Сидни Шелдон – The Sands of Time (страница 6)
‘Yes, Reverend Mother.’
For the next month Lucia took instruction.
‘Those who come here come not to join others, but to dwell alone with God,
‘Yes, Reverend Mother.’
‘You must always obey the silence of the eyes. Looking into the eyes of others would distract you with useless images.’
‘Yes, Reverend Mother.’
‘The first lesson you will learn here will be to rectify the past, to purge out old habits and worldly inclinations, to blot out every image of the past. You will do purifying penance and mortification to strip yourself of self-will and self-love. It is not enough for us to be sorry for our past offences. Once we discover the infinite beauty and holiness of God, we want to make up not only for our own sins, but for every sin that has ever been committed.
‘Yes, Reverend Mother.’
‘You must struggle with sensuality, what John of the Cross called, “the night of the senses”.’
‘Yes, Reverend Mother.’
‘Each nun lives in silence and in solitude, as though she were already in heaven. In this pure, precious silence for which she hungers, she is able to listen to the infinite silence and possess God.’
At the end of the first month, Lucia took her initial vows. On the day of the ceremony she had her hair shorn. It was a traumatic experience. The Reverend Mother Prioress performed the act herself. She summoned Lucia into her office and motioned for her to sit down. She stepped behind her, and before Lucia knew what was happening, she heard the snip of scissors and felt something tugging at her hair. She started to protest, but she suddenly realized that what was happening could only improve her disguise.
When Lucia returned to the grim cubicle she had been assigned, she thought:
But what got on Lucia’s nerves most of all was the unnatural silence. The only communication was through hand signals, and learning those drove her crazy. When she needed a broom, she was taught to move her outstretched right hand from right to left, as though sweeping. When the Reverend Mother was displeased, she brought together the tips of her little fingers three times in front of her body, the other fingers pressing into her palm. When Lucia was slow in doing her work, the Reverend Mother pressed the palm of her right hand against her left shoulder. To reprimand Lucia, she scratched her own cheek near her right ear with all the fingers of her right hand in a downward motion.
They had reached the chapel. The nuns said a silent mass, the sequence from the age-old Sanctus to the Pater Noster, but Sister Lucia’s thoughts were on more important things than God.
After morning prayers, Sister Lucia marched with the others to the dining room, surreptitiously breaking the rule, as she did every day, by studying their faces. It was her only entertainment. It was incredible to think that none of them knew what the other sisters looked like.
She was fascinated by the faces of the nuns. Some were old, some were young, some pretty, some ugly. She could not understand why they all seemed so happy. There were three faces that Lucia found particularly interesting. One was Sister Teresa, a woman who appeared to be in her sixties. She was far from beautiful, and yet there was a spirituality about her that gave her an almost unearthly loveliness. She seemed always to be smiling inwardly, as though she carried some wonderful secret within herself.
Another nun that Lucia found fascinating was Sister Graciela. She was a stunningly beautiful woman in her early thirties. She had olive skin, exquisite features, and eyes that were luminous black pools.
The third nun who captured Lucia’s interest was Sister Megan. Blue-eyed, blonde eyebrows and lashes. She was in her late twenties and had a fresh, open faced look.
She was better off than they were, because they were stuck here for the rest of their lives, while she would be out of here in a month or two.
A few days earlier Sister Lucia had been sent by the Reverend Mother to the office to retrieve a paper and while there she had taken the opportunity to start looking through the files. Unfortunately she had been caught in the act of snooping.
‘You will do penance by using the Discipline,’ the Mother Prioress Betina signalled her.
Sister Lucia bowed her head meekly and signalled, ‘Yes, Reverend Mother.’
Lucia returned to her cell, and minutes later the nuns walking through the corridor heard the awful sound of the whip as it whistled through the air and fell again and again. What they could not know was that Sister Lucia was whipping the bed.
Now they were seated in the refectory, forty nuns at two long tables. The Cistercian diet was strictly vegetarian. Because the body craved meat, it was forbidden. Long before dawn, a cup of tea or coffee and a few ounces of dry bread were served. The principal meal was taken at 11.00 a.m., and consisted of a thin soup, a few vegetables and occasionally a piece of fruit.
When breakfast was ended, two nuns brought washing-up bowls to each end of the table and set them down. The sisters seated about the table sent their plates to the sister who had the bowl. She washed each plate, dried it on a towel and returned it to its owner. The water got darker and greasier.
She would have given her immortal soul for a cigarette.
Five hundred yards down the road, Colonel Ramon Acoca and two dozen carefully selected men from the GOE, the
Colonel Ramón Acoca had the instincts of a hunter. He loved the chase, but it was the kill that gave him a deep visceral satisfaction. He had once confided to a friend, ‘I have an orgasm when I kill. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a deer or a rabbit or a man – there’s something about taking a life that makes you feel like God.’
Acoca had been in military intelligence, and he had quickly achieved a reputation for being brilliant. He was fearless, ruthless and intelligent, and the combination brought him to the attention of one of General Franco’s aides.
Acoca had joined Franco’s staff as a lieutenant, and in less than three years he had risen to the rank of colonel, an almost unheard-of feat. He was put in charge of the Falangists, the special group used to terrorize those who opposed Franco.
It was during the war that Acoca had been sent for by a member of the OPUS MUNDO.
‘I want you to understand that we’re speaking to you with the permission of General Franco.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘We’ve been watching you, Colonel. We are pleased with what we see.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘From time to time we have certain assignments that are – shall we say – very confidential. And very dangerous.’
‘I understand, sir.’
‘We have many enemies. People who don’t understand the importance of the work we’re doing.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Sometimes they interfere with us. We can’t permit that to happen.’
‘No, sir.’
‘I believe we could use a man like you, Colonel. I think we understand each other.’
‘Yes, sir. I’d be honoured to be of service.’
‘We would like you to remain in the army. That will be valuable to us. But from time to time, we will have you assigned to these special projects.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘You are never to speak of this.’
‘No, sir.’
The man behind the desk had made Acoca nervous. There was something overpoweringly frightening about him.