揙ur motherhouse,?Isabel said.
She抎 seen it before.
Everything minus the white cherry tree out front in bloom. Though there抎 been additions, the basic structure was the same as what had been painted in the fifteenth century on the altarpiece.
The building Jan van Eyck had pointed toward.
And the number of her questions?
Just multiplied.
Chapter 57
Claire knelt on the crypt抯 hard stone floor.
She抎 arrived back with Sister Rachel about two hours ago. The maidens had reverently carried the corpse from the car to the abbey. Usually the entombment of a deceased maiden involved two days of prayer and mourning. But they did not have the luxury of time.
So everything was accelerated.
What had happened dated back to the beginning, the same ritual performed on every maiden. The naked corpse was laid onto a long oak table. Two maidens held a dark cloth stretched above the body, while two others washed the flesh with sponges. They carried out their task with great respect and reverence, without looking down, as the cloth held over the body respectfully hid the corpse from view. A fifth maiden wrung out the sponges in a bowl, then dipped them into fresh water. The body, once wrapped in a white linen shroud, was dressed in a freshly pressed gray smock, a veil set in the hair. Then the body was placed into a coffin made of wicker. On the breast was laid a wreath of white, red, and sky-blue flowers, as had been done long ago with the first maiden. The coffin was brought down below the abbey into the church. The space was one of the oldest on the site, first dug from the surrounding rock and soil over a thousand years ago. Huge stone pillars, like tree trunks with branching arms, lost themselves in the shadowy canopy overhead. A series of low vaults and arches, each about three yards high, broke the space up into sections. There was no decoration, no frescoes, sculptures, or stained glass.
All of the other maidens had now gathered, on their knees, heads bent in prayer, a collective silence bonding them together. After a few moments the abbess began, and the others joined, in singing the Ave Maria. Not Sir Walter Scott抯 original words scored for piano by Schubert, but the lyrics that came straight from an ancient prayer.
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners,
now, and at the hour of our death.
The soulful melody made her heart swell.
Something about the soothing notes drew her closer to God. She never tired of hearing it sung, but wished it was under better circumstances. Twenty-one of the twenty-six maidens were back at the motherhouse, including Rachel who would soon be interred deep within the earth. Only five maidens were not present. Two were assigned lookout duty on the main northern entrance, one watching the car park and pedestrian road, the other the rear that accommodated their own vehicles, where the stolen Volvo she抎 taken from Nick Lee sat parked. Two more were off-site, returning with Sister Deal.
Tours and public access had been canceled for the next few days. No reason was given, as none was required. This was private property, and it was a privilege for anyone to be allowed inside. The last time a threat of this magnitude occurred was late 1944, when the Nazis rolled through. For most of the war the Languedoc had been part of Vichy France, unoccupied by the German invaders. But toward the end Hitler took control of southern France and resistance activity soared. Les Vautours had done their part, trying to undermine the concentration camp at Rivesaltes, near Perpignan, with four maidens dying in the effort.
The abbess knelt with her head bowed in prayer. Claire knew this had to be especially painful for her.
Losing a sister.
And on her orders.
She hadn抰 been in favor of the attack in Ghent, but followed her vow to obey her superior. If she抎 only been more careful and not allowed Nick Lee to track her they would not be in the mess they currently faced. So this was partly her fault too.
The song ended.
Silence reigned.
It was important that Rachel be laid to rest before the trouble began. She deserved that. Would the Dominicans come? Absolutely. No question. Since, for the first time, they knew exactly where to go. No more secrecy. No more guessing. All had been revealed.
The future of everything was on the line.
The abbess crossed herself and stood, stepping to the front of the underground chapel before the plain stone altar where Rachel lay in her wicker coffin. 揑t is important we speak as a group before we take our sister to her grave.?
Claire and the others looked up from their prayers. The abbess?face was a bland mask of concern, the eyes exuding a power, determination, and strength of purpose they抎 all come to expect. No fear. No doubt. Just resolve.