entry,
the hall, and every other room they had peered into thus far. The abbey was as silent and
vacant as a tomb. It was downright eerie, he thought, as he came to an empty side hall.
Pausing, he turned and peered at the men following him. Rolfe, Little George, the bishop,
and twenty men-at-arms, curiosity and concern on every face as they peered about the inner
sanctity of the abbey. He could not blame them. 'Twas not a place they were likely to see
again.
Sighing, he shook his head and peered back toward the main hall. “What is it?” Rolfe
asked, looking back the way they had come. “The chapel,” Blake said. “I swear I saw the
door close as I stood at the end of the hall.” “Aye, but we looked in there. It was empty.”
“Hmm.” He continued to stare up the hall. His instincts were telling him to check it
again. A warrior quickly learned to rely on his instincts. Turning abruptly, he headed
back the way they had come, pausing after only a few steps to order the men-at-arms to
continue searching the passage for any of the abbey's inhabitants. When he continued on,
he was aware Rolfe was following him, with Little George and the bishop close behind.
Seonaid straightened from peering into the hall when her cousin nudged her. Aeldra had
finished repairing her clothes so that she too was no longer hampered by skirts, and
Sister Blanche and Helen had
finished exchanging garments and were moving to join them.
“Your gowns,” Lady Helen said with surprise as she saw that they had changed their
clothing as well. “You look so... different in braies.”
Seonaid smiled at the comment as she eased the door closed and turned to properly examine
the two women. She could have said the same to them. Both of them had been transformed by
the switch. With her hair hidden beneath the nun's habit and every inch of her body hidden
as well, Helen had an ethereal beauty. She had been attractive before, but her beauty was
somehow transformed to a pure and innocent sweetness. Sister Blanche, on the other hand,
looked a perfect mess, her usually serene expression tense and pinched, her shorn head odd
without its covering.
Seonaid glanced about, then moved toward the front of the room to snatch the pristine
white cloth off the table holding the candles.
“What are you doing?” Sister Blanche hurried after her as the candles tumbled to the floor.
“Should anyone see the two of ye together, they would recognize the switch at once,”
Seonaid pointed out. “We must cover yer head.”
“Oh.” Sister Blanche reached up to self-consciously feel her own shorn head, but Seonaid
brushed her hand aside and draped the cloth about her head. She then tied the fine linen
beneath her chin, and paused to frown over her handiwork. Unfortunately, her efforts
revealed how little knowledge she had of primping and fashion. Muttering under her breath,
she fussed a bit, relieved when Helen nudged her out of the way and took over the duty.
Once the Englishwoman had finished, Seonaid eyed the sister and nodded her satisfaction.
“Let us go. We must gather the blades from our rooms, then find the exit you speak of.”
“The blades from your rooms?” Sister Blanche peered at her, bewildered. “But Mother
Elizabeth took them.”
“We took them back an' we needs must have them to escape.” “Nay, we cannot risk it,” the
sister protested at once. “Would ye send us out with naught to protect us?” Biting her
lip, Sister Blanche peered unhappily about, then sighed. “I shall fetch them for you,
then.” Seonaid shook her head. “I'll no let ye risk yerself for us.”
“ 'Tis my fault you are at risk,” Sister Blanche argued. “Besides, they would not dare
harm a bride of God.”
Seonaid smiled slightly. “Ye look little like a sister right now, Sister.”
The nun glanced down at her clothes with a start. “Oh, aye, well, but if I
the hall, and every other room they had peered into thus far. The abbey was as silent and
vacant as a tomb. It was downright eerie, he thought, as he came to an empty side hall.
Pausing, he turned and peered at the men following him. Rolfe, Little George, the bishop,
and twenty men-at-arms, curiosity and concern on every face as they peered about the inner
sanctity of the abbey. He could not blame them. 'Twas not a place they were likely to see
again.
Sighing, he shook his head and peered back toward the main hall. “What is it?” Rolfe
asked, looking back the way they had come. “The chapel,” Blake said. “I swear I saw the
door close as I stood at the end of the hall.” “Aye, but we looked in there. It was empty.”
“Hmm.” He continued to stare up the hall. His instincts were telling him to check it
again. A warrior quickly learned to rely on his instincts. Turning abruptly, he headed
back the way they had come, pausing after only a few steps to order the men-at-arms to
continue searching the passage for any of the abbey's inhabitants. When he continued on,
he was aware Rolfe was following him, with Little George and the bishop close behind.
Seonaid straightened from peering into the hall when her cousin nudged her. Aeldra had
finished repairing her clothes so that she too was no longer hampered by skirts, and
Sister Blanche and Helen had
finished exchanging garments and were moving to join them.
“Your gowns,” Lady Helen said with surprise as she saw that they had changed their
clothing as well. “You look so... different in braies.”
Seonaid smiled at the comment as she eased the door closed and turned to properly examine
the two women. She could have said the same to them. Both of them had been transformed by
the switch. With her hair hidden beneath the nun's habit and every inch of her body hidden
as well, Helen had an ethereal beauty. She had been attractive before, but her beauty was
somehow transformed to a pure and innocent sweetness. Sister Blanche, on the other hand,
looked a perfect mess, her usually serene expression tense and pinched, her shorn head odd
without its covering.
Seonaid glanced about, then moved toward the front of the room to snatch the pristine
white cloth off the table holding the candles.
“What are you doing?” Sister Blanche hurried after her as the candles tumbled to the floor.
“Should anyone see the two of ye together, they would recognize the switch at once,”
Seonaid pointed out. “We must cover yer head.”
“Oh.” Sister Blanche reached up to self-consciously feel her own shorn head, but Seonaid
brushed her hand aside and draped the cloth about her head. She then tied the fine linen
beneath her chin, and paused to frown over her handiwork. Unfortunately, her efforts
revealed how little knowledge she had of primping and fashion. Muttering under her breath,
she fussed a bit, relieved when Helen nudged her out of the way and took over the duty.
Once the Englishwoman had finished, Seonaid eyed the sister and nodded her satisfaction.
“Let us go. We must gather the blades from our rooms, then find the exit you speak of.”
“The blades from your rooms?” Sister Blanche peered at her, bewildered. “But Mother
Elizabeth took them.”
“We took them back an' we needs must have them to escape.” “Nay, we cannot risk it,” the
sister protested at once. “Would ye send us out with naught to protect us?” Biting her
lip, Sister Blanche peered unhappily about, then sighed. “I shall fetch them for you,
then.” Seonaid shook her head. “I'll no let ye risk yerself for us.”
“ 'Tis my fault you are at risk,” Sister Blanche argued. “Besides, they would not dare
harm a bride of God.”
Seonaid smiled slightly. “Ye look little like a sister right now, Sister.”
The nun glanced down at her clothes with a start. “Oh, aye, well, but if I
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