Goddess of the Sea (27 page)

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.

She did notice that the sun was well overhead and that the day was pleasantly warm, but she was too busy cleaning to pay attention to much else—until she straightened up, groaning and rubbing at a kink in her back. Stretching, she stepped back and studied her work.

“Oh!” she gasped, struck by the sudden beauty of the statue. The newly cleansed Virgin seemed to glow with life. The warm light of the many candles illuminated the blue of her dress and the deep gold of her hair, and it seemed like she was surrounded with a halo of soft color.

“You are doing a wonderful job, Daughter.” Gaea's voice came from behind her, and CC turned to find the goddess perched on the edge of a nearby pew. Today she was wearing a gown made of silk so white and ethereal that it looked like the goddess had found a way to capture a cloud and wrap herself within it.

CC glanced around the chapel. She had no idea when the two monks had left, but she was relieved to see that the building was deserted.

“I'm glad you think so.” She wiped her wet hands on the dirt-smudged robe and walked over to Gaea. With a sigh she sank down to the floor at the goddess's feet. Leaning against the pew, she smiled up at Gaea. “It's tiring work, cleaning all that gunk away.”

Gaea's eyes drifted back to the statue. “She has been forgotten for years. I want you to know that you are washing away more than simple dirt. You are washing away hatred and neglect.”

“How could I do that? I don't understand.”

“You will, Daughter. You will.” The goddess reached out and smoothed a strand of hair back from CC's face. At her touch, CC felt some of the weariness leave her. “Now, I sense that you have come to a decision. Are you ready to tell me?”

CC nodded. Looking into the goddess's eyes she said, “I'm in love with Dylan, and I want to spend my life with him.”

For an instant CC thought she saw an incredible sadness pass over Gaea's face, but the emotion was gone so quickly that she wondered if it had just been her imagination.

“Dylan is a wise choice,” Gaea said, touching CC's cheek in a motherly caress.

“You mean except for the fact that I can't live in the sea without Sarpedon killing him and raping me?” CC put her chin in her hands and rested her elbows on her drawn-up knees.

“I must simply petition Lir on your behalf.”

CC glanced sideways at her, not fooled by the lightness in the goddess's voice.

“If it was really that simple you would have done it before now,” CC said.

“You did not know you loved Dylan until now,” Gaea countered.

“Do you think Lir will listen to you?” CC asked tentatively, almost afraid to hope.

Gaea's smile was one of a seductress. “He has before. You are proof of that.”

CC almost rolled her eyes and said she didn't want to hear the details, but she caught herself in time. Then she looked up to see the goddess watching her with sparkling eyes, and they both began to laugh.

“There are some things all daughters do not want to know,” Gaea said, wiping mirthful tears from her eyes.

“You're right about that,” CC said, then added, “Actually, you're right about most things. So, I'd like to know, do you think I'm making the right decision in choosing Dylan?”

“Before I answer you, I would like you to answer one question for me, Daughter. And do not ponder your answer; I want to know the first thought that comes to your mind.” The question shot out. “What do you love most about the merman?”

Without hesitation CC answered, “His kindness.”

“Ah,” the goddess breathed. “I see. Then, yes, I believe you have made a wise choice, for when the thrill of his body fades or changes, and the difficulties of pledging yourself to only one person surface, kindness will be the balm that soothes the wounds of life.”

“Thank you, Mother,” CC said softly, her eyes filled with tears.

Unexpectedly, Gaea found that she, too, had to blink back tears, and she cleared her throat delicately before she could speak again.

“I will call to Lir tonight. Perhaps I will have news for you as soon as tomorrow night.”

CC felt her heart skip. “Then maybe I won't have to change back into human form at all!”

Gaea returned the young woman's smile, careful to keep any sadness from showing on her face. “Perhaps,” she repeated. “But remember, child, the immortals have their own timetable, and gods, particularly, do not like to be rushed. Lir may take some persuading.” Gaea waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

CC pulled a face at her, and they sat together in compatible silence, each woman lost in dreams of the future, as the goddess slowly stroked her daughter's hair.

After several minutes CC said, “You know, it's not just the statue that is in bad shape over here.” With a flick of her wrist she gestured, encompassing that entire side of the chapel. “This whole area is a mess. It's like someone purposely wanted this part of the chapel to repel people. You wouldn't believe all the filth I've found, and all I've focused on so far has been the statue.” She pointed into the thickly shadowed corners. “I haven't started cleaning over there, yet, but it smells like some animal has used this place as a toilet. It's disgusting.”

Gaea shook her head sadly. “It is what William has allowed, even encouraged. Having the statue of the Mother forgotten was not enough for him. He wanted it fouled and desecrated.”

“Why? What's wrong with him?” CC asked.

“William is a complicated soul, and an excellent example of what happens to a man when he embraces all the negative aspects of power. He controls through fear and manipulation, preying on the weakness of others so that his own weaknesses will not be discovered. That is a particularly dangerous path for a man who has chosen the priesthood. Instead of embracing love, he encourages his followers to turn to fear and denial for salvation. In truth, he is a very passionate man, who at one time had a great deal of love to give.” Gaea sighed. “Now he is a sad, twisted man. I pity him, but I am relieved that you will not have to stay near him for much longer.” The goddess shook back her hair like she was flinging away a bad habit. “Enough of such morose thoughts! I must ready myself to call Lir, but first I believe I should give my hardworking daughter a little aid with her task.”

The goddess approached the statue. Surprised, CC stood and followed her. Gaea stopped in front of the newly cleaned Virgin.

“Yes, I remember well that the devoted young sculptor wanted to add a little something to the hair, but the abbot who commissioned the work could not afford it. . . .” Gaea's words faded as she smiled secretly to herself.

“You knew the man who sculpted this?” CC asked, intrigued with the idea.

“Of course! How do you think he copied my features so well?” She smiled mischievously at CC. “I pretended to be a shepherdess who just happened to cross his path as he was praying for inspiration for the Virgin's statue. It was a pleasure to grant the prayers of such a talented artist.” Her playful smile widened. “I have always believed art should not be controlled by one's purse. Do you agree, Daughter?”

Grinning, CC nodded.

“Good! Then I shall complete the sculptor's work.”

CC watched as the goddess held open her left hand, palm up. With her right hand she swirled the air above her palm until CC could clearly see a little tornado of sparkles that looked like floating gold dust. Speaking to the swirling dust, the goddess intoned,
“Complete what the artist began. So have I spoken; so shall it be.”
Then she blew gently on the little spiral and it burst apart. In a shower of golden waterfall, it rained down on the statue, settling like a fairy cloud into Mary's hair. For an instant more it twinkled and glistened magically, then Gaea made a little clucking sound, tongue against teeth.

“Not so brightly, beautiful ones,” she said, and the twinkling died to the more earthly shine of plain, pressed gold.

“It's so lovely!” CC exclaimed, then she sobered. “But won't this cause Abbot William to ask me a lot of difficult-to-answer questions, like ‘How did you cast a spell on the statue, Princess?' ” CC scowled, imitating the abbot's simpering tone.

Gaea laughed lightly. “No, child, then he would have to admit that he knew what the holy statue looked like in its glory, thus proving that he purposefully allowed it to be forgotten and misused.” She shook her head. “That would open too many difficult-to-answer questions for him. There are still good people left at Caldei, people who would be upset by the intentional desecration of the Virgin's image. William does not want to do anything to awaken them from their apathy.” She took her daughter's hand. “But know that even though he will not mention its gilding, he will recognize that it has been added to the statue, and he will know that you are responsible. Beware of him, especially tonight and tomorrow when I may be otherwise occupied and unable to come quickly if you have need of me.”

“I'll be care—” she started to say, but the sound of someone entering the chapel interrupted them.

CC glanced at the doors to see the distinctive shape of Isabel's limping body framed against the outside light. Suddenly the goddess was gone. CC sighed, but put on a happy face as Isabel approached.

Isabel looked around the sanctuary. “I thought I heard you talking to someone, Princess.”

“I was just talking to the Holy Mother, telling her how wonderful she looks.”

The old woman turned her questioning gaze to the statue and her eyes widened, instantly filling with tears. Trembling, she approached the Virgin and dropped to her knees in front of her with a grace that surprised CC.

“Look at her! I have never seen anything so beautiful. It is as if the Holy Mother glows with life.” Isabel bowed her head and clasped her hands. When she was finished praying she genuflected and rose unsteadily to her feet. Then she turned to face CC.

“You did this. You brought her back to life. Thank you,” Isabel said simply.

“There's no need to thank me, Isabel. And anyway, in a place filled with men, women need to stick together. Don't you think so?”

“Yes, Princess.”

This time when Isabel used the title she did so with a smile, changing it from a formality to a term of endearment. CC could hardly believe how that genuine smile transformed the old woman's face. For the first time CC glimpsed the more youthful Isabel that hid behind the old woman's mask of bitterness.

“You must be hungry, Undine. You have worked through the day. It is almost time for vespers.”

CC was surprised that so much time had passed. “It seems like it shouldn't even be midday yet.” She looked down at her grimy robe. “Much as I would like to stay and watch the monks' reactions when they first see our statue, I don't think I'm dressed appropriately for vespers.”

Isabel's face had split into another happy grin when CC used the word
our
, to describe the statue, and CC felt a rush of pleasure at the old woman's obvious joy.

“Let us change this soiled robe for clean clothes,” Isabel said.

“Clean clothes sound wonderful,” CC said.

She emptied the bucket of filthy water outside, and she and Isabel walked slowly through the garden, chattering about what cleaning supplies CC would need the next morning to continue the renovation.

They took a little turn in the path and walked through an area of the gardens that CC didn't recognize. That part of the gardens lacked flowers, but on either side of the path were sectioned off row after row of small, neat-looking plants. CC paused to take a closer look at the greenery.