Page 75 of Unforgotten
33
Fear Not
MOTHER SHONA’S HEART sank when she spied Abbot Camron. The noon meal had just concluded, and the nuns were filing out of the kirk, heading toward their sleeping quarters, where they would rest a while before beginning their afternoon chores.
The sight of the heavy-set figure riding toward her upon a mule, his monks shuffling in his wake, made a heavy sigh rise up within the abbess.
It had taken many days for the atmosphere in the abbey to calm after MacKinnon’s disruption. Now, the abbot risked upsetting the sisters again. His visit a decade earlier had been three of the most unpleasant months she’d ever passed. Yet she instinctively knew that his appearance at Kilbride now had nothing to do with paying the abbey a visit.
The abbess halted, watching as the abbot struggled off his long-suffering steed, and turned to her.
“Peace be upon ye, Father,” she greeted him with a tight smile. “How unexpected … we did not receive prior word of yer arrival.”
“Peace be upon ye, Mother,” the abbot mumbled through swollen lips. “That’s because I did not send it.”
Close up, the abbess saw that Abbot Camron had received a harsh blow to the mouth. His lips were swollen and encrusted with scabs.
“Our Holy Father,” she murmured. “Were ye set upon by outlaws?”
“No,” the abbot snarled before wincing. Reaching up, he dabbed a handkerchief to his mouth. It came away bloody, for one of the scabs had just split open once more. “Gavin MacNichol, curse him to hell, is responsible.”
Shocked murmurs followed these words as the monks, who had halted behind the abbot, started to whisper amongst themselves.
“Silence, ye chattering fools,” the abbot growled, dabbing his mouth again. He then shifted his attention fully upon the abbess.
Mother Shona felt herself stiffen under his scrutiny. Abbot Camron had small, dark eyes that reminded her of a bird of prey. They gleamed now as he observed her. “I’ve just come from Scorrybreac.”
“MacKinnon contacted ye?” Heaviness settled over the abbess. She should have realized that the clan-chief would do so; he’d certainly been angry enough when he’d left Kilbride. Surprisingly, no one in Torrin had betrayed them, not even the priest. Nonetheless, the abbess knew he’d learn that Gavin and Ella had wed sooner or later. Skye wasn’t large enough for such events to go unnoticed.
“Of course he did!” The abbot spat out the words, his ruddy cheeks deepening in color even further. “As ye should have, Mother Shona.”
“I saw no need. I dealt with Sister Annella as I saw fit.”
The abbot drew himself up. “Ye take too much upon yerself, abbess. The nun had taken her vows of perpetuity. Ye could not cast her from the order without requesting permission from the Holy See.”
The abbess frowned, her irritation rising. “There was no time for that. We live far from Rome, abbot … I had to make a decision, for the welfare of this abbey.”
“The Pope will hear of this,” the abbot ground out the words, his portly frame vibrating with fury now. “I will write to him … I will inform him of yer arrogance … yerincompetence.”
Mother Shona let out a long, measured breath. She’d been ready to invite the abbot and his monks in. They all looked hungry and travel-weary. Yet Abbot Camron’s threat made her temper flare. After her election, she’d worked hard to strengthen Kilbride over the years; the previous abbess had left it weak and impoverished.
She knew she was unorthodox in her views—and if the abbot knew the full extent of her activities, he’d have written to the Holy See years earlier to demand her removal—but she had always served God faithfully.
“Well, if ye intend to do so, I won’t keep ye,” she replied crisply. “Good day, abbot … if ye travel hard, ye should make Dunan by nightfall.”
Abbot Camron’s face stiffened. “We are remaining here overnight.”
The abbess made a clicking noise with her tongue before shaking her head. “I’m afraid not. Since ye find me arrogant and incompetent, I feel it wouldn’t be right to invite ye into the abbey overnight. Ye should continue on yer journey and find lodgings somewhere that is less offensive to ye. May peace be upon ye.”
The abbot’s cheeks deepened to puce. Glaring at the abbess, he drew his robes around him, turned, and attempted to mount his mule. The beast side-stepped, the ornaments and bells that adorned it jingling, before it let out an ear-splitting whinny; it wasn’t like the sound of a horse, but rather a strangled noise that sounded like someone was sawing wood with a blunt iron saw.
“Help me, ye fools!” The abbot wheezed. An instant later two monks were at his side, helping him into the saddle.
Watching him go, Mother Shona felt a pang of misgiving.
I shouldn’t have done that.
Sometimes she forgot she possessed a fiery temper. Life in the order had softened her, as had the passing years, yet the sin of pride occasionally raised its head.
