Goddess of the Sea (Goddess Summoning 1)

Chapter Nine

"Tin's princess has been shipwrecked!" The warrior shouted at the robed man standing nervously behind the barred doors. "I am Andras, son of Caerleon. I demand entrance and sanctuary for this lady."

"I must get the abbot." The little man scuttled quickly out of sight.

Andras made a derisive sound though his nose, and the black stallion pawed restlessly. CC closed her eyes on a wave of nausea. She could no longer see the ocean. The monastery had been built on the top of a cliff that dropped steeply to a rugged shoreline. Although out of sight, she could hear the waves crashing against the rocks below, and if she focused hard enough on the sound, it soothed her frayed nerves.

"Not much longer, Princess," Andras said. "Abbot William and my family are well acquainted. We will be admitted."

CC wanted to say that she thought monks were supposed to help people, whether they knew their families or not, but she couldn't summon the energy to speak. She wanted to get her drenched clothes off and sleep for days—and not necessarily in that order.

But most of all she wanted the sea to quit calling to her.

"Andras! Is that you, my son?" A soft voice with an accent that sounded vaguely British called from within the walls of the monastery.

"Yes, Father. I am in need of your aid."

"Of course, of course," the voice said hastily. "Brother, unlock this gate and allow our friend entrance."

Rusty hinges complained as the gate swung open. CC tried to sit straighter, ashamed of her bedraggled appearance. But before she could even smooth her hair, Andras slid from the horse's back and pulled her down beside him. CC was horrified to realize that she couldn't stand on her own. Her vision was blurred and everything went cloudy and gray as her knees buckled. Instantly the warrior lifted her into his arms.

"The princess needs rest and care. I found her washed ashore not far from here."

"Brother Peter, have the guest quarters readied for this lady and have one of the sculleries attend to her." CC could hear the scuffle of robes as the man hurried to do the abbot's bidding.

"Are there other survivors to follow, my son?"

CC could feel the warrior shaking his head.

"Poor child," the priest spoke quietly, but he made no attempt to mask the obvious curiosity in his voice. "And you say she is a princess?"

"She remembered her name, but I am afraid she has not been able to say much else," Andras said.

"What is her name?"

"She is the Princess Undine."

Silence greeted the knight's words, and CC wanted desperately to open her eyes and see the abbot's expression. But common sense warned her that it was best to keep up the pretense that she had fainted and was still unconscious.

"Undine?" The man enunciated the name carefully. "Are you quite certain she said Undine?"

"I believe so," Andras answered. "Yes, I am certain she told me her name was the Princess Undine. Do you recognize that name, Father?"

"I only know that in some tongues an undine is a spirit from the sea. How very odd."

"Abbot William." The first monk hurried back to them. "The guest room is ready for the lady and the scullery awaits."

"Let us get her safely within," Andras said. "There will be time to question names and such when she has recovered." CC could feel the warrior's eyes on her and when he spoke his lips were close to her ear. "Look at her, Abbot. It is most certain that she is a princess." Andras's arms tightened possessively around her.

"Let us not be deceived by beauty, my son." The abbot's voice was condescending. "But you are correct, she must rest before we can expect her to speak. Follow me to the guest quarters."

CC rested her head against Andras's shoulder, slitting her eyes to try and catch a glimpse of her surroundings. She saw the green of the grass as they crossed some kind of courtyard, and she was surprised to note the fading light. It was obviously dusk, but it had seemed like only minutes had passed since she had been pulled ashore by the merman. Her hand twitched in remembrance. Surly that wasn't his kiss that she still felt warming her skin?

When they entered the monastery, the heels of Andras's shoes rang against the stone of the floor, and all CC could see through her half-closed eyes was the gray of the stone walls in a dark, narrow corridor.

"Through that door, my son," the priest instructed. "Leave her on the bed. The maid will care for her."

Andras put her gently on a hard, cotlike bed and reluctantly released his hold on her. CC curled onto her side, careful to keep her eyes closed.

"Isabel!" Abbot William's voice was hard and cold when he addressed the maid. "Get her some water with which to wash and one of the good Brother's robes to wear until her own clothing can be cleaned and dried. If she can take sustenance, offer her some broth and watered wine. Then come report her progress to me."

"Yes, Abbot." CC could hear the rustle of the servant's skirts as she curtseyed and rushed out of the room.

"Let us have our own dinner, my son. There will be ample time to speak with the child tomorrow." The priest's voice lost its hard edge when he spoke to the knight. "Your princess is in excellent hands, and as you said, she must rest."

The door closed securely behind them. CC breathed a sigh of relief and opened her eyes. The room was small and barren. The walls were made of thick gray stone. CC hugged herself, feeling a chill that the newly lit fire did little to dispel. The room held only a small, hard bed that was covered with a scratchy brown blanket and a narrow dresser on which was placed a large, plain bowl made of brown pottery. Over the head of the bed hung the only decoration in the room—a wooden crucifix which was bare except for pointed splinters of wood resembling nails that had been driven into it where Christ's hands and feet would have hung.

She squinted and stepped closer to the crucifix. During her years in the air force she had attended church services on several bases for many different denominations, everything from Baptist to Methodist, Protestant to Catholic, but she had never seen anything like that nail-decorated cross. Something about the barren crucifix made her feel very alone.