main | index CHAPTER 8 (section 1) copyright © 2001, S. Y. Affolee The coldness of the stone floor bit through her cloth slippers as she traversed the courtyard. November frost was sprinkled liberally along Sister Hermione’s herb garden, making the whole thing appear like some silver enchantment from the moon. Except there was no moon out. She hugged her cloak closer to her, still feeling the biting air. Only a few more paces to a warmer sanctuary. There was an iron gate before the small door that led through the kitchens. She sighed as a faint blast of warmer air engulfed her. The hearths at the kitchen were still roaring away although the nightly attendant was currently nowhere to be found. A black pot bubbled away on one of the hearths, an odor of garlic and meat assulted her nose. But she was not hungry. Instead, she passed the kitchen and entered a narrow corridor that leaked into the chapel. The chapel itself was a vast monstrosity. Columns erupted from either side, arching into almost impossibly high ceilings. The dim lighting from either side provided little relief from the darkness, instead, the walls appeared to be glowing a pale green that faded as the eye traveled upward to the ceiling. There were colored glass windows on either side, depicting images from the Bible. A few round windows littered the area nearer to the front done in a rose-like design. At that thought, she pulled out a rosary from her pocket and began silently chanting ‘Hail Marys’ as she made her way down the center of the chapel. There were low wooden benches every few feet. She stopped at one of the closer ones near the alter and walked to the middle before sitting down. The alter was gold, but in the night it was only a glimmer of faint bronze. It was a giant cross with the crucified Christ, his head graced with iron thorns but bowed in supplication. His body naked and pale except for a white loincloth at his waste. And surrounding this whole scene were symbols and angels, his mourning disciples, the weeping Marys. She bowed her own head and sought to submerge herself into the nightly ritual of prayer. But before her mind could form the first words, she heard the tapping of feet against stone, traveling lightly yet steadily towards her. She remained still until the footsteps sounded just behind her and stopped. There was a faint scuffling as the person sat on the bench directly behind her. A few moments of silence passed. “Abbess. I hope I have not disturbed you.” The man’s voice was low and hurried, yet there was a note of urgency in them. “No. Not at all.” “I have a confession to make.” “Father Lamury is more equiped to handle confessions. He will be here tomorrow morning about eight at the earliest.” “No. Please Abbess. I feel that perhaps it is better for me to tell you.” “Very well.” “You will not tell anyone else of this.” “Of course not. It is a fundamental understanding that this is between you and God.” He sighed. “Thank you. I have been wanting to tell someone for days, but it can’t be just anyone. I’m afraid that I might be tried as a heretic or words if the officials knew.” “Is it that serious? Then I must refer you to Father Lamury.” “No! It is not that serious. Pardon me, but thank God for that. I had managed to extricate myself from the whole affair before it went too deep. A fortnight ago, I had been drinking at one of the local taverns. One of my reoccuring sins, I’m afraid. Margarite is always telling me to stop but somehow I never heed her sensible words. I met this odd man there who I am positive is a cheater but he won the card game anyway. He offered me a way to get my money back, though.” “I see.” “Yes Abbess. It was a foolhardy thing to do. I know that now. He showed me entrance to a group of learned men. Learned men! Nothing but demon whorshippers, I grant you that. They wanted to practice magic and enslave weaker men. They told me any sort of money would be mine if I joined the Dark Vipers. But thank God again I came to my senses afterwards. You see, I had to tell someone that dark forces are about in this city. I was afraid if I told the authorities, they might arrest me for being one of them!” “However briefly tempted, you did break away,” she said. “Because you realized this evil, God will be more than forgiving. It was not your fault that you were persuaded by the devil.” “Thank you, Abbess.” Suddenly the doors to the chapel thundered as someone knocked or rather slammed on the door. The man behind her yelped. “That man is coming to find me!” he cried, panicked. “The odd man, the one I told you about. He has one eye patched over and most of his teeth are missing. I must go. Please do not tell him that I was here. Oh, if only I had not gone to the tavern that night!” “If what you say is true, then you must leave here immediately. Make no delays then.” She rose and for the first time saw the man, a pathetic huddling thing that scuttled behind her as she beckoned. She went toward the alter where there was some wood paneling behind the sculpture of Christ. She pressed a hidden crack and a door slid open into a dark abyss. “You must not be afraid.” The man peered into the darkness with rheumy eyes. “What’s that?” She took out one of the candles from the numerous ones lighting the alter and handed it to him. “This leads into the catacombs beneath the church. Go down and take the path to your left. It will soon bring you to a gate just outside the church.” The pounding came insistently again. “Thank you Abbess. I am more grateful than I can say.” “God be with you.” The man disappeared into the darkness, the candle he held a solitary becon. She closed the door back up and slowly made her way to the door. On the other side, she found one of the novices, Sister Geraldine staring wide-eyed and frightened at her. “I am sorry Abbess, I do not have the key to the chapel.” “That is all right.” She looked up at the visitor beside her, a tall, lanky, and malicious character with stringy hair stuffed under a cap. He was as the frightened man had described him, one-eyed and toothless. But he did not seem old. “Abbess, I’ll be looking for a ruffian, short, scraggly clothes with the stench of drink on him. Last reports say that he was heading over to the church.” “I’m sorry sir, but I haven’t seen such a man.” “Humph.” The suspicious character scanned the chapel and surripetiously sniffed. He sneezed as if he was allergic to piety. “Well, he doesn’t seem like a man to venture into the House of God.” With that, he whirled around, intent on finding his way out. * * * Adrian awoke from the dream puzzled and his feet still tingling from the coldness of the abbey floor. He pushed aside his bed covers and briefly stood looking out the bedroom window, arms crossed against his bare chest. Theoretically, his hunch should be right. Other historians besides Thomson should have some information on the elusive Dark Vipers. Feeling restless, he prowled out of his room and unconsciously headed toward the guest bedroom, only to stop at the door. He heard nothing. He sighed and thought about retreating back to his own room when the door suddenly opened and he heard a frightened gasp. He looked down, finding Simone staring back up at him, frozen. Fiz, his black kitten lazily wandered to the doorway to see who it was. Only seeing Adrian, he wandered back inside to go back to sleep. “It’s me.” He could see her immediately frowning. “Don’t scare me like that.” She stalked past him. “I was feeling a little thirsty.” “Maybe I should go to the kitchen with you this time.” “If you want. What are you doing up? And in front of my door of all places? I don’t need a guard dog when your cat is already convienietly camped out at the foot of the bed.” “I couldn’t sleep. I had a dream.” “A nightmare?” He blinked as he turned on the kitchen light and quickly grabbed some bottled water from the fridge and a glass from a cupboard. “No. Just an odd dream because somebody in my dream mentioned the Black Vipers.” “Well, you know all about dreams. About digesting all the information you learned during the day.” “That’s mostly right,” he said watching her take a gulp of water. “But sometimes, just sometimes, they try to tell you something.” “Right.” “When we go see Sykes, I want to see a history professor too, just to see if he knows anything about the Black Vipers that Thomson hasn’t figured out yet.” “Sounds like a plan.” He nodded. “I’m curious though.” “Curious?” “Yeah. Why are you up?” She scowled. “Too much adrenaline. But I’m feeling a little better. Never hurts for a change of scenery, I guess.” He grinned. “Good.” “Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” she replied as she took another drought of water, “if you think that you’ve gained some entertainment with me as a roommate, you’d better think again.”