Сидни Шелдон – The Sands of Time (страница 9)
Lucia watched as Sister Teresa picked up the cross and carefully put it back in its wrapping. Lucia smiled to herself. It was going to be easy to take it. These nuns would do anything she told them.
The town of Ávila was in an uproar. News of the attack on the convent had spread quickly, and Father Berrendo was elected to confront Colonel Acoca. The priest was in his seventies, with an outward frailty that belied his inner strength. He was a warm and understanding shepherd to his parishioners. But at the moment he was filled with a cold fury.
Colonel Acoca kept him waiting for an hour, then allowed the priest to be shown into his office.
Father Berrendo said without preamble, ‘You and your men attacked a convent without provocation. It was an act of madness.’
‘We were simply doing our duty,’ the Colonel said curtly. The Abbey was sheltering Jaime Miró and his band of murderers, so the sisters brought this on themselves. We’re holding them for questioning.’
‘Did you find Jaime Miró in the Abbey?’ the priest demanded angrily.
Colonel Acoca said smoothly, ‘No. He and his men escaped before we got there. But we’ll find them, and justice will be done.’
The nuns travelled slowly. Their garb was ill-designed for the rugged terrain. Their sandals were too thin to protect their feet against the stony ground, and their habits caught on everything. Sister Teresa found she could not even say her rosary. She needed both hands to keep the branches from snapping in her face.
In the light of day, freedom seemed even more terrifying than before. God had cast the sisters out of Eden into a strange, frightening world, and His guidance that they had leaned on for so long was gone. They found themselves in an uncharted country with no map and no compass. The walls that had protected them from harm for so long had vanished and they felt naked and exposed. Danger was everywhere, and they no longer had a place of refuge. They were aliens. The unaccustomed sights and sounds of the country were dazzling. There were insects and bird songs and hot, blue skies assaulting the senses. And there was something else that was disturbing.
When they first fled the convent, Teresa, Graciela and Megan had carefully avoided looking at one another, instinctively keeping to the rules. But now, each found herself avidly studying the faces of the others. Also, after all the years of silence, they found it difficult to speak, and when they did speak, their words were halting, as though they were learning a strange new skill. Their voices sounded strange in their ears. Only Lucia seemed uninhibited and sure of herself, and the others automatically turned to her for leadership.
‘We might as well introduce ourselves,’ Lucia said. ‘I’m Sister Lucia.’
There was an awkward pause, and Graciela said shyly, I’m Sister Graciela.’
‘I’m Sister Megan.’
I’m Sister Teresa.’
As they lay in the woods resting outside of the village, Lucia thought:
Lucia walked to the edge of the clearing they were in and peered through the trees towards the little village below. A few people were walking along the street, but there was no sign of the men who had raided the convent.
She turned to the others. ‘I’m going down to the village to try to get us some food. You wait here.’ She nodded towards Sister Teresa. ‘You come with me.’
Sister Teresa was confused. For thirty years she had obeyed only the orders of Reverend Mother Betina and now suddenly this sister had taken charge.
‘Right. When we get down there, we’ll ask for directions.’
The two of them started down the hill towards the town, Lucia keeping a careful lookout for trouble. There was none.
They reached the outskirts of the little town. A sign said, ‘Villacastin’. Ahead of them was the main street. To the left was a small, deserted street.
Lucia turned into the side street. ‘Let’s go this way. There’s less chance of being seen.’
Sister Teresa nodded and obediently followed Lucia. The question now was how to get the cross away from her.
The small limb of a tree had fallen to the ground in front of her, and Lucia paused, then stooped to pick it up. It was heavy.
‘Sister Teresa …’
The nun turned to look at her, and as Lucia started to raise the club, a male voice from out of nowhere said, ‘God be with you, Sisters.’
Lucia spun around, ready to run. A man was standing there, dressed in the long brown robe and cowl of a friar. He was tall and thin, with an aquiline face and the saintliest expression Lucia had ever seen. His eyes seemed to glow with a warm inner light, and his voice was soft and gentle.
‘I’m Friar Miguel Carrillo.’
Lucia’s mind was racing. Her first plan had been interrupted. But now, suddenly, she had a better one. ‘Thank God you found us,’ Lucia said.
This man was going to be her escape. He would know the easiest way for her to get out of Spain.
‘We come from the Cistercian convent near Ávila,’ Lucia explained. ‘Last night some men raided it. All the nuns were taken. Four of us managed to escape.’
When the friar replied, his voice was filled with anger, ‘I come from the monastery at Saint Generro, where I have been for the past twenty years. We were attacked the night before last.’ He sighed. ‘I know that God has some plan for all His children, but I must confess that at this moment I don’t understand what it might be.’
‘These men are searching for us,’ Lucia said. ‘It is important that we get out of Spain as fast as possible. Do you know how that can be done?’
Friar Carrillo smiled gently. ‘I think I can help you, Sister. God has brought us together. Take me to the others.’
Lucia brought the friar to the group.
‘This is Friar Carrillo,’ she said. ‘He’s been in a monastery for the last twenty years. He’s come to help us.’
Their reactions to the friar were mixed. Graciela dared not look directly at him. Megan studied him with quick, interested glances, and Sister Teresa regarded him as a messenger sent by God, who would lead them to the convent at Mendavia.
Friar Carrillo said, ‘The men who attacked the convent will undoubtedly keep searching for you. But they will be looking for four nuns. The first thing we must do is get you a change of clothing.’
Megan reminded him, ‘We have no clothes to change into.’
Friar Carrillo gave her a beatific smile. ‘Our Lord has a very large wardrobe. Do not worry, my child. He will provide. Let us go into town.’
It was two o’clock in the afternoon, siesta time, and Friar Carrillo and the four sisters walked down the main street of the village, alert for any signs of their pursuers. The shops were closed, but the restaurants and bars were open and from them they could hear strange music issuing, hard, dissonant and raucous sounding.
Friar Carrillo saw the look on Sister Teresa’s face. ‘That’s rock and roll,’ he said. ‘Very popular with the young these days.’
A pair of young women standing in front of one of the bars stared at the nuns as they passed. The nuns stared back, wide-eyed, at the strange clothing the pair wore. One wore a skirt so short it barely covered her thighs, the other wore a longer skirt that was split up. to the sides of her thighs. Both wore tight knitted bodices with no sleeves.
In the doorway stood a man who wore a turtleneck sweater, a strange-looking jacket without a collar, and a jewelled pendant.
Unfamiliar odours greeted the nuns as they passed a bodega. Nicotine and whisky.
Megan was staring at something across the street. She stopped.
Friar Carrillo said, ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ He turned to look.
Megan was watching a woman carrying a baby. How many years had it been since she had seen a baby, or even a small child? Not since the orphanage, fourteen years ago. The sudden shock made Megan realize how far her life had been removed from the outside world.
Sister Teresa was staring at the baby, too, but she was thinking of something else.