LITMIR.BIZ

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was that they were to walk with great dignity. But Cecilia Blanca often had occasion to clear her throat loudly, to clump along and act like a lout, or pretend to stumble and disturb the order of the procession. Next to her walked Cecilia Rosa, because the two of them always had to bring up the rear. She was singing with her gaze fixed on the distance and a dreamy expression that seemed almost heavenly.

      It was like a game the two played, constantly talking about their little tricks and trying to think up new ones. But since they talked to each other even when it was forbidden, Mother Rikissa would often punish them, but not as hard as one might expect. And she no longer allowed any of the worldly maidens to wield the scourge. She did the whipping herself, first Cecilia Blanca, then Cecilia Rosa. The strange thing was that the longer their rebellion went on, the less Mother Rikissa countered it with sternness, which at first they couldn’t understand.

      To both of them Mother Rikissa was an evil person who had no belief in the fear of God which she was always trying to drum into others. She was as ugly as a witch, with big protruding teeth and rough hands, and they were sure she would have had to hold a very powerful position in the Sverker clan to be married off with those looks. She could hardly have gained power through the marriage bed; it was much easier to do so by becoming an abbess.

      And since both Cecilias were women at their loveliest age, with slender waists and eyes full of life, they believed that this was precisely what put Mother Rikissa’s back up.

      When the summer came and the masses of Ascension Day were past, Mother Rikissa changed again. Now she found constant reason to punish the two hated Cecilias. Since bread and water didn’t seem to have much effect on what she called their roguishness, she employed the scourge almost daily. And now she forced the Sverker maidens, but never again Helena Sverkersdotter, to carry out the whipping. Of course none of the girls struck as hard as Helena had done when Cecilia Blanca issued her curse, but the repeated punishment still resulted in more pain in their backs.

      It was Cecilia Blanca who at last figured out how they could escape this misery. She figured that Mother Rikissa would not be honest enough to follow the rule of inviolable secrecy in the confessional, and that she would worm information out of any father confessor who came to Gudhem.

      The confessor who came most often was a young vicarius from the cathedral in Skara. Even the worldly maidens had to make confession to him. But they were never allowed to see him, because he sat inside the church, and the one who was confessing sat out in the arcade next to a window with a wooden grating and a cloth between them.

      One mild morning in early summer Cecilia Blanca found herself at confession, overcome by a feeling of nervousness, for she knew quite well that what she intended to do was a serious sin; it was a mockery of the holy confession. On the other hand, she consoled herself, if this stratagem succeeded then it would show that it was actually Mother Rikissa and the vicarius who were mocking the confessional.

      ‘Father, forgive me, for I have sinned,’ she whispered so rapidly that the words stumbled over each other. Then she drew a deep breath in anticipation of what she had to do.

      ‘My child, my dear daughter,’ replied the vicarius with a sigh on the other side of the grating, ‘Gudhem is not a place that induces one to grave sins, but let us hear your confession.’

      ‘I’ve been thinking evil thoughts about my fellow sisters,’ Cecilia Blanca continued with a will, now that she had taken the leap into sin. ‘I have vindictive thoughts and I can’t forgive them.’

      ‘What and whom can’t you forgive?’ the vicarius asked cautiously.

      ‘The Sverker girls and their lot. They run around telling tales, and they wield the scourge when my friend and I are repeatedly punished because of their gossip. And forgive me, father, but I must speak the truth. I think that if I become queen, then I will never be able to forgive either them or Mother Rikissa. I think that I will have to take a lengthy and harsh revenge; I think that their kinsmen’s farms will burn and that Gudhem will be emptied of all folk, and not one stone will be left standing at this place.’

      ‘Who is your friend?’ asked the vicarius with a slight quaver in his voice.

      ‘Cecilia Algotsdotter, father.’

      ‘The one who was betrothed in the Folkung clan to a man named Arn Magnusson?’

      ‘Yes, exactly, father, the one Birger Brosa holds so dear. She is my friend, and she is tormented by everyone here the same as I am, and this is why I’m filled with these unworthy and sinful thoughts of revenge.’

      ‘As long as you are at Gudhem, my daughter, you must follow the holy rules that apply here,’ replied the vicarius, trying to sound stern. But there was a clear note of uncertainty and fear in his voice that did not escape Cecilia Blanca’s attention.

      ‘I know, father, I know that this is my sin, and I seek God’s forgiveness,’ said Cecilia Blanca in a low, demure voice, but with a broad smile on her face; the vicarius could no more see her than she could see him.

      It took a moment before the vicarius answered, and Cecilia Blanca considered it a good sign that her ploy was having an effect.

      ‘You have to seek peace in your soul, my daughter,’ he said at last in a strained voice. ‘You have to reconcile yourself with your lot in life, like all the rest here at Gudhem. I tell you now that you must meditate on your sinful thoughts, you must say twenty Pater Nosters and forty Ave Marias and you must refrain from speaking a word to anyone for twenty-four hours while you repent your sin. Do you understand?’

      ‘Yes, father, I understand,’ whispered Cecilia Blanca, biting her lip to keep from breaking into laughter.

      ‘I forgive you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Virgin Mary,’ whispered the vicarius, obviously shaken.

      Cecilia Blanca hurried off along the arcade in jubilation, but with her head demurely bowed. At the other side of the cloister she found her friend Cecilia Rosa hiding by the fountain in the lavatorium. Cecilia Blanca was red in the face with excitement.

      ‘That ploy did some good, by God I think it helped,’ she whispered as she came in, looked around, and then embraced her friend as if they were free women in the other world, an embrace that would have cost them dearly if anyone had seen.

      ‘How so, how can you know that?’ asked Cecilia Rosa as she anxiously pushed her friend away and looked around.

      ‘Twenty Our Fathers and forty Hail Marys for confessing such hatred - that’s nothing at all! And only one day of silence. Don’t you see? He was scared, and now he’ll run and spill it all to that witch Rikissa. Now you have to do the same thing!’

      ‘I don’t know, I don’t know if I dare…’ said Cecilia Rosa. ‘I have nothing to use as a threat. You can threaten them with the prospect of becoming a vengeful queen, but I…with my twenty-year sentence, what can I threaten them with?’

      ‘With the Folkungs and with Birger Brosa!’ whispered Cecilia Blanca excitedly. ‘I think something has happened outside or is about to happen. Threaten them with the Folkungs!’

      Cecilia Rosa envied her friend’s courage. It was a bold venture they had undertaken, and Cecilia Rosa could never have done it by herself. But now the first move had been made. Cecilia Blanca had taken the risks for them both, and now Cecilia Rosa had to do the same.

      ‘Trust me, I will do it too,’ she whispered, crossing herself and pulling her hood over her head. She walked off rubbing her hands together as if she had just washed them in the fountain. She walked along the arcade to the confessional without hesitation, and she did as friendship now demanded she do; she overcame her fear of committing the unprecedented act of mocking the confessional.

      She was not quite sure what part of their plan had actually worked, but the fact that it did work was certain.

      Silence still surrounded the two Cecilias at Gudhem; no one spoke to them, but neither did anyone look at them with the same hatred as before. It was as

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