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 Senior Sisters were for the higher order only, and the rest of the Nuns were totally unaware of what went on behind the giant oaken doors.
Within hours, only the sound of scrabbling mice could be heard in the corridors of the ancient convent as the occupants rested during the meagre six hours before first bell would ring again. Outside the fruit bushes in the walled vegetable gardens, so carefully tendered by Maximillian the gardener, swayed in unison with the mulberry trees of the Sister’s private cemetery. Bats flitted between the belfry and the crags of a nearby cliff face, chasing the myriads of insects rising from the surrounding woodlands. Like most nights, the nearby crags protected the ancient convent from the worst of the weather and apart from the usual sounds of the local wildlife, the night was very quiet, as could be expected in the isolated outpost of solitude.
But tonight was different. Tonight there was a different sound disturbing the darkness. Regular intakes of breath from an animal bigger than the usual deer or badger that roamed the surrounding woodland were interrupted by the occasional snap of dried twigs, both betraying the alien sound of carefully placed human footsteps drawing closer to the walls of the convent of the blessed virgin.
Mother Superior Theresa made her way slowly through the passages, her ageing bones aching in the damp and cold passages. As usual she had managed a few hours sleep but it was all she needed these days. She knew that her allotted span on this earth was coming to an end, and truth be told, when the time came she would welcome it with open arms. Every cell of her being was tired and she longed for the eternal sleep that beckoned enticingly in the not too distant future. But first she had to ensure the secrets of the convent were in safe hands. The appointment of her successor would be straightforward enough as any of the six Senior Sisters could step up to the role. The problem was, whoever was given the ultimate post would leave a vacancy in the ranks of the Senior Sisters and she wasn’t sure who, if any of the normal Sisters were ready to take the huge step up that the role of Senior Sister demanded. Every candidate had been discussed in depth on many occasions and the time was approaching when the final vote would be made and it was at that time that the order was in the most danger, for if the nominated candidate shied away from her responsibilities, the very order itself would be at risk of collapsing. Mother Superior Theresa had overseen the appointment of all six Senior Sisters in her time as head of the order, and all had gone without a hitch. In fact there had been no refusal recorded for over three hundred years. However the senior order were all growing old and it was possible that there would need to be several more elections in the very near future.
Suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks, sure she had heard something in the darkness. This normally would not be unusual in this old creaking place, but this was different. It sounded like a cough, a man’s cough!
‘Maximillian,’ she called, ‘Is that you?’ She knew the gardener should be in his cottage in the grounds at this time of the morning, but who else could it be?
‘Maximillian?’ she said again, ‘It’s awful late. Is there a problem?’
A figure stepped out of the shadows.
‘No problem, Sister,’ said an unfamiliar voice, and before she could react the figure lashed out and knocked the old lady to the floor, sending her into a world of darkness.
India and Brandon walked down a small street running through the village India had mentioned in Rome. They had arrived back a day earlier on a flight from Italy and Brandon had allowed them a few hours rest in a motel to catch up on the lost sleep. It seemed to India that she had slept only a few minutes before he was knocking on her door. After a quick shower they had driven from London towards Maidenhead, finally parking their hire car in a lay-by before walking into the village of Littlewick Green. The shops were closed as it was a Sunday so they made their way to the village pub.
‘When we get there say nothing about the missing girl,’ said Brandon.
‘Why not?’ asked India, ‘These people probably know nothing anyway. All we want is some guidance.’
‘It’s still classified, and besides, don’t forget the dead Greek’s brother is still at large and if he is on the same trail as us, he probably came this way. The last thing we want to do is raise the interest of any newspapers. Don’t forget there is still a child’s life at risk here.’