'It must have been the wine after all,' Sister Lupa said, drawing back the crumpled sheets.
Olivia sat up and rubbed her throbbing temples. Her throat felt as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper.
'A dream,' she murmured. 'A terrible nightmare. The ceiling changed. I saw stars and a woman.' She looked up at the vaulted roof. Nothing had changed; stone ribs and flaking paint. 'She came down from the sky and made love to me, right here on this very bed.' Her hand moved sheepishly between her legs. Her labia felt tender. Under her bottom the sheet was damp. She tried to recall more of her dream, but it only returned in fragments; not enough to give a clear account. But she did remember the inanimate organ that gave her so much pleasure.
'How could that be?' Sister Lupa asked. 'You said it was a woman who came to you.'
Then Olivia remembered. 'The painted ceiling in the punishment room. It was her - I swear it.'
'Gosh, you were dreaming. That painting is of the Abbess who was persecuted and driven here by the Holy Inquisition.'
'Well?'
'My dear Olivia, do you not know your history? That was over four hundred years ago. Now be a good girl and drink up your milk.'
Olivia was still not convinced. It had been more than a dream. It was so vivid she had seen starry skies above, had been made love to by a beautiful hermaphrodite, and she now sat in the evidence of her own passions. She shuddered as a terrible thought dawned on her.
'Sister Lupa, do you think I'm going mad?'
'Don't be so silly,' she laughed dismissively. 'You're much better now, and the Mistress has said you can get up today. I think she wants you to help the seamstress.'
Olivia dressed slowly, thinking things over. She knew she had been tricked into coming here, Sister Letitia had said so. She thought of her plan to escape in one of the visiting waggons, but it might be ages before another delivery arrived, and by then it might be too late for her. She dared not think of what horrors might befall her in this godforsaken place.
She brushed her hair and then paced up and down the dormitory. An idea quickly came to mind, utterly foolish, but it might just work. Her heart thumped. All she needed was a scrap of paper and a pencil. She would write a note, saying who and where she was. She had seen the ravens flying around the convent and had noticed they were tame enough for the nuns to feed from the hand. If she could attach the note to one it might get carried to a town or something. It was ridiculous, but no matter how remote the possibility, she had to give it a try. There was nothing else left.
To her great relief Sister Lupa saw no objection in writing a note to Flora, telling her she was quite happy to stay there until things were sorted out. Fortunately she left Olivia alone after bringing the paper and pencil and Olivia, thinking fast, wrote one note to Flora and another to whoever might find it. Then she opened the window and spread crumbs all over the sill. She scattered a few more inside the dormitory and sat down to wait.
It wasn't long before her messenger arrived, a remarkably docile creature, so stupid it went on picking at the crumbs while she tied her note to one of its legs. Then she chased it out of the window and watched it go flapping over the battlements, struggling to gain height with the weight of its fat belly pulling it earthward. Thank God no one she knew in London was here to witness this; a young lady living in the nineteenth century, trapped in a mediaeval convent and tying distress messages to the legs of a bird. She had to keep reminding herself, as she made her way to the seamstress, that she was not mad. It was her only practical hope. Anyone else would have done the same.
It was late afternoon when the Mistress found Olivia quietly sewing a torn habit.
'The Abbess wishes to speak with you, Miss Holland.' Her eyes twinkled behind her glasses. 'I think she's had a change of heart.'
The habit fell from Olivia's hands. 'She has? You mean, I'm free to go?'
'Let's just say you don't have to do that any more.' And she took Olivia's hand and led her to the Abbess.
At last she had an audience with the high priestess of this madhouse. She laughed at the thought of how she had tied a piece of paper to the raven. With luck no one would find it now she was going to be released. What a silly idea that had been. It must be Flora, come to get her out. She was still smiling when the Mistress opened a door and ushered her inside.
Olivia seated herself on a stool before a large desk as requested. The Abbess was sitting behind the desk, and as Olivia looked up her heart sank and her complexion drained. Her hands shook. Should she tell the Abbess about her dream and how closely the Abbess resembled the woman who had plundered her? No, that would be unwise. No need to complicate things now that she was about to be rid of the place.
'What is the matter?' the Abbess asked, smiling casually.
'Oh, nothing,' Olivia managed. 'I'm just tired.'
'You had a bad night? Well, we all get those from time to time. And sometimes it makes us become irrational, doing things we wouldn't ordinarily do, behaving in ways we wouldn't ordinarily behave.'
Olivia's heart sank further. 'I'm sure I don't know what you mean.'
'I think you do,' the Abbess said ominously. 'I was unaware that your husband is a barrister at Lincoln Inn.'
Olivia crossed her legs and started fidgeting with her sleeve. Her nipples tingled and pushed at the cotton. Her foot tapped nervously on the floor. Her eyes lowered to avoid the piercing amber stare. How on earth could the Abbess know about Rupert? Had she confided in anybody since arriving here? No... it could only be...
At that moment there was a ferocious beating of wings and Olivia looked up again.
'Miss Holland, I'd like you to meet Judas,' the Abbess smiled as the odious creature settled on her desk, 'my pet raven. He's so handsome - don't you think?'
Words hid from Olivia, and despite opening her mouth none were forthcoming.
'And so loyal to me.'
'Look... your grace,' Olivia found the words and stammered, still unfamiliar with the correct form of address. 'I said I had a bad dream, and you said yourself that a lack of good sleep makes us become—'
'So irrational that we tie a note to the leg of a bird in the hope that a knight in shining armour will come to the rescue?' The Abbess was cruelly mocking poor Olivia. 'My dear child - that sort of happy ending only occurs in fairy tales. I suppose you were going to live happily ever after?'
Tears blurred Olivia's vision. She sniffed and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Not only had her hopes of escaping been totally quashed, but she also felt like a foolish infant.
'I'm afraid the silly note never had a chance of reaching your hero-knight. It arrived on my desk only minutes after you'd written it.' She turned to the wretched creature and stroked it under the beak. 'He probably assumed it was addressed to me - didn't you, Judas.'
Olivia could have killed it there and then. 'I didn't know it was a friend of yours,' she said bitterly.
'Probably the most reliable I have,' she smiled, leaning forward until her breasts rested on the desktop. She clasped her hands together as if in prayer and closed her eyes. Her habit was cut low, and Olivia surreptitiously glanced at the ample flesh bulging and threatening to burst free.
'It's all due to those couple of days in the infirmary,' the Abbess said at length. 'Lazing on your back with nothing more to do than touch yourself sinfully.'
'I didn't!' Olivia pleaded her innocence. 'I did no such thing!'
'That is not what Sister Lupa tells me. Apparently the evidence of your guilt clearly marked your sheets this morning.'
Olivia blushed profusely. She could not deny the sheets. 'But, I—'
'A passionate young lady such as yourself needs something to occupy her mind, and her body.'
This sounded sinister.
'You will therefore wait at the tables in the refectory this supper.'
Olivia sighed quietly; she was expecting a severe punishment, but waiting on tables didn't sound too bad. 'Now get out.'