The Sisterhood by Helen Bryan Page B

special tax and not make trouble against the Moors, but is OK to be Christians and Jews. And nuns make no trouble. Once they go in, the nuns they never leave the convent. Tax is no problem either—convent was rich, and girls bring money when they come to be nuns. The girls, they come here as babies and they become nuns.
    “Oh that sounds…as babies? Why? How did they know they wanted to be nuns if they were babies?”
    “Was orphanage. They have no parents, maybe they have no choice. I don’t know.”
    He gave the bell another tug. “The nuns make medicines and cakes and sweets.” He pointed to the window covered by dark ironlatticework. “They sell there, to pay the religious tax. And because it is very old, very holy convent, there were many pilgrims coming here, people sorry for their sins. There was a kind of hospital—sick people come, too, Muslim and Jewish sick people, nuns treat them as well as Christians, and an orphanage.”
    “Sounds busy.” Menina’s feet hurt and she was so tired by now she was ready to lie down and sleep under the olive trees. But what if the men in the plaza found her?
    “Yes, great ladies, queens even, they make the pilgrimage here because it is so old, so holy. In the chapel is a tomb of a princess from the north, from Leon, was Christian, who came here to be a nun in the time of the Moors, and behind the convent are caves in the mountain where nuns were buried, like the catacombs in Rome. But now”—he shrugged—“is not so important, no one comes. Is only a few old nuns. They still make sweets to sell to the tourists at
Semana Santa
. This does not make a lot of money. Nuns are very poor now, poor and old. Is hard for them. They get sick. People in the village still help, bring them food so they don’t starve, and wood for the fires but in winter is very cold.”
    He pointed up and Menina squinted in the dusk. She couldn’t see much. “Windows broken. Everything broken. They say it will close when the last nun dies. Terrible to think there will be one old woman all alone here, all the rest dead. Is many years ago, when I was a boy, a few pilgrims were still coming, but no more for a long time. But there are rooms where pilgrims and travelers could stay. Is why I bring you.”
    “Maybe it wasn’t a good idea. No one’s answering the bell,” Menina said anxiously. She couldn’t decide whether it was better to take refuge inside such a creepy place away from the men in the square or whether there was no way she was setting foot in it. “Let’s not bother them.”
    “Don’t worry, nuns are there, only a little deaf. Always it is necessary to wait and ring for some time before they hear.” He rang the bell again. “Besides, it is good for them if a visitor knows about paintings.”
    “Why?”
    “Because the old convents, the old monasteries, like this one, they have paintings. If you stay here you can help, see if you think any paintings are worth money, so the nuns can sell. They could have heat, the sick ones have nurses and medicine, they can fix some broken things.”
    “That sounds like a good plan, but really, I’m no specialist. Look, I’m only in junior college! You need an expert.” She felt for the card in her pocket. “But there is an expert, a famous one, on our tour, Professor Lennox. She’s half Spanish. I think. And I could call her if I could just get to a phone,” Menina wheedled. How could there be absolutely no phones? “I have her cell phone number.”
    “But I told you, is no phones. No electricity even, here. But please, try. Is good if you find something, but if not, then you cannot. Don’t worry. Sor Teresa speaks a little English. She learned as a girl, so you can ask her.”
    No phone, now no electricity. Great! But he’d said please…
    Just then the latticed window opened from inside. A high-pitched old voice exclaimed, “Aha!” and demanded crossly to know who was ringing the bell, saying something about having