4. I followed Hilda down the corridors leading to the vestibule at the west front of the great Abbey church. From within I could hear voices praying and singing. Two monks and the Abbess joined us. Looking at her I was struck by how much she reminded me of a cadaver, with her deeply lined face, sallow complexion, and sunken cheeks.
"Good! You have brought her in time, Sister Hilda, for morning prayers," the Abbess said, casting an evaluative look over me as I stood naked before her, and nodding affirmatively toward Hilda. "Turn around my dear, let me see you."
I slowly pirouetted and, not knowing what else to do, offered her a little curtsy.
"Yes, she is perfect for the Competition .. St. Cruxton is most surely blessed by Barbara's arrival here"
"What competition?" I blurted out, earning myself a quick cuff on the ear for speaking out from my ever vigilant mentor, Hilda.
"Never mind, my dear," replied the Abbess, soothingly, "Now, please crouch down on your haunches ... it's time."
Puzzled, but fearing another cuff on my already throbbing ear, I complied without comment as the Abbess signaled to the two monks, who came forward dragging between them a large and very heavy-looking wooden cross. Gently they rested the main beam on my back, the base of it trailing on the floor behind me.
"Now, raise your arms, my dear, and grasp the cross beam, instructed the Abbess, "we are to enter the sanctuary now in procession and you are to lead us bearing the holy cross of our hallowed Savior and Lord on your back."
I looked at the Abbess with disbelief written all over my face. I just wanted to run away, but a rather unpleasant image of me burning at the stake flashed across my consciousness and gave me pause.
So I took a deep breath, slowly reached up with both hands to grip the crossbeam and pushed upward against the dead weight of the cross with my back and shoulders, managing with some effort to reach a half-bent-over, upright position.
The two monks magically produced and tied a white "Christ-like" loin cloth around my hips, and as Hilda stepped forward to open the massive Abbey church doors they lined up on either side of me, each brandishing a short multi-tailed whip. The Abbess took her place behind and whispered to all, "proceed."
One of the monks delivered a quick underhand lash across my dangling breasts to set me in motion, and I staggered unsteadily forward, through the doorway and down the aisle between the great stone columns supporting the overhead vaulting and past row after row of nuns solemnly praying with heads bowed.
The cross was heavy. I weaved from side to side and went down on my knees twice, but driven by the monks, who used their whips liberally on my back, flanks; shoulders and breasts, I managed to carry the cross to the altar place, where the monks finally relieved me of my burden. I collapsed on the steps before the altar, one leg stretched out behind, the other bent under me; half on my side, one arm outstretched, watching as the monks struggled to place the cross upright in its moorings well behind the altar.
Meanwhile the Abbess took her place at the altar, arms outstretched, pectoral cross on her chest gleaming in the glow of hundreds of candles, and began to chant.
The two monks helped me to my feet and led me around behind her to the base of the cross. For the first time I noticed that the stipes had a small slanted footrest attached to it. Taking me by the hands, the monks helped me mount it, and turned me around to face the nave and the dozens of nuns whose faces now looked rapturously up at me.
While one of the monks fetched a ladder, the other tied ropes around my wrists. Then my right arm was raised; held against the crossbeam, and tied there by the monk on the ladder. Climbing down and moving the ladder to the other side, he repeated the process. Then crouching at my feet, he bound my ankles together and lashed them to the stipes.
And there I stood crucified ... or more correctly "mock crucified"... as a kind of tableau backdrop to the ritualistic service being led by the Abbess, with all eyes in the Abbey, save hers, fixed on my near naked body and face.
At first I stared back, but as the service droned on, I bowed my head. The circulation soon drained from my hands and my legs began to ache from the strain of standing for so long on an inclined foot rest with knees slightly bent. Breathing became more difficult. I began to slide my back up and down against the stipes, or lean out with back arched to twist and writhe. I was in constant motion, in a desperate dance to find a position that afforded me some measure of comfort.
I thought that it would never end, but thankfully it did. Nonetheless, by the time they took me down, I was so exhausted, not only from my struggles on the cross, but also from the long night, the whippings and the caning, that I fell to the floor and passed out.
The two monks picked me up ... one holding me under my arms, the other holding my legs just behind my knees ... and carried my limp body back to my quarters, where they tossed me carelessly on the bed, ripped away my loin cloth, and left.
In my semi-consciousness I overheard them talking about me as they ducked through the doorway. "So, what do you think, Brother Ethelbert? It's only a week now until the Competition. Can she do it? She is lovely enough, but can she endure? Do you think we can have her ready? Will this be St. Cruxton's year?"
"I think so; she is tough enough. We've already seen she can take a lot. But she also has that rebellious streak ... she is unpredictable... we'll surely need to discipline her harshly before she is truly ready."
"God willing."
"Yes, God willing."
I also noticed as they ducked out the door that they had failed to lock me in.
TO BE CONTINUED
A problem, I think ....
) ...
