揟hat抯 an odd question.?
揂nd a full explanation also falls into the category of not now, later.?
She smiled. 揑 get it. And, yes, the convent is located on the north part of town. It抯 a retirement home for the members of that order. They do some volunteer work throughout Ghent. I met one of them.?
揙lder women??
She nodded.
揂nyone named Claire??
He could see her mind was working, assimilating the bits and pieces he was tossing out, trying to make sense of them.
She shook her head. 揘o one by that name.?
He抎 probed about as far as he wanted to go for the moment. 揑抣l be back in half an hour or so.?
揥hat are you going to do??she asked him.
揟hrow what little weight I have around.?
Chapter 13
Claire realized that the intruder had escaped. She抎 found an open sash on the second floor and assumed he抎 used the outer ledge to make his way to the trees, then down to the ground. That suggested a level of training and nerve, especially given the fact that the man had brazenly invaded a convent. A professional? The police? Or something else? What had been a partial success had now turned into a total failure with one person missing in action.
This was perhaps the most difficult thing she抎 ever faced. But adversity was not something she ever shied away from. Growing up Black in Louisiana had come with a whole host of challenges. She抎 never been a political activist, but she had been mindful of her rights, facing down her share of ignorance, hate, and racism. The world was full of good and bad. In the convent race meant little to nothing. The maidens came from all walks of life and every corner of the globe. Each was special. Chosen. Then trained. Sure, there抎 been challenges here and there. Nuisances that had required some correction. But nothing on this magnitude. Of course, the altarpiece had always represented the greatest threat. That was why the maidens?retirement community had been based in Ghent for over three hundred years, providing ready eyes and ears nearby.
Just in case.
She抎 learned that being a maiden meant making a conscious choice to live outside normality, in a private world that totally influenced your entire life. Some religious orders were cloistered away, apart from the world. Hers cast the appearance of such, but in reality they surreptitiously engaged humanity on a daily basis. Being a Maiden of Saint-Michael came with challenges not faced by any other religious order. There were thousands of abbeys and convents. Some quite famous, like the Carmelites. Others not so much. Each had their own mission and purpose, usually reflected in their creation and history. All of them involved an oath to celibacy, poverty, and a total commitment to God. The maidens swore a fourth pledge. Veritas Vita.
The truth, the life.
The cursed Jan van Eyck, who created the Ghent Altarpiece with his skillful brush and cunning mind, even added those words to the lappets on the main altar of the center panel. Thankfully, in nearly six hundred years, only a precious few had ever grasped their significance. And now, with the twelfth panel抯 destruction, any chance of that ever happening again had been made that much harder. The original was gone. No images of it existed anywhere else in the world except, if their intel was to be believed, on Sister Deal抯 laptop.
Which was now back in play.
Time had taught her how to live and work among a collective with little privacy, pooled resources, no intimacy, and a total setting aside of all personal needs for the good of others. Most initiates, like herself years ago, had led meaningful but uneventful lives. Suddenly finding yourself confined inside a closed space, with strangers of varying nationalities and ages, could definitely be overwhelming. Most adapted. Some never did and left before taking their final vows. A lack of personal choice was not for everyone. But she抎 found a certain degree of freedom in submission. Decisions and concerns that had once been part of her everyday life no longer mattered. You had to give up something to get something. And, for her, what she抎 gained was a great inner peace.
Daily life for most of the maidens was a combination of prayer and routine. Everyone had a role. Some cleaned rooms. Others worked the gardens, or cooked meals, or washed clothes. A few rose to administrative duties, keeping the books, paying bills, answering correspondence. All participated in the convent抯 social calling of working with the poor, the disadvantaged, the sick, and the mentally ill. All also served as guardians. Some in the field, the rest at the motherhouse. Individual desires were cast aside for a singular higher principle.
Veritas Vita.
The truth, the life.
Which, for them, carried a great meaning.
The responsibility for making all of that happen lay squarely within each individual maiden, as Sister Rachel had unselfishly proven. To be sure that no one ever faltered, once a year each maiden drafted a statement, expressing a clear desire to continue with the order. If that wasn抰 possible, any of the women could freely move to another convent or return to secular life.