Disclaimers in Part 1 Thanks to DK & M (as opposed to DKNY -- *groan*) for help w/ my awkward French and, as always, thanks to Viv for the bril beta work.
Whew! Now, on to our story.....
Whatever reasons she thought she had on that day when she joined the Order seemed as muddied to her as the galoshes that she now wore on her feet. A work apron covered her habit and in her gloved hand she held an old shovel-- the wood worn with age, the blade covered in bits of grass and dirt.
The field stretched out before her and from where she stood, she could see the veiled forms of her fellow Sisters working along the trees and small plots that criss-crossed the land within the abbey grounds. She could see the rooftops of Ormarc in the distance, as well as the castle perched upon the hill, and the mountains beyond. She paused from her labor, leaned against the shovel, and wiped the sweat from her face. She stared at the dark figures moving between the rows of trees and felt a pang of uneasiness. It was as if some part of her had fallen asleep-- had been dormant-- and for some unknown reason, had suddenly awakened and wondered why she was there. Her brow furrowed behind her wimple at the sensation. When did that sense of restlessness begin to take root in the quiet of her soul? When did she begin to feel less content? When did the hours seem to stretch and take on the guise of tedium? A vision of a blonde head bent in study flashed through her mind and she tried to push the image aside.
She took a breath; her lungs filled with the scent of newly turned earth and rain. She shook her head, adjusted her heavy work gloves, and thrust the blade deep into the dark, rich soil, hoping that the physical labor would purge her mind. She doubled her efforts, as if the very act of digging and tilling would bury the doubts and questions that crowded her mind, would focus her thoughts to work, to prayer, and to God. Intent on her task, she missed the call to the noon Office and was startled when a fellow religious informed her that the hour of sext was upon them and they must hurry to chapel for prayer.
---
Present day, a palatial home near the mountains of Ormarc (Midi Pyrenees), France
Well, here goes nothing, she thought as her wet boots squeaked against the wood floor of the front hall. Her gaze locked onto the butler, who walked at a dignified and squeakless pace ahead of her. She felt her stomach clench, sure that she looked more like a nervous drowned rat than a scholar. She tried not to gawk, tried not to appear over-awed as the butler bowed, gestured to a chair, and informed her that the Lady d'Ormarc would join her shortly. She ran a hand through her hair and expelled a soft breath as she looked around the study. It looks almost spartan, in an elegant sort of way. Not exactly what I had pictured. At the far end of the study an enormous fireplace occupied one corner, while books lined a nearby wall and a large bay window occupied the other, revealing a breath-taking view of the nearby mountains and castle.
It had taken weeks to arrange a meeting with Lady Thisbe and she hoped that the afternoon would prove to be fruitful. Take a deep breath. No need to be nervous. She abruptly walked to the window. Please don't let this be some sort of bizarre hoax. There must be some connection between that mystery cathedral, Chrétien d'Ormarc, this Alexandra person, and the troubadour Gabrielle. And where in the world does an ancient Greek woman warrior fit in with all of this? Oh God, I must be going insane. When I tell Lady Thisbe what I've found, she's probably going to throw me out of her house and sue me for slandering her family name--
"Mademoiselle Morrison, permettez-moi de vous présenter La Dame d'Ormarc, La Countesse Thisbe."
She turned and found the butler gesturing to a middle-aged woman slightly taller than herself. The aging butler bowed slightly before leaving the room as the auburn-haired woman walked toward the scholar, a hand outstretched in greeting. "C'est un plaisir de vous finalement rencontrer, Mademoiselle."
Gwen gave a small curtsey and shook the Countess' hand. "C'est tout un honneur de vous rencontrer. Je vous remercie de m'avoir accordé cette chance."
Lady Thisbe gestured to the large desk and chairs by the fireplace. "You mentioned that you had been doing some research at the convent of St. Marie?"
Gwen nodded as she sat down. "Yes. I've been working there for the past few months as well as others places in and around Ormarc--"
--
Present day, St. Marie d'Ormarc Abbey, Ormarc (Midi Pyrenees), France
She frowned at the book in her hand when she realized that she had forgotten where to place the volume on the shelves. She came to a stop in the middle of the small room that housed the convent's books, stared at the volumes that lined one wall of the brightly lit space, and felt a sense of disembodiment and confusion running through her veiled frame. She stood for several minutes, her eyes straight ahead, but seeing nothing. It was only after hearing her name called from across the room that she finally came to herself. She turned to see the Reverend Mother, a look of concern flashing in her brown eyes, standing by the doorway.
"Reverend Mother." She walked quickly to where the nun stood, bowed her head, took the other woman's right hand, placed a kiss against the woman's knuckles and gently touched the hand against her own forehead. As she moved away from the older woman, Sister Augustine realized that she still held the book in her left hand. She sighed softly as she regarded the older woman. "May I be of help, Reverend Mother?"
The older nun placed her hands inside the billowing black sleeves of her habit as she walked into the room. She remained silent as she made a slow circuit around the room, finally stopping by a small window that yielded a view of the town and mountains. The taller nun stood silently, her head down as she held the book against her chest. The Reverend Mother turned and regarded the other nun. She spoke gently.
"How many years has it been since you came to the Abbey, Augustine?"
"Almost ten years, Reverend Mother. I was twenty when I took my vows."
"And have you been happy here?"
The dark head lifted to regard the older woman by the window and the younger nun's brow furrowed in confusion behind her wimple. "I-- I don't understand, Mother. Have I done something to-- to -- something inappropriate in my service?"
"No--no." The older nun gestured to the air as she turned back to gaze out the window. "You have done nothing wrong, Sister. I'm not here to reprimand you. But I have noticed over the past few weeks that you seemed distracted, unhappy. Is there something wrong? Have you been ill and did not tell me?"
"No, Reverend Mother. I'm fine. I haven't been ill. I-- I--"
The older woman turned to regard the nun. " I do know something of your life before you came to us. Have your thoughts returned to that time? Your family has never contacted you in the entire time you've been here. Is that what troubles you, my child?"
Sister Augustine turned away from the woman by the window. "No, Reverend Mother. I don't expect them to-- to wish-- My mother didn't approve of my vocation and the others…no…. My life is here. This is my home. I rarely think of that life. My -- my life is here. I am happy here. Perhaps, I've just been tired, fatigued--perhaps it's just the change of seasons, like Sister Matthew's allergies bothering her during the fall harvest."
The Reverend Mother regarded the tall woman quietly. "Yes. Perhaps." She turned to the window and continued to walk around the tiny library. She slowed fractionally as she reached the bookshelves, her eyes tracing the volumes as her fingers quietly ran over the spines of the texts. She spoke haltingly, carefully. "Have you and Dr. Morrison made much progress on her research?"
The younger nun turned, watching as the Reverend Mother ran her fingers along the shelves. Suddenly, her throat felt dry and she tried to clear it discreetly before answering. "Yes. Gwe--Dr. Morrison-- believes that she may have found something. In fact, she's visiting with Lady Thisbe to discuss what she has found."
The older woman stopped as she reached the doorway of the library. She turned to regard Sister Augustine and nodded, as if finally coming to a decision. "Good. I am pleased that you've been a help to her. I also wanted to assure you that if there is something that you wish to speak of, I am here-- not just as the head of the Order, but as your friend. If-- if it is some sort of illness, let me know. We'll send for the doctor or I can give you permission to go into town or permission to travel to Toulouse, if necessary."
Sister Augustine bowed towards the nun by the door. "Thank you, Reverend Mother, for your concern and generosity. I'm sure that it's nothing."
The Reverend Mother nodded softly. "A good afternoon, then Sister Augustine. I'll leave you to your work. God go with you, my child."
The younger nun walked to where the older woman stood and grasped her outstretched right hand, repeating the blessing ritual. "Thank you, Mother. And may God go with you."
---
Two weeks later, one of the larger hills overlooking the town of Ormarc, (Midi Pyrenees) France
"It was very kind of the Reverend Mother to let you accompany me into the hills, Sister Augustine."
The nun gestured to the surrounding countryside. "The Sisters of my Order know these hills. We gather plants and other materials as dye for the wool we sell in the shops at Ormarc. You can easily become lost if you aren't familiar with the surrounding area."
The scholar chuckled. "Well, in that case, I'm beyond grateful that you're here. I'm afraid that I'm not exactly well known for my keen sense of direction, although my sister was the one who got lost in the Natural History Museum."
"When you were both children?"
Gwen smiled and shook her head. "No, actually I was nineteen. Lilla was twenty-two. I tease her mercilessly about it. I told her to meet me next to the mastodon, but I guess she zigged when she should have zagged. And it was sort of lucky that she did get lost."
Sister Augustine pointed to the right. "Over there, just to the right of us. It's probably the best view of the valley."
Several minutes passed as they walked toward the ridge.
"What do you mean that she was lucky to have gotten lost?"
"It was how she met Joshua. I think he was interning at the museum at the time or had just finished an interview with the curator. I suppose if she hadn't met him, she would still be wandering through the grounds to this day."
Both women trudged on in silence until they reached a summit overlooking the town and valley below. Gwen ran a hand through her hair and expelled a soft breath as her eyes surveyed the view. "Wow, what a climb." She grinned at the nun beside her. "This is perfect, Sister. You can see the town quite clearly."
The nun gestured to the horizon. "Those clouds may move into this area in a few hours. I think it's best if we get started."
Gwen unslung her backpack and took out a camera and telephoto lens. She fiddled with the camera for several minutes, finally looking through the viewfinder. "The ideal situation would have involved riding in a helicopter and getting aerial shots of Ormarc, but I think this may confirm my hunch about our missing cathedral."
--
"Ow! Oh, for fuck's sake--"
Sister Augustine turned to see the blonde sprawled on the ground clutching her right ankle. She hurried to the injured woman, knelt beside her and gingerly cradled the ankle.
Gwen winced. "I -- ow-- I think I tripped on a root or -- I think it's sprained." And if you were paying ATTENTION to where you were going instead of … "Oh no."
Both women looked up at the sky as drops of rain began to fall.
"Put your arms around me."
"Excuse me? " Gwen blinked. I've been fantasizing about you saying something like that, but I never would have pictured this. "Uh, Sister, not that I don't have the utmost faith in your abilities, but I'm not sure you can carry me all the way back to the main road."
"I'm not."
Oh. "Oh. Then what are you--" going to do, take me here in the middle of nowhere in the soon-to-be-pouring rain? Gwen groaned softly as the nun helped her from her position on the ground.
"Lean against me. I'll help you walk. The shepherds have emergency sheds in these hills in case they can't make it back to their homes during rainstorms. There's one not far from here. We can probably get there before the worst of the rain hits."
They began to make their way through the small shrubs and clusters of wind-twisted trees that dotted the hillside.
--
"It's not exactly the Ritz-Carlton, but at least we're dry."
Gwen looked up to see the nun busily preparing a fire in a small hearth at the far corner of the shed. "I think the word 'dry' is a relative term, Sister. Besides, I think you got the worst of it."
The room wasn't much bigger than the cells in the convent dormitory and within minutes, a fire burned cheerily that warmed the small space. Sister Augustine turned to regard the woman sitting in a small chair-- the blonde's right leg was propped up against a wood crate.
"Are you in pain?"
"Uh-- it feels numb, actually. Sort of a dull ache."
The nun walked over and gestured to the crate. "May I?"
Gwen simply nodded and watched as Sister Augustine gently lifted the injured foot, sat on the crate, and placed the foot onto her lap. The nun began to untie her hiking boot.
"Uh, I'm sure it's fine, Sister--"
The nun shook her veiled head. "Let me at least take a look at it and make you more comfortable."
That's what's worrying me. If I get any more "comfortable" we're both gonna be in big trouble. "N-no, really. I'm fine. Besides," Gwen tried to pull her foot from the nun's gentle grasp. "You must be freezing. You're soaked. You need to get out of those wet clothes" --out of the frying pan, Morrison-- "and into something dry. I--I brought a sweater in my backpack. Please, I don't want you to catch pneumonia."
Sister Augustine looked down at the unlaced boot on her lap. "Well, I suppose that it would be of no use if we were both incapacitated in one way or another." She sighed softly, gently placed the injured foot on the wooden crate, and stood up.
"That's my girl--er, I--I --uh-- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so--er -- I --uh--" Gwen blushed and looked down.
Sister Augustine reached for the scholar's backpack. "That's quite all right, Gwen."
Gwen closed her eyes and kept her head down, fighting the urge to peek as Sister Augustine changed into the spare sweater. She heard a soft chuckle and felt a hand lift her injured leg. She finally dared to raise her head and saw Sister Augustine gently removing the hiking boot. The dark blue cardigan was too small for the nun -- her arms stuck out from the too-short sleeves and the fabric clung tightly around the white floor-length short-sleeve tunic that she wore. Gwen cleared her throat. "I-- I guess it's a little snug," the scholar said sheepishly.
Sister Augustine smiled. "It is a little tight. But I haven't worn anything except my habit in a very long time and it's--" The nun shrugged. "Well, my clothes should be dry in an hour or so." Her eyes looked down to the stockinged foot in her lap. "This may hurt a little."
The blonde winced as Sister Augustine carefully removed the sock from her foot. The nun's hand gently went over the slightly swollen ankle.
"So I guess this solves one of the mysteries of the ages then."
The nun's eyebrow shot up. "Oh?"
Gwen's face broke out into a smile as she gestured to Sister Augustine's hair--black, slightly damp tendrils that barely went past the woman's chin.
A mischievous grin fluttered over the nun's features. She touched her bare head. "I trust that you'll take that knowledge with you to the grave."
The scholar nodded solemnly. "Not a word shall pass from these lips."
Sister Augustine's face quirked into a small shy smile. "Good. Well, the ankle doesn't appear to be broken. You may have just bruised it. There's a doctor in the town. When the rain stops, we should drop by his office before we head back to the convent."
Gwen watched as the nun began to tear a rag into long strips.
"I found these near the hearth," Sister Augustine said as she began to bind Gwen's ankle with the strips of cloth. "It may help a bit."
Gwen exhaled softly as the nun finished binding the injury. "Mmm. Feels better."
"So what other mysteries shall we discuss in the meantime?"
Their eyes met.
The scholar swallowed audibly. "Uh--" Mayday, mayday. Houston, we have a problem. "I -- um-- I'm not sure that a shepherd's shed is very conducive to discussing the mysteries of the universe, especially in the middle of a thunderstorm."
The nun laughed softly. "That's too bad. I was about to ask whether, as a medievalist, you had the definitive answer to how many angels would fit onto the head of a pin."
--
She looked out of the tiny window and pulled at the sleeves that covered her arms. It was still raining. I feel so naked wearing this. She tugged at the cloth and then frowned. I'm destroying Gwen's sweater. Her hands idly caressed the fabric. It's so soft, like a kitten's fur. Of course, anything's better than that rough wool. She frowned again and turned away from the window. Her eyes fell upon the scholar. The woman had taken the camera out of her pack and was now looking through the viewfinder to the small hearth across the room. How the light plays with her hair -- like looking at spun gold. How lovely she is. How very beautiful. She blinked suddenly, jerking her head toward the small hearth.
Gwen raised her head from the camera. "Sister? Are you all right?"
She nodded as she walked to the fire. "Yes, I'm fine." Delay not, O Blesséd Lady, to help me whenever I call on Thee, for, in all my needs, in all my temptations-- Her hands grasped the line where her drying veil, wimple and habit hung by the fire. I shall never cease to call on Thee, ever repeating Thy sacred name--
"Are they dry yet?"
She shook her head, her back towards the blonde. "No, still damp." She closed her eyes. O what consolation, what sweetness, what confidence, what emotion fill my soul when I pronounce Thy sacred name, or even only think of Thee--
"Are you sure you're all right?"
She turned a soft smile on her face, her eyes unreadable. "Yes, I'm fine."
The scholar peered closer. "Are you sure you're not coming down with a fever? You look kinda flushed."
Sister Augustine shook her head and bowed slightly as she grasped her hands together. "Thank you for your concern, Gwen. I'm fine, really. It's just the heat from the fire."
Gwen nodded and motioned to the crate in front of her. "Well, if you're sure you're all right. Please--"
The nun sat down on the wood crate and watched as the woman fiddled with the camera lens.
"I think I may have some film left." Gwen smiled as she moved the camera from her eyes. "Would--would you let me take a picture of you? I promise that the camera won't steal your soul."
She laughed at the feeble joke. The Reverend Mother would never approve. But-- "Yes, all right. Please, go ahead and take my picture." You've already taken my heart, without even knowing it. I didn't know it. Not until today. I would be happy to give you this small part of myself, if only this. I -- I don't know if I can choose, if I'm strong enough to make a choice between you and God, Brangein Gwenhwyfar Morrison-- But I think part of me would give my soul, my life to you if you'd ask.