"Retreat brings dishonor to the Order. But withdrawal is an acceptable strategy.â
Location: St. Etheldreda's/Ely House
It was always a curiosity of Mary's as to where people managed to find fruits and vegetables with which to pelt people at gatherings. Even unplanned events like this, rescuing a child from a Ryne attack (that somehow inspired aggression from the populace) was met with the liberal application of foodstuffs in various stages of decay. Generally, this was not how people reacted when a service was done for them. This is not what people did when she saved a life. Something was very wrong here.
Her horse, Cassius, was well-trained and strong. He bore Mary and her unconscious cargo away from the market with surety and speed. Of course, Mary made sure that she did not get so far ahead as to lose her more vocal colleague, the Reverend Clerc. It was only a short ride from the market near St. Paul's Cathedral to St. Etheldreda's Church, but a more bracing run for the Frenchman following. The young Apostolic felt a momentary twinge of guilt, not offering him the use of her horse. But her priority lay with the boy.
The horse and rider made it into the stable entrance at a trot, with Sister Hale dismounting before the animal came to a complete stop. Mary was already removing the child from the front of her saddle and unwinding her bindings. She had thrown the child over a shoulder and was in the middle of re-wrapping the black cloth around her forearm when a one of the lay folk approached; a stablehand, flanked by two of the cloistered nuns assigned to the church. They looked somewhat annoyed at her appearance. Mary cut them off before they began.
"There was Ryne attack in the market near St. Paul's Cathedral." she began, eyes narrowing at the trio as if to dare them to interrupt her. She was a Dame of the order of St. Sylvester, not a neophyte Sister or lay employee of the Church for them to scold at will. Though sometimes, she understood the confusion. Mary was a young woman yet, and she had the look of a fresh-faced girl half of the time.
"I healed the boy. His soul is safe, as well. The people in the marketplace weren't as sure; they wanted me to kill him. We might have started a riot." Mary looked back to see Jacques nearing the entrance behind them.
"The moment he is inside, I want those gates closed and barred. All of the portals closed and barred. Riot or no, something unnatural is happening." Mary handed the reins off to the stable hand, and pointed at one of the Nuns who was still standing about, partially in surprise at what the Dame was telling her, partially taken aback at this younger girl speaking to her in a commanding manner. Of course, if the matter concerned the Soulless or the defense of Ely, she was the Knight assigned by the Order with the blessing of the Papacy; it was her call, to be overridden only by a member of the Clergy of appropriate position.
"You may overstep, Dame Mary. I should inform the Bishop before we..."
"Excellent, Sister. Please inform Bishop Mansfield of my decision. I welcome his counsel. Before that, you will have those doors and gates barred, and ensure the security of our home without further argument. And you," she continued, looking to the other Nun in the group an spoke in a softer voice,
"Please give the boy someplace quiet and safe to rest. Make sure he has a good, warm meal when he wakes. It is not safe for him out there, not for at least three days. Thank you very much, Sister. I shall check on him upon my return." She paused for a moment, before shrugging off her white and red robe, now splattered with the varied stains of market produce, courtesy of the mob.
"And Sister, please? Would you be as kind as to make sure that this gets into the laundry before it all sets? I would be very grateful. Thank you." As the Reverend approached, Mary held out her hand. She received her Howdah Pistol without comment and holstered it at her side.
"You are welcome to stay within these walls for as long as you require, Reverend. I might suggest a walk in our Garden, maybe take some of our fresh strawberries. If you want, we can offer you food and quartering. For now, I have an obligation to keep. Good day, Reverend." Mary excused herself from the courtyard and began walking further into the Ely House proper, away from the more village-like area of the Palace's grounds. She began to run as soon as she was out of sight, through the straight corridors and even stairs of the castleish structure, up to her private quarters. "Getting ready", for her, wasn't a particularly arduous affair. She chose a formal cloak, used by her Order on more official business. It was black with silver edging, and a particularly large equidistant cross decorated the back, and over the heart, stitched with fine white and silver thread. It wasn't her favorite look (her white robe was unmistakably that), but it was in order with her duties for the evening and matched her cassock flawlessly. She checked her weapons and changed into a fresh cassock, adjusted the cloth wrappings around her waist and forearms, and ran a brush through her hair. She looked quite the representative of her Order. But she knew that she would undoubtedly be referred to merely as "Sister" for the remainder of the evening. Mary supposed it fit; after all she
was a Sister in the service of Rome, at large in the greater world. Almost as an afterthought, Mary procured a series of ampules containing holy water. Just in case they needed her to make a blessing, host or guests either.
After writing down a simple note describing her expected plans for the rest of the day, Mary exited her quarters and handed it off to a page, insisting that he bring it to the Bishop. She made a brief stop by the kitchens, grabbing a flask of water, one of wine, and a strawberry-rhubarb pie wrapped tightly in white cloth.
The next few minutes found her back at her dappled grey stallion, fresh and armed, readying to return to Greater London. There was an appointment at Almack's Assembly Rooms that Mary had to keep. She tucked her provisions and extra equipment into the saddlebags, swung herself into the saddle with the skill of a seasoned equestrian, and hefted her halberd into a rest position. Looking out past the gates, Mary had to decide whether it would be safe to venture out the main exit, or if prudence dictated a more discreet exit elsewhere.
