Then the priest bent and lifted the heavy statue as if it were made of feathers rather than stone, and carried it above deck.
“Did he harm you?” Marie Madeleine whispered quickly as soon as he was out of sight.
“No,” Lenobia said shakily. “But he wants to.”
The nun nodded grimly. “Get the candle and incense. Wake the other girls and tell them to come up for prayers. Then stay close to me. You will have to forgo your solitary dawn trips. It simply is not safe. Thankfully, we only have a few short days. Then you will be at the convent and beyond his reach.” The nun squeezed her hand before following the Bishop to the upper deck, leaving Lenobia alone and utterly brokenhearted.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Later, when her world had turned dark and painful and filled with despair, Lenobia remembered that morning and the beauty of the sky and the sea—and how everything had changed so suddenly and completely in less than the time it took her heart to beat a dozen times. She remembered it, and vowed that for the rest of her life she would not take anything beautiful and special for granted
It had been early, and the girls had been sluggish and peevish, not wanting to rise. Not wanting to go up on deck to pray. Aveline de Lafayette was especially annoyed, though Simonette’s excitement about something new more than made up for the older girl’s sour disposition.
“I have so wanted to explore the ship,” Simonette confided in Lenobia as they made their way to the little promenade area in the aft of the
“It is a very beautiful ship,” Lenobia murmured back, and then smiled as Simonette’s curls bounced and bobbed as she nodded her head in response.
The marble statue of Mary had been placed near the black railing that framed the aft portion of the ship— sitting just above the Commodore’s own quarters. Sister Marie Madeleine was fussing with the statue, scooting it around and placing it just right, until she saw Lenobia, and then she motioned for the girl to come to her.
“Child, I will take the taper and the incense.”
Lenobia gave her the silver incense burner, which was already filled with the precious mixture of frankincense and myrrh the nun used when she was at prayer, as well as the thick beeswax pillar resting in its plain pewter holder. She returned to the statue and placed the candle and the incense burner at Mary’s feet.
“Girls,” the nun addressed her crowd, and then with a slight smile she nodded her head in acknowledgment of the crew members who were beginning to congregate curiously toward them. “And good gentlemen. Let us begin this lovely morning with the Marian litanies as a thanksgiving for the news that we are mere days from our destination of New Orleans.” She motioned for the watching crew to come closer.
As they approached, Lenobia looked for Martin in the group but was disappointed when she did not see his familiar face.
“Oh, my! We need a brand from below to light Mary’s taper. Lenobia, child, could you please—”
“Do not fret, Sister. I will light Mary’s fire.”
The girls parted like fog to sunlight and the Bishop strode through them with a long wooden brand in his hand, the end of which flickered with flame. He offered it to the nun, and she took it with a strained smile.
“Thank you, Father. Would you like to lead the Marian litany this morning?”
“No, Sister. I believe the litanies of Mary are more fully appreciated when led by a woman.” With a bow of his head, the Bishop retreated to the far side of the aft promenade, where the crew members were gathering. He stood in front of them.
Lenobia thought his choice of position made it appear uncomfortably as if he were planning to lead the phalanx of men against them.
Nonplussed, Sister Marie Madeleine lit the candle and the incense. Then she knelt and genuflected. Lenobia and the rest of the girls followed her example. Lenobia was positioned to the nun’s left, facing the statue, but also turned so that she could see the Bishop—so she saw his arrogant hesitation, which made his kneeling appear patronizing rather than obedient. The men around him followed suit.
Marie Madeleine bowed her head and pressed her hands together prayerfully. With closed eyes she began the litany in a clear, strong voice:
“Holy Mary, pray for us.”
“Pray for us,” the girls repeated obediently.
“Holy Mother of God,” Marie Madeleine intoned.
“Pray for us.” This time the crew members took up the litany and added their voices to the prayer.
“Holy Virgin of virgins.”
“Pray for us,” the crowd invoked.
“Mother of Christ,” the nun continued.
“Pray for us…”
Lenobia repeated the phrase, but she was unable to quiet her spirit enough to close her eyes and bow her head, as were the other girls. Instead her gaze and her mind wandered.
“Pray for us…”
“Mother of divine grace.”
“Pray for us…”
“Mother most pure.”
“Pray for us…”
Lenobia’s gaze flitted to the group of men and the man in purple robes who knelt before them. Her eyes widened in shock. He did not have his head bowed and his eyes closed. He was staring at the statue, in front of which the nun was on her knees in prayer. His hands were not folded. Instead, one hand was stroking the shining ruby crucifix that hung in the middle of his chest. The other was making a slight but odd motion, just a flutter of his fingers, almost as if he were beckoning movement from something before him.
“Mother most chaste.”
“Pray for us…”
Confused, Lenobia followed the Bishop’s gaze and realized the priest was staring not at the statue but at the single thick pillar candle lit at the feet of Mary, directly in front of the nun. It was at that moment that the flame intensified, blazing with such a fierce intensity that wax seemed to weep from it. Then wax and flame joined as sparks, and fire exploded from the taper and cascaded onto Marie Madeleine’s linen habit.
“Sister! The fire!” Lenobia cried, getting to her feet to run toward Marie Madeleine.
But the strange fire had already become a terrible blaze. The nun cried out and tried to stand, but she was obviously disoriented by the flames that were consuming her. Instead of moving away from the wildly burning pillar, Marie Madeleine lurched forward, directly into the pool of burning wax.
Girls all around Lenobia were screaming and bumping into her, keeping her from reaching the nun.
“Get back! I will save her!” the Bishop yelled as he ran forward, purple robes billowing like flame behind him, with a bucket in his hands.
“No!” Lenobia screamed, remembering the lessons she had learned in the kitchen about wax and grease and water. “Get a blanket, not water! Smother it!”
The Bishop threw the bucket of water on the burning nun, and the fire exploded, raining flaming hot wax into the crowd of girls and creating panic and hysteria.
The world became fire and heat. Still, Lenobia tried to get to Marie Madeleine, but strong hands entrapped
