Free (2/3) The Teeth of the Gale by Joan Aiken

gold-and-ebony rosary. She took no notice of me, so I thought it polite to avert my eyes from her. I could hear the regular click of her beads though, and a rustle of rich silk when she moved. In a brief scrutiny as she entered I had noticed how fine and stylish she was, in her velvets and laces; she made me feel shabby, though I had dressed myself as neatly as I knew how.
    Every time the lady moved, a faint musky perfume drifted my way—very different from my great-aunt Josefinas lavender water!
    After another interminable period of waiting, during which the lady devoutly told her beads and I perched myself uncomfortably on a bench, gazing at St. Martin, a small bell rang once, sharply, and, with a loud clack, the shutters were folded back behind the iron grille. On the far side appeared the figure of a nun, in a black habit with a white headcloth. Her face was elderly, sharp-eyed, much wrinkled, and reminded me not a little of my great-aunt Isadora; I supposed that she was the Mother Superior.
    I rose silently, and bowed.
    In a dry, severe voice, she demanded, "Are you Felix de Cabezada y Brooke?"
    "Yes, Reverend Mother."
    "You are taller than I had been led to believe," she said in a tone of suspicion.
    Was I expected to apologize for my added inches? I did not know how to reply, therefore remained silent.
    I had moved toward the grille when the shutters opened, and now could not see the woman with the rosary, who was behind me; I did not know what notice, if any, she was taking of this exchange.
    The nun reflected. Next she seemed to beckon. Another white-robed form came into view, then quickly moved back out of sight.
    The elderly nun said, not to me, "Is that person Felix Brooke?"
    After an infinitesimal pause a quiet voice answered, "Yes, Reverend Mother."
    Had that been the voice of Juana? It was so soft, barely above a whisper, that I could not be certain. Nobody else in this place had known me before, though. It
must
be Juana.
    I clenched my hands together.
    The nun went on interrogating me.
    "You have been informed of the purpose for which you were summoned?"
    She addresses me as if I were a servant, I thought, with some resentment. Come here; go there; do this; do that. I was not summoned, I was invited. And no word of thanks for my speedy response...
    "Yes, Reverend Mother."
    "You have seen the letter that was sent to the Conde de Cabezada and are acquainted with its contents? And his reply?"
    "Yes, Reverend Mother."
    "You are prepared to undertake the rescue of the three unfortunate children of Manuel de la Trava, and remove them from the custody of their evil and demented father?"
    I felt like saying, Señora, for the chance to get another sight of Juana, I would be prepared to liberate Don Juan himself from the clutches of Mephistopheles, but contented myself with replying, for a third time, "Yes, Reverend Mother."
    "It is well. By God's grace this mission will be achieved. Have you any scheme in mind for how it is to be undertaken?"
    Rather taken aback, I answered, "No, señora. It would be idle to make any plans until I am furnished with information about where the man has taken refuge and how he is armed. And what state of mind he is in."
    She nodded, slowly, twice, as if moderately satisfied with this reply.
    "Have you a companion with you? Where are you staying?"
    I told her that I had brought Pedro Gonsalez, assistant to my grandfather's steward, and named our posada.
    "Humph ... You don't have expensive tastes, I see. Just as well. And what have you been doing with yourself, during the years since you were able to be of assistance to Señorita Esparza?"
    A little surprised, I answered staidly that I had been studying law, history, and literature at the University of Salamanca.
    "At Salamanca?" she said as if this were news to her. "Who were your tutors there?"
    This is uncommonly like the Inquisition, I thought; and decided that if women were permitted to hold positions in the Holy Office, Mother Agnese