Chapter Seventeen
The hall did open into the kitchen area, which was a huge room, immaculately clean and lively. Hanging from the low-beamed ceiling were dozens of different types of herbs, many of which CC was pleased that she recognized. The walls of the kitchen were lined with hearths, both big and small. Isabel and three women whom CC had not seen before were busy preparing what would probably be the midmorning meal. None of them noticed CC in the shadowed doorway, and she took the opportunity to study them. It was easy to see a trend in the women chosen to be servants at the monastery. Each of them was old and in some way disfigured. The right side of the face of the woman kneading an impressive mound of bread dough was drooped and slack, giving her a partially melted appearance. The woman who was chopping potatoes and onions did so with one hand, holding her uselessly curled left hand tightly against her body. The third woman, who was plucking the feathers from a fat hen, did so hunched at an awkward angle caused by a large hump on her back.
CC felt the slow burn of anger in the back of her throat. The abbot might as well have had a huge sign hung around each woman's neck which read: I'm allowed here be-cause men don't find me attractive. No wonder Isabel had disliked her on sight.
Over one low-burning fire was suspended a huge blackened kettle in which Isabel, her back to CC, was slowly adding crushed garlic and leaves of basil.
"It smells wonderful," CC said. Each woman jumped in surprise at the sound of her voice. CC smiled warmly at Isabel. "I didn't know you made the stew. If I had, I would have told you sooner how delicious it is. You're a magnificent cook."
CC couldn't be sure, but she thought the sudden flush on Isabel's shriveled cheeks might have been from pleasure at the unexpected compliment. She turned and included the other women in her smile.
"Good morning! It's sure nice to see female faces. I've felt kind of outnumbered lately." She nodded her head back toward the rest of the monastery. When the women didn't speak, but continued to stare, she just widened her smile. "My name is Undine."
This seemed to thaw them to action, and the three women dropped quick, awkward curtseys and mumbled hellos in her general direction. Isabel limped to her side.
"Princess, are you lost?"
"No, I came looking for the kitchen."
"I did not think you would awaken this early or I would have been there to help you dress."
"Oh, that's not why I was looking for the kitchen. I need to get some cleaning supplies to take to the chapel. I thought the kitchen would be a good place to find a bucket and some rags, as well as soap and water. Did I guess right?"
"Yes, Princess, but all you need do is to tell me what you wish cleaned; you need not supervise the details." The shock of CC's sudden appearance had passed and Isabel's tone had returned to being edged with thinly veiled sarcasm.
"Oh, I don't want you to do the cleaning—I will." CC was pleased when Isabel's eyes widened in surprise. "All I need is for you to show me where I can get the supplies." She looked at each woman as she continued speaking. "Did you know that there is a beautiful statue of the Virgin Mother in the chapel?" All of the women remained silent, but CC nodded her head at the group as if they had answered her. "Apparently, no one knew about it. It's such a tragedy. It's obviously been ignored and neglected for years. I found it yesterday during mass and I pledged to the Mother that I would restore it." She turned her smile back on Isabel, who was staring at her like she had totally lost her mind.
"You will clean it yourself?" Isabel asked, unsure she had heard CC correctly.
"Yes. I'm not afraid to get my hands wet," CC said, loving her own little private joke. "So, if you'll just point me to a bucket and some soap, I'll get to work."
Numbly, Isabel pointed to an area next to the humpbacked woman who had been plucking the chicken.
"Thank you!" CC said. Purposefully, she walked across the room and picked up an empty bucket.
"There is water in the barrel and rags and soap there, Princess." The humpbacked woman pointed to a cupboard near one of the smaller, oven-looking hearths.
CC smiled her thanks and grabbed a bucket. There was a large ladle hanging from the side of the freshwater barrel, and CC quickly filled her bucket, then she picked several clean rags and a crude bar of pungent-smelling soap from the cupboard.
"Which way to the chapel?" she asked Isabel.
"That hallway will take you to the gardens. Can you find your way from there, Princess?"
CC nodded. The bucket was heavy, and she was glad that Undine's body was tall and strong. Before she left the room she turned, speaking to all four women.
"I appreciate your help. And, please, you don't need to call me Princess. My name is Undine—and I'm just another woman in a place filled with men."
Pleased with her parting comment, her smile didn't waver even as she struggled her way across the perfect gardens, occasionally sloshing water onto her robes and pointedly ignoring the shocked stares from monks already busy with their morning chores.
"They act like they've never seen a woman work before," she mumbled. Climbing the steps up to the chapel she tried not to look at the horrific renditions of hell carved around the entrance, but her eyes couldn't help lingering on them. For some reason they were even more disturbing the second time she saw them, even though this time she was ready for them. She hesitated, searching the stone for some glimpse of hope or salvation, but every scene mirrored only desperation and despair—eternal damnation and pain.
"It's like an awful car wreck I can't look away from," she whispered. Shaking herself, she forced her eyes away from the macabre artwork and entered the dim, incense-saturated building. Even the soft gray light of dawn was bright compared to the darkness within, and CC stood still for a moment, blinking to accustom herself to the gloom.
The chapel was deserted except for two monks who knelt before the mound of flickering candles that were to the right of the nave. When they glanced back at her, she smiled a greeting to them. They acknowledged her with brief nods before returning to their monotonous chanting.
As if a magnet was drawing her, CC made her way along the rear of the chapel to the deeply shadowed left side. Two brightly burning candles beckoned her back to the forgotten statue. She paused in front of it, taking a moment after setting down the bucket to catch her breath. She hadn't been wrong. The lovely statue had Gaea's unmistakable face.
First, she thought, she must have more light. Without hesitation she strode to the table at the front of the nave. It was laden with unlit candles and long, dry pieces of twig that were obviously used for lighting them. Gathering as many as her voluminous robe could hold, she clanked her way back to the statue. Then she worked at placing the candles all around the statue and lighting them. As her little corner of the chapel blazed with light, she felt the eyes of the monks on her back. Glancing quickly over her shoulder she caught them looking at her.
"Brothers, please add to your prayers those for the renovation of the Virgin's statue. It is long overdue." Without waiting for their answer she turned back to the job before her.
It was worse than she had realized the day before. The statue was flaky and filthy, but that wasn't all. That entire side of the chapel appeared to have been ignored. Filth and spiders ruled supreme. When CC dipped the first cloth into the bucket she was sure she heard something slither into the shadows.
Gritting her teeth, she swiped the bar of soap against the damp cloth, telling herself over and over again that crawly things were more afraid of her than she was of them—even though she sincerely didn't know how that could possibly be true.
While she worked she thought and prayed. She asked Gaea for guidance and tried to sort through the tangle of her own feelings. It didn't take long for her to realize that understanding she was in love wasn't the answer to everything—instead it was the beginning of many more questions.
Soon she fell into a cleaning rhythm. She had always been fond of keeping things neat and in their proper places—that was one of the reasons the air force had been such a nice fit for her. Military clean was a good thing, not passionless and contrived like the gardens of the monastery; just everything in the place in which it belonged and everything in the best shape possible. CC tore one of the rags in half horizontally and used it to tie her thick hair back out of her way. Three times she made the trek through the garden to the kitchen for clean water. The women still didn't speak to her unless she spoke to them first, but Isabel had a mug of herbal tea and a hunk of bread ready for her after the second trip, and on her last trip the woman with the shriveled hand smiled shyly at her.