Page 81 of The Rebellious Countess
When they got closer to the water, she understood. Accompanying Father Charles in a small pleasure boat was another holy man, who appeared to be of higher rank, if his manner and dress were any indication. He sat at the helm wrapped in a ruby-redcappa magnarobe with a train long enough to fill more than half the boat.
“With all due respect, Your Eminence, the robe must go.” Elias’s voice brokered no other options.
The cardinal’s posture stiffened, his voice full of authority. “It will not. You will make two trips across the bay.”
“I will be making one. With or without you.”
The silence that fell over them was deafening. Sea water lashed at the little boat as Father Charles jumped out to hold it steady. Sébastien’s head turned back and forth between the two formidable men starring each other down. Aventine stepped forward and reached out her hand. Máira wasn’t certain if it was meant to help the cardinal out of the boat or take his robes.
“Father Charles, I order you to take me to safety.”
Everyone looked at the priest who was stuck in the middle of a losing battle as Máira grabbed the opposite side of the boat.
Father Charles shook his head. “I—I cannot take this boat across the bay alone. Tonight, the tide is beyond my strength.”
Máira didn’t believe the priest to be lying. The tide was indeed treacherous as white caps swirled in an eerie pattern around the island, some crashing into the rocks, others being swallowed by their own force.
“Either take off the robes or step out of the boat. If you don’t, I will throw you out of the boat, Cardinal.”
The cardinal stared down his thin nose at Elias, and Aventine snapped her extended hand with impatience. For a moment, Máira thought the cardinal would step out of the boat, until he tore his ceremonial robe from his body, and began folding it as if he planned to keep it.
“Mother,” Elias said, his voice tinged with anger.
It was all that was necessary. Aventine place one foot in the middle of the boat, grabbed the robe and hopped off once more, the robe dragging in the water behind her.
“How dare?—”
“A man of God would not value a piece of cloth more than a human life, would he?” Aventine asked, but the cardinal turned his head away, his nose so high in the air, Máira suspected the angels could see it.
“I need that cut in long strips.” Elias said, and the cardinal gasped as he made the sign of the cross. Father Charles closed his eyes and sighed, while Sébastien watched on with his mouth dropped open and his eyes as big as the full moon peeking out from the clouds.
Aventine pulled a knife from her boot and cut the train from the robe and then cut it into long strips with Sébastien’s help. When they were finished, Aventine rolled the rest of the robe into a ball, jumped up, and stuffed the entire garment into a drainage vent off the stone tower, effectively preventing the ruby red cloth from alerting any guards who might look over the ramparts.
“Get in the boat, Mother.”
“I can hang?—”
“Get. In. The. Boat.”
Aventine bristled almost as much as the cardinal had.
“You can’t swim. You are a liability outside the boat. Inside, you can care for Astley and Sébastien.”
Elias turned to her. “You said you were a good swimmer.”
“I am.”
“Have you ever gone up against a current like this?”
She couldn’t lie. Other than the open ocean, she had never seen waves such as these. Even the loch in the dead of winter didn’t reach this level of hidden brutality. “No, but I swam the loch all the time. This water feels like bath water in comparison. I can do it.”
Elias grinned and then addressed the cardinal. “Your Eminence, I need you in the front of the boat with the boy.” The cardinal’s only movement was the firm press of his lips into a thin line. Her husband wasn’t fazed. “Unless you would like to do the rowing.”
The cardinal moved without argument, his displeasure evident in his stiff posture as he made his way forward.
Elias watched the ramparts for signs of their discovery while Aventine helped Sébastien into the stern, and proceeded to the bow, where she made herself ready to cradle Simon against her body. Elias waded into the thrashing waves, pulled Simon from his shoulders and laid him between his mother’s legs. The cardinal shot a glance over his shoulder, his disapproval evident.
Father Charles whispered, “A light just appeared on the rampart. We must go.”
