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excitement as she thought she could swim in it in the morning, how, if she grabbed a log and made a sail, it would carry her out to the sea where she would at last see Neptune. Her mother had told her the magical stories of Neptune, Zeus, Athena, and all the gods of olden times. She loved these gods very much. They were not like the prickly cruel God of the church, though she must not say this out loud, she knew. Her mother told her, "A body could burn for that heresy..."
    She had clapped her hands as the puddle grew deeper and wider still, lapping now at the side of the sheep's water urn and against the old tree trunks. The animals had been brought inside. One of the sheep, Monsieur Henry, named after a king, nudged her hand, where he often found treats, baying when the little girl held out her open hand for inspection. He licked it anyway and she giggled. The chickens had been brought inside, too. They filled the cottage with a musty scent of wet feathers. They cried and bawked and her mother cried too because the moist air made her cough worse
    Poor, poor Maman …
    She knew it was her mother creeping up behind her because she heard her cough. She started to turn to her and from the corner of her eye had seen her mother holding a staff high over her head. It was the last thing she remembered from this world, because the violent act sent her to another place, into the world of the spirits and the unborn and God.
    She beheld heaven.
    Infused with a strange and magical light that was meaning and depth of benevolence, she understood the light was God. An angel, Mary, spoke to her without words, telling her she was not yet ready to leave the earthly world below, but that her mother would be coming to be with Mary in heaven. But first her mother was to take her to the Benedictine Abbey, where the good sisters would love and cherish her.
    She remembered wanting to explain that she didn't want to go to the abbey, that she would very much like to go to the ocean to see Neptune, but there were no words in this place. Then Mary began showering her with love as a warm light cascaded over her and changed her forever.
    The contrast between the dream and reality had been startling when she finally opened her eyes again. Her head hurt and her mother hovered over her with a warm cloth. The sun shined through the clouds and the rain had stopped. Her mother coughed blood into a cloth. Once upon a time her mother had been beautiful, but the cough made her look old and haggard.
    "Poor, poor Maman," Linness said gently. "Mary's taking you to heaven soon. Mary said I must go to the abbey." The silvery eyes widened with sudden hope. " Maman, I want to swim. In the big puddle."
    "Linness, did you see the blessed Mary?"
    "Aye. She was beautiful. I want to swim.
    Her mother had nursed her until she was well enough to make the four-day journey to the abbey. In truth her mother's coughing fits made the journey slow, but Linness was glad for it, for her mother had told her many strange and sad stories that she never forgot. And they were all she had of her.
    Her mother had also taught her the story they would tell the sisters. This story was made of truths and lies, all mixed up, so that first it became a confused jumble in her mind, and then, when they had finally reached the white stone abbey nestled in a valley surrounded by high green hills, Linness believed every word she told the abbess.
    Only the richest and most noble families could afford the dowry the church required to accept a child into its many religious orders. The noble families who could afford the hefty fortune usually gave up one and sometimes two children to the church. The child was then educated, taught to read and write and molded to assume a place in the order, be it priest or nun. To have a child accepted was considered one of the greatest blessings. It was known as the easiest and most expedient means of getting to heaven.
    Linness's mother was a poor woman, barely etching a