Oh, but it was a lie coming out of her mouth. She didn’t want to help. She didn’t want any part of it. But self-preservation was flowing fast and heavy through her veins. She had to make it out of this alive. She watched the Mother Abbess for her reaction, praying it would be one of approval.
Praying she was believed.
Her prayers were answered. The Mother Abbess was evidently pleased, or at least encouraged by it, because she sat back in her chair with an expression of approval on her face. The dark eyes glittered.
“Is that all you have to say to this?” she asked. “You are English, Andressa. Our command is to kill your king. And you have nothing more to say to that?”
She does not believe me, Andressa thought with panic. Quickly, she struggled for a believable response. “Should I?” she said. “My father supported Richard, not John. In fact, he fought for Richard in his wars against his own father. My family has no love for John. But if he is removed, then who shall take his place?”
The Mother Abbess waved a dismissive hand. “Our Holy Father has already made that determination,” she said. “Suffice it to say he shall be better than what England has with John. We aresavingEngland, Andressa. There is great honor in this.”
There was no honor in it. It was murder, but the Mother Abbess was trying very hard to convince her otherwise. She also alluded to the fact that there was already a replacement for theking, ready and waiting, someone clearly chosen by the Holy Father. It was already planned, all of it. Now, it was simply a matter of executing the plot. Andressa was so frightened that she simply went along with it.
“There is great honor in serving God,” she said, “and I… I am honored that you would trust me into your sisterhood. I shall not disappoint you, Gracious Mother.”
The Mother Abbess studied her a moment longer before looking away, rising from her chair. As she did so, the three sisters also rose, and Andressa took the cue and also bolted to her feet. The four of them watched as the Mother Abbess wandered over to the oriel windows overlooking the cloister.
“It will happen thusly,” the Mother Abbess said. “The king will come to us on the Feast Day of St. Blitha and it is then that we shall carry out our command. You, dear Andressa, are an excellent servant of God and I urge you to continue to be so. We want no failings in our sisterhood.”
“I shall not fail, Gracious Mother.”
The Mother Abbess turned to look at her. “I believe you,” she said. “And as a reward for your obedience, I shall expand your duties. After you complete your usual laundry duties, you shall help Sister Petronilla in the garden and she shall show you what we must do in order to carry out our mission. She will take you under her wing and ensure you know all she knows. Won’t you, Sister Petronilla?”
Andressa found herself looking at a round woman with heavy, dark brows. She knew Sister Petronilla by name only because, in the time she’d been at St. Blitha, she’d never had any closer interaction with her. But Sister Petronilla was looking her over now, perhaps even haughtily.
“I will, Gracious Mother,” Sister Petronilla said. “I will work closely with her to ensure she understands everything.”
“Excellent,” the Mother Abbess said. “Then the matter is settled. Andressa, finish your duties in the laundry today and tomorrow. Once they are completed, you will join Sister Petronilla in the garden.”
“Aye, Gracious Mother,” Andressa agreed. She hesitated a moment before speaking. “The last of my duties today includes Lady Hinkley’s fine dress. She wanted it for this evening. May I take it to her?”
“Of course,” the Mother Abbess said. “She is a fine customer. Collect any additional washing from her while you are there.”
“I will, Gracious Mother.”
“And I know that Lady Hinkley likes to entertain. If she asks you to remain and eat with her, you may do so. We must keep Lady Hinkley happy so that she will send us all of her washing.”
“Aye, Gracious Mother.”
With that, Andressa sensed they were at the end of their clandestine gathering and she was nearly frantic to get out of that room. That hellish room where the evil of the Mother Abbess coated the very walls. She’d always known the woman to be wicked, but after the conversation they’d just had, even Andressa couldn’t have imagined how deep that malevolence ran. But she didn’t dare leave before she was dismissed, so she stood there until the Mother Abbess decided the subject at hand was concluded. It was a painfully long wait.
“Be on your way,” she finally told Andressa. “There is much to do. God is on our side, Andressa. Remember that.”
“I do, Gracious Mother.”
“You may go.”
Andressa did. She went to the Mother Abbess, kissing the woman’s hand as a sign of respect, before making her way from the chamber at a calm and leisurely pace. It wasn’t until she made it into the corridor outside, the one with the stairs that led down to The Chaos, that she collapsed against a wall, fightingoff tears that were threatening to explode. It took her a moment to regain her composure but when she did, she hastily made her way back out to the laundry yard, resuming her duties in case the Mother Abbess was watching from her windows.
Something told Andressa that she was.
Even as she went through the motions of removing the dried laundry from the hemp ropes, her mind was working furiously. No matter how the Mother Abbess had phrased it, to kill King John was not God’s work. The God Andressa worshipped was not a wicked deity, demanding the death of a monarch. The very rationale was ludicrous, but Andressa seemed to be the only one who saw it that way. To think that God was demanding the death of a king through the Holy Father was delusional. God didn’t demand death, and if He did, then He had the power to make the man drop dead. He didn’t send mortal man to do his bidding.
It was the pope who wanted the king dead.
Andressa was having a difficult time realizing just how vast this plot was. The pope himself wanted his enemy removed and had finally ordered John’s death, and the Mother Abbess would carry it out. The king would be coming to St. Blitha on her feast day, in just a few days in fact, and the Mother Abbess would be waiting for him like a spider waiting for a fly. The king would be oblivious to the danger awaiting him at the Abbey of St. Blitha, and there wasn’t a thing Andressa could do to prevent it. If she tried, then her life would be forfeit.
But Andressa knew one thing– she couldn’t stand by and watch the King of England be murdered by women who professed to love God. They were beyond reproach, and beyond suspect, and in that sense, it made them the perfect assassins. Even Andressa understood the beauty of that.
