Dibra was hungry. She took a piece of lamb and ate it, hoping her irritation would subside. She didn’t want the nun around. Her humility was too annoying. And she worried for Luka’s safety. It was not like Villiam to send him out on some fool’s errand and have him killed, but the famine made people crazy. The bandits must be starving, too, she thought.
‘The nun dances,’ Villiam said to Dibra.
Marek pushed the plate of meat away and knocked over his cup of wine. It spilt onto the plate, washing the cuts of lamb so that the meat now sat in a pool of red.
‘Clumsy!’ Dibra screamed.
‘Now, now,’ the priest said, wiping his mouth piously with the cloth. ‘The heat has got everyone in a rage. Calm down, Dibra.’
Dibra sighed. Villiam lifted his cup again in absolution.
‘Marek, eat your meat.’
Marek picked up a piece of lamb.
‘Sister, sing us a song,’ Villiam said forgetfully.
‘No need to be cruel,’ Dibra said under her breath. ‘She’s mute, she’s not deaf.’
Agata turned pale now. She stood.
‘Is she leaving?’ Marek said. ‘Where is she going?’
‘Shush,’ Villiam said.
Agata turned her back to the table and stood in the darkness, just out of range of the glow of the candelabras. The four left at the table watched her figure, their faces glowing in the light. She could leave, she thought. She could starve and die. That would be fine, wouldn’t it?
‘She’s going to do something,’ Villiam said.
The priest sipped his wine, waiting for the entertainment to begin. He had never met Agata before. And he hadn’t requested anyone from the abbey in months. But good that the girl was here, for Villiam’s sake, he thought. Without a visitor to keep him happy once in a while, he got more and more demanding. Maybe Agata could do something really strange. Maybe she could make herself disappear. A few had come with the promise of such an act, but all they had done was throw smoke and run out. Maybe this nun was the real thing. Real magic. She did have a haunted kind of look about her. Her hands shook a bit when she’d sipped her wine, he’d noticed. Perhaps she would have a conniption. Barnabas had seen people go into fits before, but they usually fell on the ground and shook and had a look of terror in their eyes. He couldn’t imagine this nun doing that.
‘What’s she going to do?’ Marek asked.
‘She’s already doing it,’ Dibra answered.
‘What?’
‘Turning her back on us heathens,’ Dibra answered, chewing.
‘Sister, we are ready! Please, turn around, entertain us!’ Villiam said. He laughed and ripped his teeth into a chunk of lamb. ‘Sing!’ he cried and chewed.
Agata turned to them and opened her mouth as though something might come out. Of course she could sing. She could sing beautifully. But she could not sing with words.
‘Sing!’ Marek cried with curious exuberance, which was so uncharacteristic of the boy’s usual sheepishness that Villiam burst out laughing again. And then he began to choke.
‘Oh, no,’ Villiam coughed. He had sucked a chunk of lamb the wrong way down his throat. He gasped and turned red, but still laughed, banging his hand on the table as if that might dislodge the meat.
‘Villiam, spit it out!’ Dibra yelled across the table. Villiam shook his head violently, gripping his throat with his hands.
Father Barnabas got up and patted Villiam lamely on the back. ‘Out with it. No more games,’ he said.
Villiam wheezed and banged at the table. He tried to speak, but he had no breath.
‘Where are the servants?’ Dibra cried. ‘He’s choking to death.’
The priest hit him a bit harder but to no effect.
‘Enough, Villiam. Spit it out,’ the priest demanded calmly.
‘Spit, Villiam!’ Dibra screamed, lunging up from her seat toward him. Villiam waved his hands in the air, begging for help and dismissing it at once.
Dibra and the priest shook him, but he only gasped and shook them away. He stood and put his arms up above his head as though he were calling out to God. His eyes bulged. The priest and Dibra stood back, ready for him to fall down and die.
Just then, the nun came forward, three or four nimble steps—in her long habit, she appeared to be floating—and punched Villiam in the gut. He doubled over and coughed and spat the chunk of meat out onto the table. He wiped his eyes and cleared his throat, then sat down to catch his breath. Everyone returned to their seats at the table, stunned. The nun sat back down, too.