Page 121 of Nightshade

“Think of whom?” Lustina unclipped more linens from the clothing line, quickly folding them and placing them into the basket.

“The villagers. They are simple people. And they certainly do not know your good nature. If they did, I suspect they would all be raving over your delicious cheese pies, the way the rest of us do.” She chuckled, tossing another folded bedsheet into the basket.

“If only cheese pies could erase the judgement in their eyes, I would bake every day.”

Aurelia sighed, the sympathetic look on her face as genuine as if she were talking to the Reverend Mother herself, and not the daughter of a wretched sinner. “Someday, they will see you differently. You are destined for something good, my sweet friend.”

“And you are far too kind.” The smile on Lustina’s face faded, as she caught sight of the door leading toward the undercroft, standing off in the distance like a dark thunderstorm. “Pentash, can I show you something?”

“Of course. What is it?”

The very thought of what she wished to show her stirred a sickness in the girl’s gut. “Down in the undercroft. It is perhaps the most horrific thing I have ever seen.”

The young pentash’s brows came together. “The rooms we are not permitted to enter.”

Looking away was all Lustina could do to avoid what would surely be disappointment in her friend’s eyes. “It was not my intent to venture there, but I did. And … what I saw--”

“Show me.” Aurelia’s resolute tone punctuated the assured look in her eyes when she nodded. “I want to see.”

Looking around the courtyard showed only Pentash Maria folding laundry at the opposite end of the clothes line. The pentroshes had gone in for their afternoon Liturgy and there was no one else in sight.

With a nod, Lustina led Aurelia to the door.

“Where are you two going?” Maria asked, jogging across the courtyard, her robe fluttering over the dirt, while the long, beaded crucifix bounced at her hip. “Wait for me!”

Finger pressed to her lips, Aurelia urged her to be quiet, and when Maria finally caught up to them, she lowered her voice and asked, “Why do you stand by the undercroft door?”

“Lustina wants to show us something,” Aurelia snapped in a hushed tone. “Keep your voice down.”

“The rooms …” Maria spoke quieter that time. “They are forbidden.”

“Then, perhaps you might keep watch.”

With a quick glance around, Maria nodded. “Of course.”

Lustina entered the undercroft first, the cool air casting a chill over her skin, and led Aurelia to the thick door where the baron had once taken her. Even so much as the memory of it left her trembling, as she reached for the handle. She opened it onto the room that stood beyond--the chains that dangled from the ceiling, tools hanging on the walls, the crosses and restraints.

Eyes wide with horror, Aurelia stepped inside, looking around. “What is this?”

“It is where Bishop Venable has been conducting his experiments.”

“Experiments? On whom?”

“I am not certain how many, but I am aware the baron is one.”

Brows pinched, she shook her head. “This is …. This is an unholy place. A chamber of torture.” Tears filled her eyes, and Lustina could only imagine what horrific scenes came to mind, as the girl swept her gaze over the props within. Perhaps the same nightmarish visuals that had plagued Lustina, herself, since the baron first showed her the room.

Having crossed the small space to the wall, Aurelia lifted the leather bands of a whip, where blood still stained the black threads. “Merciful Father, who could carry out such pain on another?”

“What is taking so lo--” At the sound of Maria’s voice, Lustina turned to find her standing in the doorway, eyes also brimming with terror. “Oh, unholy suffering, what is this place?”

“We should inform the Pentash Mother,” Lustina said, but at the tight grasp of her arm, she looked down to find Aurelia’s hand gripping her, her bones vibrating with the girl’s trembling.

The young pentash shook her head. “No. We should not tell her about this.” Finally peeling her gaze from the surroundings, she stared back at Lustina, a mixture of sadness and disbelief claiming her expression. “I suspect she is as faultless as the bishop. Allow me to speak with Friar Felix. I believe he can help us.”

“How?”

“He will be returning to Rome soon. I will make the Pope aware of this abomination.”