July 1610 - Does it begin with the blackbird flying overhead? Was it an omen? Was that the face of Guy LeMerle? How many questions can you string together in a single paragraph?
Who am I? I cannot tell you. But yet I can. I am a strong dark woman of mystery. In my former life, I was Juliette, or L'Ailée, the winged one. Who could walk a rope better than me? Now, I am Soeur Auguste. These past five years, since Good Mère Marie took me in when I was with child, I have kept my counsel at the Abbey of Sainte Marie-de-la-Mer. My daughter, Fleur, stays with me, untouched by the past.
" Mon dieu," cried fat Soeur Antoine, " Mère Marie est morte."
Who would be our new abbess?
"I was Angelique Saint-Hervé Desirée Arnault," said the 12-year-old child, "but now I am Mère Isabelle, God's mouthpiece. This is my confessor, Père Colombin."
LeMerle. So the blackbird and the tarot hadn't lied. What was he doing here? No good, of that I was certain. We had been lovers once, but then I had taken many lovers when I was L'Ailée. Yet his betrayal at Epinal still hurt.
* * *
Ah yes, ma petite Ailée. I can see you recognise me. I know you think I left you to die at Epinal, but I knew no one could cage the winged one. You suspect me, but know nothing of my dastardly plot.
* * *
" Fleur est disparue ," wailed fat Antoine. "Père Colombin has taken her away."
So. I was in his thrall again. "What do you want?" I asked him plus tard .
"Put dye in the well and turn the water red."
"Satan is with us," wailed Mère Isabelle. " Nom de dieu," sobbed fat Antoine, "I have seen the Unholy Nun. There is witchcraft afoot."
* * *
It was all going to plan. Petite Ailée still didn't know what I had in store for the Bishop of Evreux, the man who once unmasked me.
* * *
"You plan to take your revenge against Mère Isabelle's oncle, the Bishop D'Evreux," I snarled, as we tore at each other's clothes and conjoined our bodies.
"You are a witch," Mère Isabelle intoned. "I lock you in the tower."
However would I escape? I heard the door open. It was dumb Perette, beckoning me.
"The abbey is possessed by Satan," LeMerle croaked.
" La honte, la honte ," said the bishop.
It was time for L'Ailée's final performance. I threw the rope across the battlements and started walking. "Père Colombin is an imposter."
"Arrest him," cried the bishop."
* * *
After finding Fleur, we hid for years. You may have heard that a lanterned lady rescued LeMerle from prison. Oui, c'était moi. He comes to me now. The dance goes on.
The digested read ... digested
Mills & Boon for the chattering classes
