“I dinna think so,” he said. “It seemed to me, when he spoke of ye, that he’s used ye before.”
The Mother Abbess nodded, unable to look at him. She was being reminded once again of her great sins of duty, sins that would never be fully cleansed.
“He has,” she murmured.
“But… why ye?”
Even if Alasdair was not shocked by killer nuns, there was curiosity there. Natural curiosity. She smiled thinly.
“Suffice it to say that he condemned my brother, the man who assumed the post before him,” she said. “Any works my brother has done, the Holy Father has ruined them. To him, Celestine and the Orsini family,myfamily, are his greatest enemies. That includes me. What I do, I do to save myself and all that I have. I have built an empire here and I will not lose it. Icannotlose it.”
Alasdair watched her closely. “So he gives ye orders and expects ye to carry them out.”
“He does.”
“No matter how dirty the deed.”
“No matter.”
Alasdair was coming to understand the dynamics now, of this powerful Mother Abbess and her relationship with the pope. It was, truthfully, fascinating, and his curiosity was fed.
“Tell me,” he said, his tone nearly pleading. “What has he asked of ye in the past? Something as grand as what is in the missive ye hold?”
The Mother Abbess lifted her slender shoulders. “Some would think so,” she said. “The Bishop of Leeds spoke out against the Holy Father, many times, and went to Rome years ago on pilgrimage. He and the Holy Father evidently exchanged harsh words, enough so that the Holy Father could no longer tolerate his contentious presence. When the Bishop of Leeds traveled home again, the Holy Father instructed the man to seek respite during his travels at St. Blitha. The bishop arrived and when he came, he presented me with a missive from the Holy Father. Contained within the sealed parchment was the request from the Holy Father that I ensure the man did not make it home alive. When the bishop returned home, it was to his funeral.”
Alasdair could sense great sorrow in the woman’s words as well as resignation. “He asks and ye comply,” he said. “Now he asks ye tae complete an even larger task.”
The Mother Abbess nodded her head, wearily. Then, she tossed the parchment into the hearth and watched it catch fire. She could not leave such a missive intact, for obvious reasons.
“There is no choice in the matter,” she said. “The Holy Father wishes for my sisters and me to rid England of its king and that is what we shall do. To place this boy upon the throne will, mayhap, be for the best. A young lad who will be pious and loyal to the church will be best for us all.”
Alasdair could see that she was trying to rationalize the terrible directive, as a woman with no choice at all. “No one will ever suspect nuns as a danger tae John,” he said. “Ye will be able tae get close tae him, tae serve him, and carry out yer task.”
The Mother Abbess watched as the parchment burned brightly, going up in flames much as she felt her soul was going up in flames. “Simple enough, I suppose,” she said. “The king comes to St. Blitha for her feast day. He has come the past three years, in fact, because St. Blitha is the patron saint of huntersand wine, among other things, and the king considers himself quite the hunter. There is a great feast and it would be a small thing to poison the man’s wine as he takes his confessional. Ironic, really.”
Alasdair watched the woman closely as if to make sure she was, indeed, planning on carrying out the Holy Father’s orders. There was still something in her manner that was hesitant, as if divulging a great weakness, causing him to distrust her intentions.
“Ye will see tae it?” he pressed. “I will send a messenger back tae Rome with the news that the Holy Father’s missive was received. He will know that ye read and understood his directive.”
The Mother Abbess turned to look at him, her dark eyes somehow darker and more hollow. It was the evil she was assuming that created the hollowness within her, hollowness reflected in her gaze.
The evil within.
“Tell him what you will,” she said. “I will not fail.”
Alasdair simply nodded even though he had his doubts. Would she be strong enough to do it? Would he be forced to step in and force her hand? He wondered. Alasdair suspected it would be a good idea to remain in London, close to the Mother Abbess, to ensure the Holy Father’s orders were carried out. Women were weak, after all, especially when it came to matters of death.
Alasdair would ensure that the Mother Abbess didn’t fail.
Silently begging his leave, Alasdair left the convent and headed towards the city proper where he could find lodgings for the night. Come the next day, he intended to hire a messenger that would return to Rome with a missive meant for the Holy Father, one that assured the man this his directives for the King of England would come to fruition.
If Alasdair had anything to say about it, they certainly would.
CHAPTER TWO
London
The Crowned Lion Inn
