‘I have this,’ she said.
At the end of a golden chain was a beautiful pendant consisting of a polished sapphire in a Lapis-lazuli setting.
Stellus’s eyes widened and he stepped forward to examine the necklace closely.
‘It is the necklace of Vesta,’ she said, turning her head away slightly to avoid his breath. ‘There were only six such necklaces ever made and is over a thousand years old. You get us to your destination safely and this is yours. Any noble would gladly pay a fortune to own this necklace. You could live a life of luxury for the rest of your life.’
He raised his hand to feel the pendant but Rubria stepped back and replaced the necklace inside her tunic.
‘Do we have a deal?’ she asked.
‘You will give me the necklace?’ he asked.
‘I will.’
‘How do I know you will keep your word?’ he asked.
‘I am a Priestess of Vesta,’ she said, ‘My word will be honoured.’
‘I believe you,’ he said eventually, ‘We have a deal.’ He turned to his crew. ‘Take them below,’ he said, ‘Put them in my quarters.’
‘One more thing,’ said Rubria
He turned back.
‘What is it?’
‘There will be three of us,’ she said, ‘The girl comes too.’
Rose’s head span around and she gasped in disbelief, hardly able to contain herself.
‘You push your luck, Priestess,’ said the ship’s captain, but his eyes stared at the place she had hidden the necklace. ‘Okay, it is done. All three will travel but that is all. I will give no more.’
It is enough,’ said Rubria, ‘Except for one more detail.’
‘What now?’
‘I want to know where we are going.’
‘Oh that,’ he said, ‘Somewhere a lot colder than this. Dress up warm, Priestess, we are going to Britannia.’
Chapter Twenty
England 2010
Sister Bernice knelt silently at the feet of the small statue of the Virgin Mary, the only ornament in her cell, deep in prayer to the Holy Mother. Eventually, a tiny bell tinkled down the passages of the convent and she crossed herself before getting to her feet and brushed the creases from her gown. There was no dust as the floor of the cell was kept spotlessly clean from the twice daily scrubbing she gave it, a chore that she embraced fully as an honour and a privilege in the name of the mother.
She left her cell and closed the door quietly, as did the rest of the Sisters in her row. She stood patiently in the candlelit corridor and waited in silence until the distant bell tinkled once more before turning left to follow the other Sisters as they headed to the dining hall.
The routine was familiar and she carried it out without thinking, as she had done for the last twenty years. There were five other Nuns in front of her, all dressed in black, like herself, except for the Senior Sister at the front who’s robes were a sharply contrasting light grey. Sister Bernice knew that three similar columns of devotees made their way from different wings of the convent, each led in total silence by their own Senior Sister. They descended a stone stairwell and through another dimly lit corridor until they entered the great hall and took their places behind their nominated space at the long dining tables.
Bernice remained alone in the doorway, singled out for a special part in tonight’s ceremony. Her heart beat a bit faster, as, though she had done this many times before, it was always a privilege to represent the others in the ceremony.
The hall stretched out in front of her and was lined along both sides with the long wooden tables. At the far end, a further table was decked in a white cloth and laid out with religious artefacts, behind which, the six, grey robed Senior Sisters were taking their places. Behind them the far wall was dominated by an ornate carved wooden wall, the centre of which was a carved life-size image of the Virgin Mary set back into a shallow alcove.
None of this registered with Bernice though, as it was exactly the same as every other night since she had joined as an acolyte over twenty years ago and besides, the focus of her attention lay on the lone figure kneeling in the centre of the hall, dressed in a rough Hessian gown and staring down into a wooden bowl before her.
As soon as the room had settled, Bernice walked slowly towards the sad figure and stopped before her. As she had done dozens of times before over the years, she slipped off her self made leather slippers and held up one foot.
The kneeling person took the offered foot, and, using the soft cloth in the bowl, bathed it gently in the warm water. She repeated the task on the other foot and wiped them both dry in a soft towel before looking up at Sister Bernice for approval. Bernice looked down into the aged face of the Mother Superior and smiled her happiness before turning her back and making her way back to her seat. She knew that behind her, all eyes would be on the old lady as she struggled to her feet. Despite her age, nobody would be allowed to help if she struggled, as any failure to complete the ceremony would be the natural sign for a succession process to be instigated. Despite their rank, every Mother Superior in the order’s history had carried out the same ritual of cleansing the feet of the humble before each meal, until such time as they could not finish the task and a successor was appointed.
Bernice reached her seat and was relieved to see that the aged Mother Superior had managed to get to her feet and had taken her place at the head of the table. Everyone knew that the Mother Superior’s health was failing rapidly and it was only a matter of time before she would fail in her task.
Ritual over, the Mother Superior led the room in a prayer of thanks giving before taking her seat, closely followed by the rest of the room. Immediately a door opened and a line of young girls carried tureens of soup and platters of home made bread to the Nuns to start their meal. Mealtimes were one of the few times in a day when the devotees were allowed to talk to each other and Bernice turned to the colleague alongside her.
‘Sister Suzanna,’ she said, ‘It’s good to see you up and about again. ‘You are well, I hope.’
‘Much better, Sister Bernice,’ she answered, ‘No more than a heavy cold, I understand.’
‘You do yourself an injustice,’ said Sister Bernice, ‘I hear you were very ill’.
‘Poppycock,’ said her friend, ‘Anyway, you shouldn’t listen to idle gossip, and you know what the Mother Superior says.’
‘Gossip is for the idle of mind,’ they both said in unison with a smile.
All around the room the devotees of the order of Santa Rosa, ate their meal in an air of serenity, the sound of their conversation a mere murmur in the vastness of the hall. At the head table the six Senior Sisters ate in silence as they oversaw the meal.
‘I fear for the Mother Superior,’ said Suzanna, ’Her legs grow weaker by the day. She should step aside and spend her remaining days in retreat.’
‘I know what you mean,’ said Bernice, ‘Though I would be sad to see her leave. She has been my mentor since the day I knocked on the door of this convent.’
‘When she does leave, who do you think will have the calling to wear the veil?’ They looked up at the six Senior Sisters, each of which were well over sixty years of age, and all eligible for the senior post.
‘Who knows?’ said Bernice, ‘Whoever is chosen I am sure Santa Rosa will guide her.’
‘It is said that your name has been mentioned as a Senior Sister,’ continued Suzanna.
‘Now who’s gossiping?’ said Bernice with a smile.
They continued their meal in quiet chit chat before the familiar bell rang indicating the end of the meal. All the Nuns left the room to return to their cells before evening prayers. As usual the Senior Sisters stayed behind in the hall and the sound of a key being turned being indicated the door was locked from the inside. The rituals of the
