Lenobia's Vow: A House of Night Novella (10 page)

“I would not dare to be angry with you, Father. I only wish to return to our good Sister.”

He stepped closer to her. “I have a proposal for you, and when you hear it you will know that with the great honor I pay you, you can dare much more than anger.”

“I am sorry, Father. I do not know what you could mean,” she said, trying to sidle around him.

“Do you not,
ma petite de bas
? I look in those eyes of yours and I see many things.”

Lenobia’s anger at what he was calling her overrode her fear. “My name is Lenobia Whitehall. I am not your bastard!” She hurled the words at him.

His smile was terrible. Suddenly his arms snaked out, one hand on either side of Lenobia, pinning her against the wall. The sleeves of his purple robe were like curtains, veiling her from the real world. He was so tall that the ruby crucifix dangled in front of her eyes and for a moment she thought she saw flames within its glistening depths.

Then he spoke, and her world narrowed to the stench of his breath and the heat of his body.

“When I am finished with you, you will be anything I desire you to be—bastard, whore, lover, daughter. Anything. But do not give in too easily,
ma petite de bas
. I like a struggle.”

“Father, there you are! How fortuitous that I should find you so close to our quarters. Could you please help me? I thought moving the Holy Mother would be simply done, but I either underestimated her weight or overestimated my strength.”

The Bishop stepped back, releasing Lenobia. She sprinted down the hallway to the nun, who was not looking at them at all. Instead she was struggling to drag a large painted stone statue of Mary from the doorway of their room out into the hall. As Lenobia reached her, the nun glanced up and said, “Lenobia, good. Please get the altar candle and the incense brazier. We will be saying the Marian litanies, as well as the Little Office of the Virgin, on deck today and for the next few days until we reach port in New Orleans.”

“Few days? You are mistaken, Sister,” the Bishop said condescendingly. “We have at least two more weeks remaining in our voyage.”

Marie Madeleine straightened from wrestling with the statue and rubbed the small of her back as she gave the Bishop a cold look that completely belied her offhanded manner and the coincidence of interrupting his abuse of Lenobia. “Days,” she said sternly. “I just spoke to the Commodore. The squall put us ahead of schedule. We will be in New Orleans in three or four days. It will be lovely for us all to be on land again, will it not? I will be especially pleased to introduce you to our Mother Superior and tell her what a safe and pleasant voyage we all have had thanks to your protection. You do know how well she is thought of in the city, do you not, Bishop de Beaumont?”

There was a long silence and then the Bishop said, “Oh, yes, Sister. I know that and much, much more.”

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
Minerva
.

“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…”

Three days left in the voyage, and Marie Madeleine says I cannot go to the cargo hold again.

“Mother of divine grace.”

“Pray for us…”

Martin! How am I going to get word to him? I must see him again, even if it means I chance another encounter with the Bishop.

“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 her waist and pulled her back.

“No!” she screamed, fighting to get away.

“
Cherie!
You cannot help her!”

Martin’s voice was an oasis of calm in chaos, and Lenobia’s body went limp. She let him pull her back out of range of the burning aft deck. But in the midst of the flames Lenobia saw Marie Madeleine stop struggling. Completely engulfed in flame, the nun walked to the railing, turned, and for an instant her gaze met Lenobia’s.

Lenobia would never forget that moment. What she saw in Marie Madeleine’s eyes was not pain or terror or fear. She saw peace. And within her mind echoed the nun’s voice, mixed with another that was stronger, clearer, and otherworldly in its beauty.
Follow your heart, child. The Mother shall always protect you …

Then the nun stepped over the railing and purposely leaped overboard into the cool, welcoming arms of the sea.

The next thing Lenobia remembered was Martin ripping off his shirt and using it to beat out the flames that had been licking at her skirt.

“You stay here!” he shouted at her when the fire was out. “Don’ move, you!” Lenobia nodded woodenly, and then Martin joined the other crew members as they used clothes and pieces of sails and rigging to pound out the fire. Commodore Cornwallis was there, shouting orders and using his blue dress jacket to beat out pockets of fire, which now seemed to extinguish with an unnatural ease.

“I was trying to help! I did not know!” Lenobia’s gaze was drawn by the Bishop’s cries. He was standing at the railing, looking over into the sea.

“Charles! Are you burned? Are you injured?” Lenobia watched the Commodore hurry over to him just as the priest swayed and almost fell overboard. The Commodore caught him in time. “Come away from the railing, man!”

“No, no.” The Bishop shook him off. “I must do this. I must.” He lifted his arm, made the sign of the cross, and then Lenobia heard him begin the last rites prayer.
“Domine sancte…”

Lenobia had never loathed anyone so much in her life.

Simonette lurched into her arms, pink and singed and sobbing. “What do we do now? What do we do now?”

Lenobia clung to Simonette, but she could not answer the girl.

“Mademoiselles! Are any of you injured?” The Commodore’s voice boomed as he waded through the group of weeping girls, pulling out those who had been closest to the flames and directing the ship’s surgeon to them. “If you are uninjured, go below. Clean yourselves. Change your clothes. Rest, mademoiselles, rest. The fire is out. The ship is sound. You are safe.”

Martin was lost in the smoke and confusion, and Lenobia had no choice but to go below with Simonette still holding tightly to her hand.

“Did you hear her, too?” Lenobia whispered as they made their way, trembling and crying, down the narrow hallway.

“I heard the Sister scream. It was terrible.” Simonette sobbed.

“Nothing else? You did not hear what she said?” Lenobia persisted.