The Omega Factor(101)
“It’s over.”
Nick could feel the tension. The maidens were clearly divided. The older woman, most likely the abbess, seemed caught off guard by Sister Claire’s, and the other maidens’, reversal. Concern filled the faces of Sisters Ellen and Isabel who, along with a few others, had not voted yes. An overwhelming majority of the maidens, though, seemed intent on giving Fuentes what he wanted.
“Abbess,” one of the maidens said, “we tried to explain ourselves to you, to change your mind, but you would not listen. You went ahead with that reckless move in Ghent. I stand with the Vestal. This is no longer worth dying for and has to end.”
“This is something we should discuss among ourselves,” the abbess declared. “Outside the presence of strangers.”
“That’s not possible,” Claire said, voice rising. “Do you think they’re going away? They’re just going to walk out of here while we debate the point? There’s nothing more to discuss. They came for the chapel. I’m going to give it to them.”
Many of the other women nodded in agreement.
There seemed a clear consensus.
On rebellion.
Kelsey felt the deep resentment that had seeped into the room like a creeping vine. She’d never before witnessed such opposition to a convent’s central authority. Her own order was run like all of the others with power centered at the top. It was a democracy only to the point that the sisters freely chose their leader. But, once done, that leader’s rule was absolute. Certainly, through the centuries, there’d been revolts and coups to priors and abbesses. But that had been long ago. In another time and place. Nothing of any recent vintage, nor would that ever be tolerated. The vow of obedience she’d taken to join the Congregation of Saint-Luke commanded her to imitate Christ and obey her lawful superiors.
Without question.
She looked at Sister Claire. “You’re a disgrace.”
“I’m complying with the lawful representative of the Holy Father. Our pope.”
A few of the other maidens voiced their agreement.
“We’re all servants of him,” Claire said. “His word takes precedent over the abbess. And it is not for me to question that authority.”
Kelsey faced Fuentes. “Are you here for the pope?”
The cardinal nodded. “I have a standing order to seek out les Vautours, as every head of the pontifical commission before me was given.”
Not exactly an answer.
“Sister Deal,” Claire made clear, “this does not concern you.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Another example of me blindly obeying.” Claire pointed at the abbess. “She wanted you here. Not me. As far as I’m concerned you should leave.”
“She is right,” Fuentes said. “This does not concern you. But you will not be leaving. Not just yet. Now, sister—what is your name?”
“Claire.”
“Sister Claire, please take me to the chapel.”
Chapter 67
Vilamur opened his eyes and immediately felt a throbbing in his head. He brushed away the cobwebs sticking to his brain and remembered. He’d taken a punch in the face. Out of nowhere. The blow had knocked him out. He’d been on the road, heading back down to ground level.
But now he was somewhere else.
An unrelenting breeze chafed his face and helped revive him. He was lying supine facing blue sky overhead. He brought a hand to his jaw and slowly worked the bone and muscle.
Nothing seemed broken.
He pushed himself up and saw he was lying about two meters away from the edge of a cliff. Beyond was open air with a commanding view of far-off peaks in sharp relief against the clear sky, a colorful valley of trees and meadows in between. The drop down was a hundred meters or more to rushing water. He shook off the dizziness in his head and managed to rise, turning to see a younger man standing a few meters away.
A face he recognized.
“You were at Montségur yesterday,” he said in English.
“Where is Bernat de Foix?”
“I know nothing.”
“You will tell me where he is, or I will shove you off that cliff.”
The threat was concerning, considering the younger man had a clear advantage of age, muscle, and bulk. Maybe forty years separated them. And though the arthritis in his hands was not so bad, his knees were much worse. He doubted he could take him. And he was far too close to the cliff edge. But he could not tell his captor anything even remotely close to the truth. So he decided to divert the conversation. “You were there, yesterday, when I met with de Foix. Are you part of what he’s doing to me?”
“If that means exposing your lies and deceit then, yes, I am part of that.”
Not good. But he had to maintain the façade he’d so carefully crafted.
“God’s holy word teaches us to reject all fleshly desire and all uncleanness,” the young man said. “We are to do the will of God by rejecting the desires of the flesh and doing good, despite the unworthy servants that we are.”
Now he understood. “You’re Cathar too?”
“I am.”
A clammy, tight band of anxiety nearly suffocated him. The danger here had just multiplied. So he summoned up his best pastoral voice and asked, “What is your name?”