Disclaimers, acknowledgements, notes, warnings, etc: Please see Chapter 01.

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The Sound of Music Chronicles

Part I

The Twelfth Governess

Chapter 06

The Black Sheep of Nonnberg Abbey

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"How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at interval upon the ear
In cadence sweet; now dying all away,
Now pealing loud again, and louder still,
Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on!
With easy force it opens all the cells
Where Memory slept."

William Cowper

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"A bell is no bell 'til you ring it.

A song is no song 'til you sing it.

And love in your heart wasn't put there to stay.

Love isn't love 'til you give it away."

Rodgers & Hammerstein, The Sound of Music

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The girl was running up the 144 steps of the Nonnberg Stiege at a maddening speed. She was late, hopelessly, inexcusably late. There was an immense list of chores waiting for her in the convent, and now, with the precious half hour she had lost, she would never be able to accomplish everything before the day was over. To make matters worse, she had missed the morning prayers, something unheard of for a postulant. She should expect a heavy penance for it. It was fortunate that she had fallen into the good graces of the Reverend Mother; otherwise she would have been expelled from Nonnberg long ago.

There was no excuse, it was all her fault. When she woke up at down and looked outside the window of her cell, she was lost. The day was so beautiful, it felt like such a sin to stay inside instead of going out only for a moment, to admire God´s work and say a prayer of thanks because she was so privileged to be able to enjoy such an earthly paradise. She had not planned to walk so far, at least not at first. All right, she admitted that she felt tempted to ride the bus to the Untersberg and climb her favorite mountain, but it would take too much of her time.

She settled for the Mönchsberg instead.

As usual, she forgot herself among the many pathways crossing the hill. Singing, she lost track of the time. In the Abbey, they never allowed the postulants to sing freely. It was terribly restrictive, and one of the few things she did not quite like about her religious life. But out there, in the hills she loved so much, she could sing freely, playing with her whole vocal range. Only when she heard the bells announcing the morning prayers, she realized how late she was. All she could do was to grab her discarded wimple and run as fast as her legs could carry her.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she did not even allow herself a moment to breathe. Her only thought was to go back to the Abbey as soon as possible, preferably unnoticed – that is, if she could manage that kind of miracle. She crossed the stone paved street not bothering to look left or right…

The car missed her by mere inches. If she arrived another second later, it would have hit her squarely, and no she would be singing at the top of her lungs and exploring her vocal range with the angels in heaven above. Naturally she was being a little too optimistic. Some of the nuns would accuse her of the sin of pride if they heard her uttering such nonsense. The best she could expect at the moment would be the purgatory, where she would be talking incessantly; trying to convince whoever was in charge that she deserved a place in heaven.

In all fairness, she did not think the driver even saw her. She barely had the time to jump back, badly bruising her backside when she fell alongside the road. Looking angrily towards the curve where the car was about to disappear, she caught the briefest glimpse of him: a man in a fashionable fedora in what looked like a very expensive automobile. She cursed and uttered a quick prayer, asking for forgiveness, ending it with a sign of the cross. Then she thanked God because she was still alive and in one piece. Whatever punishment was reserved for her before the end of the day, it could not be worse than walking to an early grave.

Well, an early grave was where that man would be headed to, if he continued driving so fast.

The madman!

He drove like a maniac, and she wondered where he was going in such a hurry. Was his wife having a baby and he was looking for a doctor? If that were the case, he would not find one anywhere near Nonnberg, he was headed in the wrong direction. Was somebody dying and he needed a priest for the last rites? He would not find one in Nonnberg either, not at this hour. The priest who conducted the morning Mass would have already left at this hour.

Shaking her head, she looked down at her habit, accessing the damage. It wasn´t bad, really, she had been very lucky. She stood up, straightening herself. There was another noticeable tear in one of the sleeves, and she moaned. She could be scowled at if one of the nuns saw it, but she would not have the time to mend it until the end of the day.

Limping a little at first, she walked the rest of the way to the gate. The automobile was there, parked underneath the old oak tree. She had been right in her quick first impression when it almost run over her – it was the most elegant car she had ever seen. Undoubtedly it belonged to a distinguished gentleman, and she could not help but wonder what he would be doing in the Abbey. Her curiosity was picked. There was only one possibility she could think of. Would the nuns be allowed another grand wedding in the chapel? If so, she could not help but being excited. Such occasions were so rare. The chapel was beautiful, and couples frequently asked for permission to have weddings there. However, it was a privilege that was rarely granted by the Mother Abbess.

Big wedding or not, she could not help being extremely angry at the potential groom. Her attention was back to the automobile, and she let out an expletive. In her old days as a tomboy, she would be more than glad to empty all of the four tires of the car belonging to a man who, apparently, had no regard for human life. Hers, at least. Well, if she were not so late, she would do that anyway, just to drive him as insanely mad as he had driven her. That would teach the maniac to conduct his vehicle at a decent speed.

Still mumbling against the mad driver, she rang the bell at the gate. Sister Augusta came to open it, and she sighed in relief. The censorious look the old nun cast her was frightening, but at least she did not say a word. She could not say anything at all – the old sister had made a vow of silence, and had said a word in years.

As soon as she was out of Sister Augusta´s ominous sight, she started running again, towards the patio. At first, she thought she was alone. She run to the well and treated herself to large gulps of water. It was a hot day, she´d been running up and down the Mönchsberg for hours, singing loudly. Then a madman wearing a fedora nearly run over her with his very expensive automobile. Thirsty did not even begin to describe what she was feeling. Buckets and buckets of cold water would not be enough to cool her flared temper, or her body.

Some sixth sense told her that she was no longer alone. She turned around slowly, water still dripping from her face…

It was bad, very bad. It was the worst scenario she could possibly have imagined.

There were six or seven nuns watching her. Among them Sister Berthe, the Mistress of the Novices, Sister Margaretta, the Mistress of the Postulants. At last, but not least, at the center of the group, the Reverend Mother herself. It was a reception committee worthy of her worst nightmares.

But there was someone else. Some sixth sense warned her about another presence to her right, a very discernible prickling in the back of her neck. With the corner of her eye she saw him – no, she saw his shadow moving among the archways of the patio, fedora and all. It could only be him, the mad driver.

"Show yourself, you sneaky coward," she wanted to yell. And when he did, obeying what she hoped would be a superior, commanding tone; she would give him a piece of her mind.

Her little reverie never became a reality, simply because she had bigger worries. Sister Berthe was looking her so viciously that for a moment she wished a hole would open in the ground and swallow her. The highest ranked nuns of Nonnberg Abbey were there, watching her like hawks, having caught her in the act of the latest of her many transgressions. There could be trouble ahead… Judging by the severe look in their eyes, there would be trouble ahead.

What could she do?

Just the best in the worst possible situation. Resigned, she managed an apologetic weak smile, she shrugged. Then she ran from the patio, as fast as she could.

There was one thing Captain Georg Ritter von Trapp had not been able to shut out after the death of his wife – the pealing of Salzburg's church bells.

He was granted the relief of not being able to hear them in his villa, but whenever he had to go to town – which he now avoided as much as possible – he was greeted with the sounds. And with their clanging came the memories, and the angst. Even Elsa's extraordinary diplomatic talent would be completely useless against the sound of those bells. He sought refuge from them in Vienna, but there, in the heart of Salzburg, he was helpless to their melodic noise.

Agathe loved the sound of the bells – it had been one of the reasons they lived so close to Salzburg. She had told him of her fond memories of visiting the city as a child, and how she had fallen in love with it because the wonderful tolls of the bells could be heard everywhere. Sometimes, she would ask him to stay in town just for a few more minutes so that she could hear their melodies before they drove back to Aigen.

"I want this to be the last sound I hear before I die," she had said once.

The last sound?

He had rolled his eyes, then scolded her for being overly dramatic, assuring her that not only he would be the first one to go, but also that she would probably live to be one hundred years old. He had further teased her that by the time she was a hundred she wouldn't be able to hear the person speaking to her, much less all the bells of Salzburg.

"Besides," he finally added after a scolding look from her, "I like to believe that the last sound you wanted to hear would be the sound of my voice whispering in your ear about the things I would like to do when we are finally alone again." His taunt had earned him a playful slap to his arm, and some alone time with his wife.

But there were other memories as well.

Their three youngest children had been born in Salzburg, and he remembered the pealing bells after their christening. The bells also rang joyful tones when the eldest had taken their first communion. And in each and every one of these occasions, she had been by his side, her hand in his arm. Sometimes, she would take his hand in hers, their fingers entwining – the maximum display of affection he had allowed himself to take with her in public during such occasions. Such conventions seemed so ridiculous now. If he could only go back and change a few things, only to be able to kiss her once more, hold her hand just once more. How much he ached to hold her in their marriage bed once again. The few nights in their marriage in which they had gone to bed angry, separately, he would gladly erase. What he wouldn't give to beg for her forgiveness if only to have her in his arms. What he wouldn't give to have her again.

Right after she had been pronounced dead the Sterbeglocke from the Aigen church had pealed three times, because she was a woman, then one time for each of the thirty-two years she had lived. And then, the first time he heard the Salzburg bells after her death, the ache had been too great to overcome. He was in the Altstadt, just outside the door of an antiquary, owned by his good friend Erik Drasche (1) – or Hans Schneider, as he insisted being called nowadays. The bell above the door to the shop had only been a prelude to the bells of Salzburg that had begun ringing momentarily afterward. He had been too overcome with grief to even stay and speak with his friend. No, instead, he fled the city, driving endlessly for hours, and then finally drowning his sorrows in his study and a bottle of bourbon.

He stood there at the iron gates of the Benedictine Abbey of Nonnberg, listening to the bell's last tolls before ringing the bell announcing his arrival (2). He had been there only once before years ago, with Agathe, not too long after they had moved to Aigen, in the outskirts of Salzburg. They wanted to make a donation to the orphanage, and they had been received by the Reverend Mother. He was not even sure that his presence would be welcome, but his wife – who knew far more than he did about convents - replied instantly:

"Why not? Those poor nuns would starve if their Mother Abbess was forbidden to deal with men. The cloister is a living, breathing entity, darling, it must support itself. The Reverend Mother is not merely their religious leader, she is their... Captain, as well, in every sense of the word!"

He still remembered his first impression of the elderly nun - kindness, patience, and wisdom personified. After the visit was over, she showed them around the whole convent, including the museum and archives. She had not taken them to the purely feminine and sheltered environment of the Klausur, no one but the members of the fraternity were allowed there. Agathe had returned many times since that day, since she had taken an instant liking to the Reverend Mother, but he had never seen the woman again, often sending his apologies for his absence with his wife. However, they had corresponded, at least while Agathe was alive – and she frequently inquired about the welfare of his children.

A very old nun soon appeared, walking very slowly, and he shifted his weight from one leg to another, impatiently, the typical sign of a man who was accustomed to having people wait for him than the other way around. The woman did not say anything, but just looked at him, questioningly. He knew that some of the cloistered nuns made a vow of silence, and had not spoken for years, so he decided to be the first one to speak.

"I'm Captain Georg von Trapp. I am here to see the Mother Abbess. She is expecting me."

The silent nun nodded, her expression impassive. Then she disappeared again, without a gesture. Another nun appeared, moments later – this one quite different. She was tall and thin and walked briskly, in a somewhat military manner. Her face did not have any of the old nun's gentility – it was sour, like if she were permanently displeased about something.

"I wager this one enjoys using a ruler in the young novice's knuckles," he thought. He also thought that someone like her would be able to fix his children – in his mind, this nun, whatever her name was, was already very close to being the ideal governess. No doubt the Mother Abbess would be able to help him. Mentally, he congratulated himself on the success of his excursion.

"I am Sister Berthe, Mistress of Novices here at Nonnberg. The Reverend Mother is indeed expecting you, Captain von Trapp." She opened the iron gates. "She will see you in her study."

"Thank you, Sister Berthe."

He had already explained most of his situation in the letter he had sent a week ago, requesting an audience with the Mother Abbess. He wrote it shortly after dismissing the 11th governess. However, he felt that seeing the woman personally was essential. As he followed the nun, they crossed a large, high walled courtyard. There, tending to a vase of pink roses, was the Reverend Mother – several years had passed since he had last seen her, but he recognized her instantly. When they approached, she did not even wait for Sister Berthe to make the proper introductions, and extended him her hand.

"Captain von Trapp, what an honor it is to meet you again, at last!"

"The honor is all mine, Mother Abbess." He reverently kissed the elder woman's hand.

"Oh please, it is not every day that we have the pleasure of having a naval hero in our Abbey. I am only sorry I have to meet you here. You see, I trust no one else to tend to these flowers, and I have so little time to do that myself."

"The roses are quite magnificent, I am very much impressed." He eyed the antique vase – Roman or Greek, he could not be sure -, noting that he had seen a similar one many years ago in Erik's shop.

"Thank you, they are my pride and joy. And it seems that they respond to me, and to me only. Just like your ship answers only to your commands, Captain."

"The ship is no more, Reverend Mother. And what is a Captain without a ship?"

"A Captain like you, Baron von Trapp, will always have a ship anchored somewhere." She sighed, as he remained impassive. "If you don´t look for them, they will look for you. There is a little something I always say to my young postulants: "When the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window""

He smiled condescendingly, not wanting to contradict the Mother Abbess. She may be known for her wisdom, but she knew nothing, or very little, about life outside the high convent walls. She knew nothing of his life, about everything that he'd had, and everything that he had lost. If she were any of his friends, he would have already retorted with a biting remark, but the knowing expression in the woman's face told him that, somehow, she knew he would do just that. He felt absurdly at a loss for words.

"Come, let us walk to my study, where we can talk more privately," she urged.

They crossed the courtyard again, but as soon as they reached the archways that surrounded it, they were interrupted by no less than three nuns, walking rapidly. The sour faced one, who had opened the gates to him, and two others he had not yet met. One had a saintly expression in her face, not so much different from the Reverend Mother's, but lacking the air of maturity and wisdom. They were both followed by a young nun, who also had a very worried look on her face.

"Reverend Mother?"

"Sister Bernice?" The woman gave a small curtsy to the Reverend Mother. "I am afraid this will have to wait until later."

"With all due respect, Mother, I must insist. This might be urgent." The younger woman looked up, the Captain noting the worry in her eyes. At the Reverend Mother's nod to continue, the younger woman cried, "We are missing one of them. I simply cannot find her."

"Who are you looking for, my child?"

"Maria!"

The Mother Abbess looked heavenward, and turned to the Captain.

"I am sorry, Captain, could you excuse us just for a moment. I am afraid life here at the convent is not as quiet and peaceful as people usually imagine. It seems that one of my lambs has wandered to greener pastures. I really must take care of this little… problem."

"Certainly," the Captain bowed, and stepped aside, to allow the nuns to speak freely. But he still heard bits and pieces of their conversation, while pacing around the arches.

"She's missing from the Abbey again."

"Perhaps we should have put a cowbell around her neck," the sour faced sun suggested wryly. The suggestion made him smile – yes, he did like Sister Berthe. She would have made a great submarine commander.

"Have you tried the barn? You know how much she adores the animals," the saintly nun suggested.

"I have looked everywhere, in all of the usual places," replied the young nun.

"Sister Bernice, considering that it's Maria, I suggest you look in someplace unusual,"the Mother Abbess suggested.

Sister Bernice nodded and walked away. When she passed him and cast him a worried glance. For a moment he thought she was about to ask him if he had seen her, whoever she was, but the young nun merely shrugged and moved on quickly.

As soon as she saw the Captain disappearing behind the arches of the courtyard, the Mother Abbess turned her attention back to the nuns surrounding her.

"Well, Reverend Mother, I hope this new infraction ends whatever doubts you may still have about Maria's future here."

"I always try to keep faith in my doubts, Sister Berthe." She cast a worried glance to the brooding Captain, as he walked away, hands behind his back, his military stance rigid. He certainly was not a man who was accustomed to waiting, and she hoped he would not be annoyed by the interruption. She knew what he wanted, but at the same time, she doubted she could help him – in fact, she had prayed for guidance only that morning.

"After all, the wool of a black sheep is just as warm!"

Sister Berthe interrupted her briskly. "We are not talking about sheep, black or white, Sister Margaretta. Of all the candidates for the novitiate I would say that Maria is the least likely…"

"Children, children." She nodded towards the Captain, and lowered her voice almost to a whisper. "Do you see that man over there? That gentleman has done more for our beloved country than anyone else I know. He is also one of this convent's greatest benefactors. Without his and his late wife´s generosity we would have been forced to close the orphanage long ago. Now it is he who needs our urgent help, in a matter concerning his children, and the least I can do is listen to him. So, could we please leave this – Maria problem – for some other time?"

"I understand, Reverent Mother, but with all due respect," Sister Berthe insisted. "You've all been so keen about Maria, from the start, and I never quite understood that. She came to us without a single reference or anyone to speak for her character. And she's been nothing but trouble! She is outspoken, brash, and downright disrespectful to any kind of higher authority."

"It is not our place to judge her, Sister Berthe. Maria came to us seeking to know the Lord, and who are we to turn her away?" Sister Margaretta argued.

More nuns gathered now, attracted by the argument.

The Reverend Mother silenced the commotion with a gesture, then proceeded to explain the situation to the new arrivals. "We were speculating about the qualifications of some of our postulants. The Mistress of Novices and the Mistress of Postulants were trying to help me by expressing opposite points of view. Tell me, Sister Catherine, what do you think of... Maria?"

"She's a wonderful girl... some of the time."

"Sister Agatha?"

"It's very easy to like Maria... except when it's, uh, difficult."

"And you, Sister Sophia?"

"Oh, I love her very dearly. But she always seems to be in trouble, doesn't she?"

"Exactly what I say!" said Sister Berthe.

The nuns were now engaged in a debate, which the Captain continued watching, in fascination, as he, once again, reviewed every misconception he had about life in a convent. And to think that he believed all the members of the Order were models of restraint and decorum! They continued to talk about the Black Sheep of Nonnberg for a while. Distracted by an old inscription in Latin he found on a wall, he stopped paying attention to whatever they said about the nefarious black sheep in question. It was none of his business – why would he care about the Abbey's troubles?

Any one of these women would make a fine addition to his household staff. His letter made it clear to her precisely what he wanted – someone who could take care of his children, someone who would stand firm to them, and the reason for his presence today was to stress the point. He was startled by a door slamming, followed by quick footsteps. But when he walked around the column to see what was going on, the commotion was over. He wondered if it had been the black sheep who had finally wandered home. The nuns were quietly scattering, walking in that steady, calm pace.

The Reverend Mother signaled to him, and he walked towards her.

"I am sorry for the disruption, Captain. As you see, I too have difficulty running a tight ship myself."

"And yet, you do a remarkable job. Which is precisely why I sought your help and advice, Reverend Mother. I only hope I am not disturbing you. I am afraid I caught you at a bad time."

"Not at all, Captain. It is nothing but an ordinary day. Some of these girls need more guidance and discipline than others. It does not mean that they are necessarily bad, only… a little lost, perhaps." The Captain remained silent. "But Captain, I would do anything to help you and your family. You and your dear wife – May God bless her soul – did so much for us, and you still do. Whatever we can do to help..."

"Reverend Mother, as I said briefly in my letter…"

A/N: (1) Hans Schneider in the previous version of my TSOM stories. (2) The Captain inside the Abbey – would that be even possible? With the help of "maxisback" I discovered that the answer is yes. Nonnberg is a Benedictine Abbey, and their rules are not so strict. With the exception of the Klausur, men are indeed allowed inside, and can even be received by the Reverend Mother in her study.