"A misunderstanding," the old woman repeated. "I like that. I also like your idea for adding mint to my stew. Shall we harvest some?"

"Together." CC grinned.

"Yes. Together." Isabel returned the grin and the two women began breaking off the tops of the fragrant herb.

Isabel's apron was filled with mint, and she and CC were talking amiably about the many uses of cilantro when they entered the kitchen. The other three women looked up, surprise clearly showing on their aged faces.

Isabel dumped the mint on the nearest counter. Several tendrils of silver hair had escaped from her bun and they curled wildly around her face. She pushed them behind her ears and grinned, suddenly reminding CC of a young girl.

"Undine has given me a wonderful idea for the evening stew." Isabel looked at each of the other women. "The princess is wise in the way of herbs."

"Well, I wouldn't call it wise. I just like working with plants, and I like to use them in my own cooking," CC said, a little embarrassed at Isabel's unexpectedly effusive praise.

"It is a wise woman who understands the ways of herbs," the humpbacked lady spoke softly.

CC smiled at the old woman. "I like to work with my hands. It makes me feel good when I've finished something, and I know that it's a job well done."

"Oh, you must see the Holy Mother!" Isabel exclaimed. "It is a miracle!"

"It is not a miracle," the woman with the shriveled hand grumped. "It is plain to see that the princess simply took the filth from the Mother and placed it on herself!" Then she cackled uproariously at her own joke.

The other women were silent, looking at CC to see if she took offense.

"I still think it can still be classified as a miracle," CC said seriously. "Have you even known any reason for a princess to get this dirty, I mean, unless she was terribly clumsy and she fell off her knight's charger as he was whisking her away to their golden castle." She placed the back of her mint-stained hand against her smudged forehead and attempted her own rendition of a princessly swoon.

Isabel chuckled. "Princess, I think you need to practice your swoon. It does not seem very…" She searched for a word.

"… believable." The slack-faced woman finished for her, slurring the word slightly.

"Not believable!" CC pretended offense, pressing her hand against her heart. "You've wounded me!"

"Oh, posh," the woman with the shriveled hand said. "You are too tough to be wounded so easily."

CC smiled at them. "Well, perhaps the four of you would care to demonstrate for me a believable swoon?"

Four pairs of sparkling eyes looked at her, then at one another. Then mayhem broke loose as each old woman, amidst much laughter and sighing, staggered around the kitchen, demonstrating her own version of a believable swoon.

CC couldn't remember when she'd laughed so hard. She'd just fallen into a chair, holding her side and begging the women to stop, when a monk CC recognized as Brother Peter burst into the kitchen.

"What is happening in this room?" he yelled. Then he came to an abrupt halt when he noticed CC.

The women sobered instantly, and CC clearly saw fear flash in their eyes.

She stood quickly, addressing the monk in what she hoped was the snotty, imperious tone of royal command. "You are Brother Peter, aren't you?"

The monk nodded. "Yes, Princess."

"As you can see by the filthy state of my garment, I have been cleaning the Virgin Mother's statue all day. It is tiresome, tedious work, and I needed some levity. Of course I didn't want to trouble any of the Holy Brothers, so I came looking for Isabel. I commanded that she and these other servants amuse me." She wafted her hand absently in the direction of the frozen women. "I am finished being amused now." She smiled graciously at the confused-looking monk. "Thank you for coming to check on me. Please give the abbot my regrets that I must miss mass this evening, but as you can see I am not dressed for vespers." She turned her back on him dismissively.

"Yes, Princess," he said and hurried from the room.

When she was sure he was gone she said to the women. "The monks don't have much fun, do they?"

The women slowly thawed, making scoffing sounds in their throats.

"It doesn't mean we can't," CC said. The women threw her doubtful looks.

"Abbot William says mirth is sinful," Isabel said, only this time her voice didn't sound smug, as it had the other times she had repeated the abbot's dictums to CC; this time she sounded tired and sad.

"How about what Jesus said?" CC asked, and all four pairs of eyes were instantly attentive. "He said, 'Suffer the little children to come unto me.' Well, children, especially little children, laugh and play and have fun all the time. You'd think if happiness was some big sin, then Christ would have said something like, 'Suffer the little children to shut up or I'll beat them and oppress them into heaven.' Wouldn't he?"

"You make an excellent point, Undine," the woman with the shriveled handed said.

"What is your name?" Undine asked her.

"Lynelle," she answered with a bright smile, showing lots of big, yellow teeth.

"And yours?" Undine asked the woman with the partially paralyzed face.

"Bronwyn," she slurred.

"My name is Gwenyth," the lady with the humpback volunteered before CC could ask.

"Ladies, it is a great honor to meet you. I am the Princess Undine Who Can't Remember Anymore Than Her Name," CC said in her best imitation of a British queen. Her audience cackled appreciatively. Then she dropped into the bow of a prima ballerina—and almost fell face first onto the floor when her back foot caught in the hem of her robe.

Laughing, Isabel caught her. "Perhaps I should help you out of this robe."

CC smiled at her. "And into something more queenly?"

"Of course," Isabel said, mimicking CC's royal imitation. "After you, my lady."

Both of them backed from the kitchen, waving royally at their laughing "subjects."

"Is there any possible way I could take a bath?" CC asked as they made their way through the deserted dining room.

Isabel patted her hand. "Go to your room. I will get the tub. If you stand in it, I will pour the water over you."

"Can I be naked?"

Isabel tried unsuccessfully to stifle a smile. "If you insist."

"I insist," CC said firmly.

"I do not actually leave my chemise on while I bathe," the old woman admitted.

"I knew that," CC said.

Isabel wrinkled her heavily lined forehead in surprise. "How did you know?"

CC sniffed in her direction. "You don't smell bad."

CC could hear the old woman's chuckles long after she disappeared to fetch the tub.

Chapter 18

CC's stomach let out a very unladylike growl as Isabel finished lacing up her outer gown.

"Forgotten to eat, have you?" Isabel laughed.

"Please tell me there's some of your wonderful stew left."

"For you, yes. After all, you are the one who thought of adding the mint."

"It was good?"

"It was wonderful. I think Bronwyn was so impressed that she may even have saved you a loaf of her excellent bread."

"That sounds great," CC said as they hurried down the hall. "Do you think the monks will still be at evening mass? I'm really tired, and I'd rather not have to make conversation with the abbot and Andras." The hard physical labor of cleaning and scrubbing all day coupled with the ever-present ache for the water had exhausted her, and the last thing CC needed was to spar with the abbot or fend off Andras's attempts at courtship.

CC could feel Isabel's gaze. When she spoke, the old woman's voice sounded wise. "It is obvious that you and the abbot dislike one another, which is certainly no surprise.