unexpectedly effusive praise.

“It is a wise woman who understands the ways of herbs,” the humpbacked lady spoke softly.

CC smiled at the old woman. “I like to work with my hands. It makes me feel good when I've finished something, and I know that it's a job well done.”

“Oh, you must see the Holy Mother!” Isabel exclaimed. “It is a miracle!”

“It is not a miracle,” the woman with the shriveled hand grumped. “It is plain to see that the princess simply took the filth from the Mother and placed it on herself!” Then she cackled uproariously at her own joke.

The other women were silent, looking at CC to see if she took offense.

“I still think it can still be classified as a miracle,” CC said seriously. “Have you ever known any reason for a
princess
to get this dirty, I mean, unless she was terribly clumsy and she fell off her knight's charger as he was whisking her away to their golden castle.” She placed the back of her mint-stained hand against her smudged forehead and attempted her own rendition of a princessly swoon.

Isabel chuckled. “Princess, I think you need to practice your swoon. It does not seem very . . .” She searched for a word.

“. . . believable.” The slack-faced woman finished for her, slurring the word slightly.

“Not believable!” CC pretended offense, pressing her hand against her heart. “You've wounded me!”

“Oh, posh,” the woman with the shriveled hand said. “You are too tough to be wounded so easily.”

CC smiled at them. “Well, perhaps the four of you would care to demonstrate for me a believable swoon?”

Four pairs of sparkling eyes looked at her, then at one another. Then mayhem broke loose as each old woman, amidst much laughter and sighing, staggered around the kitchen, demonstrating her own version of a believable swoon.

CC couldn't remember when she'd laughed so hard. She'd just fallen into a chair, holding her side and begging the women to stop, when a monk CC recognized as Brother Peter burst into the kitchen.

“What is happening in this room?” he yelled. Then he came to an abrupt halt when he noticed CC.

The women sobered instantly, and CC clearly saw fear flash in their eyes.

She stood quickly, addressing the monk in what she hoped was the snotty, imperious tone of royal command. “You are Brother Peter, aren't you?”

The monk nodded. “Yes, Princess.”

“As you can see by the filthy state of my garment, I have been cleaning the Virgin Mother's statue all day. It is tiresome, tedious work, and I needed some levity. Of course I didn't want to trouble any of the Holy Brothers, so I came looking for Isabel. I commanded that she and these other servants amuse me.” She wafted her hand absently in the direction of the frozen women. “I am finished being amused now.” She smiled graciously at the confused-looking monk. “Thank you for coming to check on me. Please give the abbot my regrets that I must miss mass this evening, but as you can see I am not dressed for vespers.” She turned her back on him dismissively.

“Yes, Princess,” he said and hurried from the room.

When she was sure he was gone she said to the women. “The monks don't have much fun, do they?”

The women slowly thawed, making scoffing sounds in their throats.

“It doesn't mean we can't,” CC said. The women threw her doubtful looks.

“Abbot William says mirth is sinful,” Isabel said, only this time her voice didn't sound smug, as it had the other times she had repeated the abbot's dictums to CC; this time she sounded tired and sad.

“How about what Jesus said?” CC asked, and all four pairs of eyes were instantly attentive. “He said, ‘Suffer the little children to come unto me.' Well, children, especially little children, laugh and play and have fun all the time. You'd think if happiness was some big sin, then Christ would have said something like, ‘Suffer the little children to shut up or I'll beat them and oppress them into heaven.' Wouldn't he?”

“You make an excellent point, Undine,” the woman with the shriveled handed said.

“What is your name?” Undine asked her.

“Lynelle,” she answered with a bright smile, showing lots of big, yellow teeth.

“And yours?” Undine asked the woman with the partially paralyzed face.

“Bronwyn,” she slurred.

“My name is Gwenyth,” the lady with the humpback volunteered before CC could ask.

“Ladies, it is a great honor to meet you. I am the Princess Undine Who Can't Remember Anymore Than Her Name,” CC said in her best imitation of a British queen. Her audience cackled appreciatively. Then she dropped into the bow of a prima ballerina—and almost fell face first onto the floor when her back foot caught in the hem of her robe.

Laughing, Isabel caught her. “Perhaps I should help you out of this robe.”

CC smiled at her. “And into something more queenly?”

“Of course,” Isabel said, mimicking CC's royal imitation. “After you, my lady.”

Both of them backed from the kitchen, waving royally at their laughing “subjects.”

“Is there any possible way I could take a bath?” CC asked as they made their way through the deserted dining room.

Isabel patted her hand. “Go to your room. I will get the tub. If you stand in it, I will pour the water over you.”

“Can I be naked?”

Isabel tried unsuccessfully to stifle a smile. “If you insist.”

“I insist,” CC said firmly.

“I do not actually leave my chemise on while I bathe,” the old woman admitted.

“I knew that,” CC said.

Isabel wrinkled her heavily lined forehead in surprise. “How did you know?”

CC sniffed in her direction. “You don't smell bad.”

CC could hear the old woman's chuckles long after she disappeared to fetch the tub.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CC'S stomach let out a very unladylike growl as Isabel finished lacing up her outer gown.

“Forgotten to eat, have you?” Isabel laughed.

“Please tell me there's some of your wonderful stew left.”

“For you, yes. After all, you are the one who thought of adding the mint.”

“It was good?”

“It was wonderful. I think Bronwyn was so impressed that she may even have saved you a loaf of her excellent bread.”

“That sounds great,” CC said as they hurried down the hall. “Do you think the monks will still be at evening mass? I'm really tired, and I'd rather not have to make conversation with the abbot and Andras.” The hard physical labor of cleaning and scrubbing all day coupled with the ever-present ache for the water had exhausted her, and the last thing CC needed was to spar with the abbot or fend off Andras's attempts at courtship.

CC could feel Isabel's gaze. When she spoke, the old woman's voice sounded wise. “It is obvious that you and the abbot dislike one another, which is certainly no surprise. Abbot William disapproves of beauty, and you are beauty personified. Even I judged you harshly because of your appearance.”

CC started to say something, but Isabel shook her head, not wanting to be interrupted. “No, do not excuse me. I am old enough to recognize when my behavior is foolish. So that explains why you would have hard feelings for the abbot, but I do not understand why you are not pleased by the attentions of Sir Andras. It seemed at first as if you enjoyed his company, but I have been observing the two of you. Of late it appears you are more often annoyed or distracted when you are with him than not.”

“I didn't think I was being so obvious.”

“It is only apparent when you are very tired.” Isabel smiled at her. “And perhaps only then to another woman.”

They began walking across the courtyard, and CC chewed her bottom lip, not sure how much she should admit to Isabel. She glanced at the silent well, but it looked like an ordinary pile of stone. Well, she thought, at least she's not asking me about that.

“Forgive me, Undine, if I have asked too personal a question,” Isabel said.

“No,” CC assured her. “I don't mind that you asked. I was just trying to figure out how best to answer you.” She sighed, and decided on telling her the truth—or at least as much of the truth as she could. Liars didn't make good friends, and CC very much wanted to be the old woman's friend. “You're right. At first I thought I might be able to care about him, maybe even love him. He seemed nice, and he's certainly handsome enough.”

Isabel made an appreciative noise and nodded.

“But the more time I've spent with him, and the better I've come to know him, the more obvious it is that he's not the man for me. It's not that he's a horrible guy or anything like that. It's not even really his fault. The truth is that he and I are mismatched.” CC bent her head to Isabel's and lowered her voice. “And this morning I overheard him talking to the abbot about me. They were discussing whether or not he should marry me and it sounded like they were considering buying a brood mare or a piece of property.”

Isabel raised her eyebrows. “And this surprised you, Undine?”

“Not really.” CC sighed. “But I would never marry a man who thought of me as his property.”

Isabel blinked slowly at her. “You must be from a land far away.”

“That's one thing we know for certain,” CC said firmly. “Another thing is that I'm sure that not all males think of women as property. Some of them are kind and respectful and consider us partners in life.” CC's voice softened as she thought of Dylan.

“So you love another?” The old woman's eyes twinkled, and CC couldn't help but smile in return.

“Whore!”
The word hissed through the air behind them.

Both women gasped and spun around to face Andras. The knight was wide-eyed and so unnaturally pale that he looked ghostly. His blond hair was in wild disarray, and his eyes flamed with an ominous silver light.

“Whore!”
he hissed.
“Do not think you have fooled us. We know what you really are. We know you are not pure. You have whored yourself and you will pay the price for your betrayal!”

CC shivered at the eerie sound of his words. They echoed from his mouth with an otherworldly force.
We?
Who was he talking about? Her thoughts raced through her mind as she glanced at the well. Hovering above it CC could see inky waves, like heat rising from the top of a sun-baked blacktop road.

“Go get help!” CC whispered frantically to Isabel.

“No! I will not leave you,” she whispered back. Then she made a shooing gesture at the knight and spoke sharply in the confident voice of an irritated grandmother, “Go on, Sir Andras, leave the Princess be. If the two of you have had a misunderstanding, there are other ways to solve it. I do not think the abbot would approve of your ungentlemanly words.”

The knight's eyes slitted as he answered Isabel.
“ Yes, we have had a misunderstanding.”
Snakelike, his glowing eyes shifted to Undine.
“One that can only be righted when we have been joined together. I will have what is mine by right!”