January, 1529
For months now, it seemed that the Abbot had sought out Dominique constantly. He engaged her in conversation whenever he had the opportunity. They had spoken at great lengths about everything: her upbringing, her miserable relationship with her mother, books, gardening and Dominique’s plans for the future. He had spoken to her about Greek mythology and plays. Although for the most part he seemed sincere in his desire to connect, Dominique could not shake a feeling of discomfort around him. While she could not define what bothered her, he made her feel slightly uneasy.
His attentions had an effect on her relationship with Dafne, also. Dafne’s warnings still rang in Dominique’s ears. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, dear. He may seem charming on the surface, but it belies a core of self-serving evil and cunning. Beware of him.” Despite these warnings, Dominique could not shake the feeling that Dafne was somehow jealous of the Abbot’s focus on her. Becoming increasingly combative and snappy, Dafne went from a loving friend to someone who found fault with her constantly. Dominique had considered her one of her only friends at the convent. Even after the incident when Dafne had made an overture that could be considered sexual, Dominique had forgiven her and thought they had moved past any bad feelings. But that friendship was changing.
Dominique did not understand Dafne’s issues with the Abbot but her own may have stemmed from his position in this Church—a Church whose theology and ideology left Dominique with an increasing level of doubt and resentment. Her own ideas about God, Jesus and religious doctrine did not coincide with the Catholic Church’s position. Dominique was careful to keep such ideas to herself, despite the conversational prodding of the Abbot, such notions would be viewed as heresy. She was well aware of the punishment for heresy, as the Inquisitions were gaining popularity again. None the less, it gave her pause when considering her future and whether that future was with the Carmelite nuns.
Unfortunately, without the backing of the Church, Dominique found herself without too many options. There would be no arranged marriage for her. Despite having money in a trust, life for an unmarried woman outside these walls was not something anyone would have desired. But as she had done in the past, Dominique was determined to make the best of her situation and find a way to use her talents to help those around her. That is what her father would have expected of her and she would not disappoint him.
The Abbot’s proposition to her, with regard to her participation in the Confraternity, while intriguing, left her with some serious doubts. It was sometime after he had left the book on mythology and during one of their lengthy conversations that he had broached the subject. He had explained to her that he belonged to a group of businessmen and that they met at the Church in the small chapel. He made light of the whole thing but it seemed to Dominique that he was quite serious about the group. He had asked her if she might consider working with him in a play to be performed at the next meeting. He had explained the pagan roots of the group and that the Church had sanctioned such activities as a way of increasing their ranks at a time in history when people had been reticent to give up their traditional beliefs.
He assured her that she would in no way get into trouble with the nuns. To a certain extent, Dominique felt pleased that he had even asked her to participate. It was only play-acting but regardless the idea made her nervous and anxious. He had cajoled her and reassured her that she could do this but still the idea of performing before a group of masked men left her shaken. It was too late now for doubts, tonight was to be her first performance and soon she would have to put her fears aside and get on that stage.
The evening came upon her much too quickly. Dominique went to evening vespers as always but this evening she had a secret on her lips that the Abbot had been adamant about her guarding. The very existence of the brotherhood was of the utmost secrecy, their meetings being held in the dead of night. They met in the small, private chapel at the other side of the Abbey by the graveyard.
Dominique’s fingers trembled as she carefully braided her long tresses, just as the Abbot had instructed. She knew very little of what was expected of her other than the part they had rehearsed. Abbot Ian had likened it to theater. Dominique found that despite her nerves, there was a part of her that was intrigued by the idea of performance. In her role as High Priestess, Abbot Ian had made it clear she would be required for special ceremonies and initiations but that she would never be privy to their business meetings.
As soon as the convent was cloaked in silence and darkness, Dominique wrapped her heavy gray cloak over her shoulders and cautiously made her way to the chapel. Her eyes darted left and right to make sure no one had witnessed her exit from the convent and shielded the flame of her candle with her hand so that no one saw its light. The warmth of the candle flame was welcome against the cool night air and the chills of nerves that coursed through her body. She forced herself to breathe deeply and slowly in an effort to calm her heart’s rapid beat. This prelude to her meditation process always worked to calm her wild thoughts and quiet her mind. The ground crunched softly under her leather sabots and the stars shone so brightly, she barely needed the candle. Confined to her quarters after evening vespers, she had never had the opportunity to wander the grounds so late at night and she felt strangely exhilarated by the sense of freedom.
The Abbot had instructed her to use the rear door to the chapel giving her access to the altar from the vestry. She was told that when the drums began, she was to enter at the altar and that he would be there to meet her. Thankfully, he had warned her that the members of the brotherhood wore masks and cloaks as she imagined they made a frightful sight when gathered together.
Dominique removed her cloak and waited for the first drum beats. Her heart was pounding so hard, she was not sure for a moment if the drum had started or if it was the sound of her heart pounding out of her chest. Breathing to calm herself, she gingerly pushed aside the heavy, red drape that separated her from the altar and entered as she heard the drum beat. Even though she had tried to mentally prepare herself for the sight of the brotherhood, her breath caught sharply as she gasped. She willed herself not to scream. The masks, terrifying in their slick gray pallor and hollow eyes, had the look of death. She hoped the man who approached her was the Abbot but as their masks were identical and expressionless there was no way to be sure.
The room was small and lit to a golden hue entirely by candles that flickered in the drafty space. The entire group was chanting in time to the drumbeats in a language Dominique could not recognize. The Abbot, clad in his grotesque mask and rough, brown robe, took his place beside her on the altar. He peered at her through the hollowed spaces and she recognized his gray eyes under the hood that covered his head.
“Brothers,” he began as the drumbeat subsided, “I give you the Mother Goddess, the life-giver, she who brings into existence all life.” As the solemn words left his lips, he stepped behind her and deftly pulled her gray tunic up and over her head with one movement. Dominique let out a low gasp as she stood naked before this circle of men. The Abbot then produced a large basin with steamy water. She could smell the lavender, chamomile and peppermint which had been added to the ritual bath.
Reaching for the silver chalice on the altar, Abbot Ian dipped it into the scented water. “Oh, Element of Water, I call upon thee—cleanse and consecrate the body of this woman,” he chanted as he poured the scented water down her shivering form. Picking up a charred piece of wood, the Abbot began using it to draw a pentacle on the slate floor at her feet. “Oh Element of Earth, I call upon thee to cleanse and consecrate the blood of this woman.” All the while, the group swayed and chanted rhythmically. Next the Abbot grabbed the wand and waved it in the air making the shape of the pentacle as he chanted, “Oh Element of Fire, I call upon thee to cleanse and consecrate the spirit of this woman.” Dominique was terrified when he reached for the ceremonial dagger on the altar. The Abbot glided behind her and whispered, sardonically, “Fear not.” Then spoke to the group, “Oh Element of Air, I call upon thee to cleanse and consecrate the breath of this woman.” With these words, he drew the dagger and sliced her braid off in one smooth movement.
The long golden braid that had only moments earlier adorned her head and hung almost to her buttocks was now suspended in the Abbot’s hand over his head. The Abbot thundered, “Thy sacrifice symbolizes thy devotion to this Brotherhood. Strip off thy mortal vice and sin, as hairs cut from thy body. Renew thyself as Mother Goddess. Bestow upon us: thy fertility that our lands be fertile, thy healing that our bodies may know health, thy wisdom and spirit that our souls may know peace.”
A soft, diaphanous white tunic was slipped over Dominique’s head. An ornate golden headdress was placed on top of her head. She looked like one of the Grecian goddesses she had read about in the book of mythology the Abbot had given her. She was led by the hand to a large upholstered red chair at the altar, a chair typically reserved for the priest on high holy days. Her braid was hung on a nail by the doorway. When she was seated, the group dropped to their knees before her. The Abbot, also kneeling called out, “We have called upon the elements of Earth, Air, Fire and Water to consecrate thee as our High Priestess. We beseech thee to preside over this humble group with compassion and clear sight.”
The group ascended to their feet and, with the drumbeats sounding rhythmically, circled the room chanting what Dominique would later learn was an ancient Gaelic language. Dominique’s head was spinning in this surreal atmosphere. Part of her was mortified that she had stood naked before this group but the seed of exhilaration had been planted. While she could not discern expressions from these immovable masks, in their eyes she saw a look of appreciation. No one had ever looked at her like that. Their anonymity was actually freeing in a way. She had no idea who was behind the mask with the exception of the Abbot and therefore, felt no apology for her state of undress. Feeling invisible for much of her life, she liked the rush that their reverence gave her.
Dominique had no clue as to the importance of this farce with regard to the influence the Abbot now held over this group. The introduction of the symbolic leadership of the Mother Goddess, whom he controlled, in fact, meant that he now held the power over this group and he would use it to his ultimate advantage.
For Dominique, innocent of the Abbot’s scheming, felt only a small taste of power. Refreshingly, it was the first time she felt she might have a voice and perhaps even the opportunity to be master of her own destiny.