The Gathering Storm

Page 135

“Where is Teuda?” Obligatia asked.
“She is coming, Mother,” replied Hilaria. “She has seen to the prisoner, and gathered enough bread for everyone.”
“Help me stand,” said Obligatia.
With both Rosvita and Hilaria to support her, the old abbess was able to rise. She insisted on being helped to the bench, although the effort clearly taxed her. Sister Petra, still squeezing her hands anxiously and murmuring in an undertone, fell silent when Obligatia patted her soothingly on the arm as one might a nervous hound.
“Sister Petra has not been well since that awful day,” said Obligatia without apparent irony, considering her own weakened condition. Yet her expression had such clarity and strength of will that Rosvita could not help but contrast the old woman’s energy and evident sanity with the bewildered gaze of Petra as she stared at the shadows, mouth moving but no words coming out. “Sister Carita died soon after we fled here, may her spirit rest at peace in the Chamber of Light. Hilaria, Diocletia, and Teuda have remained rocks.”
“God granted us strength,” said Diocletia, who had risen in order to give Obligatia room to sit on the bench. “We serve you as faithfully in this life as we will serve God in the next, Mother.”
Obligatia bowed her head, aware of the burden of their loyalty. Rosvita, looking up, saw her own dear companions gazing at her with that same dreadful and wonderful steadfastness. Like Lavastine’s hounds, they had chosen with their hearts and now could never be swayed.
“Pray God we are worthy of their loyalty,” she murmured to herself, but Obligatia’s hearing had not suffered.
“Amen,” the old woman whispered. She braced her hands on the table and with an effort pushed herself up to stand as Rosvita hurried to steady her with a hand under her elbow. “In this way I maintain my strength. My task on this Earth is not finished. I have a few more things left to do.”
“Here is Teuda.” Diocletia hurried to a passageway that struck into the rock opposite the tunnel through which they had entered. She met there the lay sister whom Rosvita recalled as a gardener. Teuda carried a large clay pitcher filled with water and a basket, which she set on the table. It was filled with white cakes shaped like small loafs of bread but formed of a substance Rosvita did not recognize. It had no smell. Obligatia led the blessing over drink and food, sat, and indicated that Teuda should pass the bread around. When Rosvita bit into the cake handed to her, she discovered it had no taste as well as no scent, its consistency firm but not hard, with some give when you pressed on it without being spongy.
“What is it?” asked Hanna, too suspicious to eat.
“We call it bread,” said Teuda. “Do not turn your nose up at it, my friend. It comes to us as a gift. Without it, we would all have died of starvation months ago.”
“A gift from whom?” asked Hanna, unappeased. “Sister Hilaria said there are creatures that bide in the earth. Has this something to do with them?”
As with one thought, Teuda, Hilaria, and Diocletia looked at Mother Obligatia. Only poor Sister Petra did not respond; she nibbled at her cake as might a mouse, glancing up frequently at the shadows as though expecting a cat to spring.
“I heard a tale once,” said Ruoda, who had been silent for so long because of the grippe that afflicted her, who had struggled to keep moving although she was feverish and ill. “I heard it said that the wealth of the Salian kings comes from a deep mine that strikes far into the earth, where lies a treasure-house of gold. Or iron. No man can suffer the deep shafts and live, so they say. They say that the Salians have made slaves of a kind of creature lower than humankind but above the common beasts, who burrow in the earth and seek silver and gold.”
Obligatia nodded. “Long ago, creatures carved this labyrinth out of the rock. It runs deep. We have explored only a tiny portion of it. Paloma used to bring rolls of string down and unravel them behind her, so she could find her way back, yet even she discovered merely how much lay beyond our knowledge. What cunning and skill they must have had to construct such a vast network!”
“Do you mean to say that all this, and more, is not natural? That it was hewn from the rock?”
“Just as the convent was, yet even there the founding sisters merely expanded on what already existed. This labyrinth is, we believe, but the top layer of the onion. We will never know the truth.”
Gerwita began to weep again, her nerves stretched so fine that any least brush set them jangling.
“Pray go on!” said Rosvita. “What mystery lies beneath the rock? Truly, I stand amazed.”