Colonel Acoca kept him waiting for an hour, then allowed the priest to be shown into his office.
Father Berrendo said without preamble, “You and your men attacked a convent without provocation. It was an act of madness.”
“We were simply doing our duty,” the colonel said curtly. “The convent was sheltering Jaime Miró and his band of murderers, so the sisters brought this on themselves. We’re holding them for questioning.”
“Did you find Jaime Miró in the convent?” the priest demanded angrily.
Colonel Acoca said smoothly, “No. He and his men escaped before we got there. But we’ll find them, and justice will be done.”
My justice, Colonel Acoca thought savagely.
CHAPTER FIVE
The nuns traveled slowly. Their garb was ill equipped for the rugged terrain. Their sandals were too thin to protect their feet against the stony ground, and their habits caught on everything. Sister Teresa found she could not even say her rosary. She needed both hands to keep the branches from snapping in her face.
In the light of day, freedom seemed even more terrifying than before. God had cast the sisters out of Eden into a strange, frightening world, and His guidance which they had leaned on for so long was gone. They found themselves in an uncharted country with no map and no compass. The walls that had protected them from harm for so long had vanished and they felt naked and exposed. Danger was everywhere, and they no longer had a place of refuge. They were aliens. The unaccustomed sights and sounds of the country were dazzling. There were insects and bird songs and hot, blue skies assaulting their senses. And there was something else that was disturbing.
When they had first fled the convent, Teresa, Graciela, and Megan had carefully avoided looking at one another, instinctively keeping to the rules. But now, each found herself avidly studying the faces of the others. Also, after all the years of silence, they found it difficult to speak, and when they did speak, their words were halting, as though they were learning a strange new skill. Their voices sounded strange in their ears. Only Lucia seemed uninhibited and sure of herself, and the others automatically turned to her for leadership.
“We might as well introduce ourselves,” Lucia said. “I’m Sister Lucia.”
There was an awkward pause, and Graciela said shyly, “I’m Sister Graciela.”
The dark-haired, arrestingly beautiful one.
“I’m Sister Megan.”
The young blonde with the striking blue eyes.
“I’m Sister Teresa.”
The eldest of the group. Fifty? Sixty?
As they lay in the woods resting outside the village, Lucia thought: They’re like newborn birds fallen out of their nests. They won’t last five minutes on their own. Well, too bad for them. I’ll be on my way to Switzerland with the cross.
Lucia walked to the edge of the clearing they were in and peered through the trees toward the little village below. A few people were walking along the street, but there was no sign of the men who had raided the convent. Now, Lucia thought. Here’s my chance.
She turned to the others. “I’m going down to the village to try to get us some food. You wait here.” She nodded toward Sister Teresa. “You come with me.”
Sister Teresa was confused. For thirty years she had obeyed only the orders of the Reverend Mother Betina, and now suddenly this sister had taken charge. But what is happening is God’s will, Sister Teresa thought. He has appointed her to help us, so she speaks with His voice. “I must get this cross to the convent at Mendavia as soon as possible.”
“Right. When we get down there, we’ll ask for directions.”
The two of them started down the hill toward the town, Lucia keeping a careful lookout for trouble. There was none.
This is going to be easy, Lucia thought.
They reached the outskirts of the little town. A sign said VILLACASTÍN. Ahead of them was the main street. To the left was a small, deserted street.
Good, Lucia thought. There would be no one to witness what was about to happen.
Lucia turned into the side street. “Let’s go this way. There’s less chance of being seen.”