"Sarpedon!" CC slapped her forehead. "How could I have forgotten? I think I saw him, or at least some kind of ghostly vision of him today."

The goddess's eyes widened at CC's words, but a shout kept her from responding.

"Princess Undine!" Isabel sounded out of breath as she limped up to CC. The instant the servant appeared both the goblet of delectable champagne and the goddess disappeared. "Well, there you are! I have been searching and searching these gardens. Sir Andras sent me to find you. Evening mass is beginning; you must come at once."

CC reluctantly allowed the maid to help her to her feet.

"Sir Andras does applaud your piety, but you certainly cannot miss vespers, even for prayerful meditation." Isabel looked sharply at CC. "At least you must not miss itagain."

"I suppose I did get carried away with my prayers," CC said, following the old woman as she hurried down the path which would take them through the garden to the chapel that stood at its far end.

"I am sure you were in need of much prayer," Isabel rasped over her shoulder.

"If you only knew," CC muttered under her breath.

Isabel chose the most direct path across the garden area, which led to the wooden doors of a modest chapel. It was made with the same gray rock as was the rest of the monastery, but on this building the stones were carved into intricate renditions. CC squinted at the carvings and then her eyes opened in shock. All of the scenes were horrible. Horned demons were eating naked, writhing people. Stone flames burned full-fleshed women. Men who were half goat whipped human men, who were chained to each other, their tortured mouths open, frozen in eternally silent screams. CC shuddered and was glad that Isabel literally pulled her through the doors and into the dimly lit chapel.

The first thing CC noticed was the incense. It was thick and pungent and it curled in waves over the carved stone pews, which were filled with monks who were already kneeling and chanting in a dirgelike litany. Their cream-colored robes made them appear like spirits hovering in the dim, smoky light.

CC sneezed. At the sound, several of the heads turned briefly in her direction. One tall, blond-headed figure stood and moved quickly down the aisle and to her side. Andras took one look at her and shook his head like she had just flunked some kind of test.

"Why are you not prepared for mass?" he asked in a strained tone, making an obvious effort to keep his voice low.

CC blinked at him in confusion. She was here, wasn't she?

But before she could ask what he meant, Isabel sighed and gave her a severe look. "Princess, I am shocked that you did not think to bring a covering for your head." Clucking and shaking her head, Isabel dug into the depths of her apron pocket. "It is fortuitous that I thought to bring an extra scarf, although it is not so grand as the Princess is accustomed to, I am sure."

Isabel handed CC an ivory-colored scarf made of plain, serviceable linen. Her own head was already covered with a similar cloth.

"Thank you," CC said, draping the fabric over her head.

"It was very kind of you to think of the princess," Andras said formally.

"I only wish to serve. Sometimes those who are very young and very beautiful can also be very forgetful," Isabel said nonchalantly, but CC was sure she heard the hurt that hid in the old woman's gravely voice. Then the servant melted her way silently into a rear pew.

CC watched sadly as she disappeared into the gloom. She certainly wasn't making much headway in her quest to win Isabel over.

"I waited for you and was disturbed that you did not come," Andras whispered fiercely to her.

CC allowed her face to assume a shocked expression. "I was praying, Andras. Time seemed unimportant."

She watched as he brought his anger under control. "Of course. I was just concerned over your absence."

Oh, right, CC thought. That's why he looks like he'd love to shake me to death.

"Come, we are seated near the front. It is a great honor."

With a sigh CC followed him into the heart of the chapel, pausing briefly at the stone edifice that held the shallow pool of holy water. And she'd thought that those Sundays on base when she had mistakenly shown up for Catholic instead of Methodist services had just been pleasant little ceremonies she'd accidentally sat through. Without fear of making a fool of herself, she followed the correct motions of dipping her fingers in the holy water and genuflecting.

She had to hurry to catch up with Andras, who led her to the second row of pews. (The first row was unoccupied.) He motioned for her to go before him, and she slid down the empty pew, trying not to grimace at the coldness of the stone bench.

Evening mass was already under way, and CC was pretty sure that Abbot William had shot her a quick, contemptuous look, but it was so dark in the chapel that it was hard to be certain. His voice droned on and on, soft and rhythmic, in a language that CC decided must be Latin. The priest stood behind an ornately carved wooden table at the chapel's nave. The table was filled with gilded relics that glittered and sparkled, even in the dim light. There was an enormous golden chalice and a matching platter, which held a loaf of bread. Huge candelabrum stood on either end of the table, but even the light of their many candles did little to dispel the gloom of the chapel.

Suspended almost directly over Abbot William's head was a life-sized golden crucifix. CC squinted, trying to get a better look at it. As on the cross in her room, the only sign of Christ were the shards of wooden nails that pierced the cross where his hands and feet would have been. This time drops of blood were painted on the gold, the color of which reminded CC of Abbot William's robes, and she had to suppress a shudder of revulsion.

What had happened to Christ? Why was he conspicuously left off of the crucifix? The omission both saddened and angered CC.

The cross was suspended between two thick gray columns. At the base of each column were lit dozens of tall, white candles. Their soft flames seemed to be swallowed within the cross's shadow.

CC followed Andras's lead, kneeling and genuflecting when appropriate. She even managed to whisper what she thought were correct responses to the small portion of the service that was in an understandable language.

CC had just begun to think that her knees had fallen asleep when Abbot William turned his back to the congregation and raised the chalice to the bleeding cross, asking for the blessing on the wine. As he returned the chalice to the table and lifted the bread to be blessed similarly, a flickering movement to her left caught CC's gaze. The shadows that ringed the pews were thick, but she was sure she saw something in an alcove off to the side of the sanctuary. She concentrated, peering into the murky darkness, and an image formed out of the haze. Her breath caught and her heartbeat quickened.

"We will take communion next," Andras's voice spoke in her ear.

She looked around, startled at his words. The monks who had been seated in the row of pews directly across from them were standing and making their way slowly and reverently to take the blood and the flesh from Abbot William's hands.

CC's decision was quickly made. When Andras stood, she stood with him, but instead of following him like a good little lamb, she patted his hand and whispered, "Please excuse me, Andras. There is something I must do."

As she slipped out from the other side of the pew, the knight's face tightened in anger, but instead of following her, he moved out of the opposite end of their row and stood obediently in line behind the cream-robed monks. She ignored his irritation and headed with unerring certainty to a forgotten alcove in the side of the chapel.