Suicide Kings by Christopher J. Ferguson Page A

late afternoon, the convent appeared quiet. Among the trees lining the main walkway, it was easy to remain unobtrusive. Diana felt an atmosphere of calm and tranquility from the place. She could only imagine what horrors the young sisters might endure within those walls, but the cloister was successful in projecting an impression of peaceful contemplation.
    “It is like a prison,” Siobhan said, apparently missing the correct interpretation.
    Diana looked at her. “Signore Orsini implied as much in speaking of the nun thrown from the dome. He suggested some of the sisters might commit suicide because of the treatment they receive.”
    Siobhan’s eyebrows furrowed as she seemed to absorb the words. Diana turned away from her handmaid. Now that they were here she wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed. The manicured cypress grove broke against a long open arched walkway that led to a small domed chapel. Diana stepped into the walkway sure this would lead her to some sign of life.
    “Have you ever thought about joining a religious community?” Siobhan asked quietly.
    “No, never.” She couldn’t suppress a shudder.
    “Well, why not?” Siobhan asked. “Given your age, I’d assume you haven’t been eager to get married.”
    “Not you too!” Diana stopped and turned round. “Did my father put you up to this?”
    Siobhan shook her head, her pale skin turning pink.
    Diana put her hands on her hips. “Just because I don’t choose to let a man enslave me, doesn’t mean I wished to be enslaved by women.” Looking at Siobhan, over whom she had enormous control, she suddenly felt awkward. She turned and resumed progress toward the chapel.
    Behind her, Siobhan’s footsteps followed. After a moment her hushed voice asked, “Don’t you like men?”
    Diana felt like tearing out her hair. “I like men fine…physically. I just don’t see the advantage for a woman in marriage. A wife is no more than a reliable source of progeny for noble families. Meanwhile a husband is free to carouse, womanize, and generally do as he pleases. I for one am worth more than that arrangement can offer.” Angry as she was, Diana felt ashamed of her own lack of patience with the Irish girl. Of course her mother was barely a day in her tomb; Diana could be forgiven a lapse of irritability.
    A moment later the trail ended at a crossway. To the left, the arched footpath continued around the outside of the chapel; to the right a little corridor ended in an unmarked wooden door. Sensing the latter offered more promise, Diana approached the door and tried the latch. She might as well heave on a latch bolted to a mountain. She looked around, confused and annoyed, “How does one gain entrance to this place?”
    As if on cue, a girl in black robes emerged from the wooden door. Her manner seemed hurried, apparently intent on some errand. She was startled at the sight of Diana and Siobhan, and stared at them for a moment. She was youthful, younger than Diana certainly, and thin as a baby bird. From her robes, Diana guessed she must be a novitiate.
    Since the juvenile girl didn’t speak, Diana began. “I’m Lady Diana Savrano. I should like to speak to someone in a position of authority within the cloister.”
    The young girl opened her mouth, then closed it again, before finally speaking. “Of course, Lady Savrano. If you’ll but linger here, I’ll summon one of the elder sisters.” Without waiting for a reply, the young girl disappeared back through the wooden door and closed it solidly with a loud thud.
    Diana looked at Siobhan, hoping her expression would convey her unbridled impatience. Siobhan met her stare and said nothing.
    Sensing her wait would not be short, Diana began walking along the arched path outside of the chapel. It gave her something to focus on, to admire the ancient cypress trees that graced these grounds. After a moment however, she was surprised to hear her name being called.
    Diana turned to the wooden door, but found