Dominique had not had her menses for almost two months now and she was so violently ill each morning that she was convinced she had contracted the plague. While the plague might have presented a welcome release from the Abbot’s unwelcome nightly visits to her bedchamber, she thought that was probably not the case. A vision of her unborn baby girl rested behind her closed eyes this morning. She could see every detail of her tiny countenance; the little lips just the color of a pink rosebud, the soft round cheeks…and the gray eyes that looked just like the Abbot’s.
She had awoken with a start, sweat beading on her forehead and breathing hard. She was with child, of that, she was certain.
Those visits during the cold, silence of the night had been unrelenting. She had spent a lot of time imploring her guide for help, praying and meditating and had finally resigned herself to the harsh realities of her situation. That glimmer of power felt after the Confraternity ceremony had vanished as she became slave to the Abbot’s carnal desires. Dominique had, however, learned the art of turning herself inward during those abhorrent visits. He may have control of her body, but he would never control her mind and spirit.
As he grunted and groaned over her, his hot breath unleashed on her face, she would mentally go to her garden and surround herself with the lavender, red hibiscus and delicate purple bells of her campanula. Here, he had no power, he could not touch her.
This life inside her presented Dominique with new challenges and conflicts. However despicable the conception, this child belonged to Dominique. She was of her flesh and spirit but could she love her when she saw the Abbot in her eyes. And how was she to take care of this life she carried, outside of the protection and security of the Church?
Her predicament seemed almost insurmountable as the months progressed. She felt so alone. There was no one with whom she could share her secret. The friendship she had once shared with Dafne had been replaced by a cold tolerance on Dafne’s part. Dominique was at a loss to understand exactly why their once warm friendship had fallen by the wayside. The only thing that she could imagine was that Dafne had been upset by her participation in the Confraternity. She had been furious when Dominique had shared the secret of her role as High Priestess, which had proven too huge to bear alone. While her reaction should have increased Dafne’s ire towards the Abbot, her anger seemed directed at Dominique. Chastising Dominique for her stupidity in becoming involved, it seemed that her anger was really due to the fact that she herself had not been asked to participate. Dominique knew that the imminent arrival of a child would bring her no sympathy from Dafne.
Her only other friend had been Helene. But Helene had left the convent some time before and had opened her apothecary in the town. Her dreams having been realized, Helene was unconcerned with the people she had left behind at the convent. Dominique was happy for her, albeit a little envious that Helene had found a way out of the hell that Dominique now inhabited.
Fearful that the Mother Superior or Sister Marguerite would discover the secret life that continued to grow within, Dominique carefully hit her increasing girth. She thanked the Lord for loose tunics and cloaks as the weather grew cooler. Even the Abbot had mistaken her sickness for some communicable disease and had blissfully been leaving her alone at night.
Left to her thoughts, Dominique struggled to imagine what was to become of her—and the unwanted child continuing to grow in her womb.