We entered my cell. Mary sat in my lone wooden chair. I sat on the edge of my cot. She produced from the folds of her habit a heavy piece of rolled he...pen fabric and placed it on my table. She smiled again, her teeth like miniature pearls. Everything about her was small. I spoke first. “I just talked with Sister Gwendolyn as you know. I could scarcely believe my ears. Is this really a coven of...pagans? And I am expected to join you? To participate in your lascivious rites?” She didn’t answer. Giovanni was one of the few Italian men I knew with blue eyes and I wondered where they came from, a Germanic or Celtic invader, a Roman blue-eyed slave, a Viking raider. So much of Giovanni was below the surface. He was the least aggressive of my husband’s buddies today. Only once did I have to dodge his hand when he reached out to pinch a buttock. He was 180 centimeters tall with brown hair and though he did not appear as muscular as Marco, there seemed about him a hidden strength which could. More

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