Silvery Whispers - Part Two

The gate to the convent, unlike everything else in the little town of Kyrii, reflected the old Gothic style from the Golden Age. High above a fence, largely concealed by lush pink roses that spilled into the walkway and filled the night air with perfume, the iron twisted into an elegant arch sporting the words, "Saint Maria Faustina's Convent for Mercedarians." The nun worked the simple latch and then swung the gate open on rusty hinges that screamed into the relative silence of the night.

"Please, do come in. We will be happy to have you."

The girl hesitated, then smiled ominously and entered. The woman shut the gate—another noisy affair—and led the way down the long gravel walk in the middle of a well-manured lawn toward the building itself.

"You will be staying here. I…I hope you don't mind."

"We shall see," the girl responded coolly.

"We have a school here; we provide our own meals and work for our hands. There is no need for you to wish to go anywhere else."

The youth narrowed her eyes and sneered. "I know what you are attempting to do. I hope you are aware that it will not work unless I allow it. I can leave whensoever I desire, which may be soon, or it may be never."

The woman nodded. "I do not want to keep you here against your will. I only want to offer you a safe haven where you may receive instruction. We are Sisters of mercy, as you may have noticed from the sign. While most Mercedario’s spend their time going out to the ill and the poor and the unjustly accused, we prefer to bring in the homeless, the needy, and the outcasts. I believe you fall under all three categories."

The girl merely scoffed in reply and then followed her host up the short flight of stairs to the double oak doors.

In addition to all the grey stones and blue-green clay, which was enough in itself to proclaim the honour and esteemed of the establishment, the building proudly displayed the love of its patrons. Each stone had been carefully cut and the mortar meticulously placed. Around the door, a dedicated artist had carved the faces of several saints and created simple scenes on the doors themselves. A small semicircle window, from which fluttered a pale blue curtain, stood guard over the doorway and two blackened lanterns took the place of sentries on either side.

The nun grasped one of the tarnished brass handles and hauled the door open on silent hinges, but not without the muffled protest of wood upon the stone porch. "Now, I will show you your room," she said, "and tomorrow we can go over the general schedule, the rules, et cetera." The woman guided her guest along the dark hallways, sporting strategically placed alcoves for candles, currently unlit, and to a simple wooden door. She held up the lantern and looked her guest over with a frown. "We shall also have to do something about your appearance," she remarked. "It is not exactly fitting for a convent, even one such as ours." In a lighter tone, she added, "But that can wait until tomorrow, also. I suggest you get some sleep, now, because you will be very busy in the morning."

The girl blinked in confusion as her captor politely opened the door to a room that was dimly lit by filtered moonlight. Hesitantly, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

The room was characteristically plain. A single bed stood under an east window, draped in modest gingham curtains. Beside the bed, stood a desk and a simple wooden stool. A three-drawer dresser was near the closet, which looked extremely small in comparison to her former accommodations. A hand-woven rug lay in front of the door and a crocheted rug rested at the side of the bed nearest the entry. Two candelabras and several votive candles stood in strategic locations, ready to fill the room with soft light if she wanted it. Finally, at an angle in the corner, there was a small table supporting a large crucifix, two tapered candles, and a small Bible. The girl frowned and glared at the arrangement.

Dropping her bag by the door, she stepped across the room and sat at the head of the bed to looked out at the night sky. She couldn't sleep. She wasn't the least bit tired. The room smelled dusty and she wanted to roam, either in the wide open air of the outdoors or in the long mysterious corridors of the convent, but she resisted both temptations.

"No," she told herself out loud. "If I am to be different from my sister, I must begin now. I cannot fail such a simple thing as this. Surely, greater tests will come later, so I must build my strength now.

"They have rules," she continued, as if speaking her thoughts would help her to understand them better. "I do not know these rules yet, though I shall soon enough, but I am certain they would disapprove of a night-time excursion. Besides, the lady told me to sleep." She glanced down at the moonlight resting across the bed. "Ach! But I cannot. It is only one in the morning. I have at least five more hours before sunrise. How can I sleep, now?"

For a moment more she gazed out at the moon and the stars playing hide-and-seek through fluffy white clouds. The trees swayed in the breeze and their shadows danced across the lawn. She raised the window a few inches so that the thick panes would not muffle the symphony of the night and then, with a sigh, she obediently pulled the covers back and laid her head on the pillow. "At least the sheets smell nice…of sunshine." She lay with her eyes shut, but her mind completely awake.