When the final act of the Feast of Fools ended, Modette clapped so hard her hands hurt. She was in disbelief of what she just saw. How could people twist and bend their body that way? And the fact that they did it over and over for a living, for entertainment… Times like these made her certain she would never go back to the bell tower again. She could disguise herself as a disfigured old lady and live off the scraps of the gypsy troupe. She could watch Esmer contort all day, all night.
Modette was all smiles. Big mistake. In her excitement, she did not even realize the sides of her shawl had fallen away. The lady next to her caught sight of her face and gasped. "A monster!"
The girl's heart stopped. She caught wind of more cries of more all around: "Disgusting!"
"What is it?"
"The sewage! It lives!"
Froella's attention was on Modette, her head turned in her direction by now. Her arms were crossed, mouth twisted in a tight scowl. If Modette went home now, she was going to die. Even Clopine, who was shoving the boy off the stage was watching Modette with a tilted head.
Esmer was staring too. His face looked like "Oh. So that wasn't a mask? Looks like we're not the only outcasts after all!" Well, even so… He told her he had seen worse!
And poor Modette. Poor, sweet, sad Modette-all she could do was just cover her face and cry. She made a fool of herself, but she guessed if anyone else was jeered in front of an audience and told they looked like a monster, they'd cry as well.
She was going to get it when she got home.
Modette's arm was about to turn into dust as Froella's grip hardened and she tossed her against the wall of her room. "What did I tell you about leaving the cathedral?" she demanded the minute the festival ended. "And against my wishes?"
Modette staggered up as best she could. She squeezed her arm—nothing. "I'm sorry… "
"And against God at that! And you've been falling behind in your prayer calendar; I haven't heard you keep track of it lately when I leave your room at night. And you say you want to be a nun."
"I'm sorry, Mother. I—"
"And the way you and that gypsy boy were looking at each other on the stage… You two must have something going on, Heaven help the both of you."
"No, Mother. I swear I don't even know—"
Froella slapped her across the face. It must have felt good, because she did it again. "Now you're swearing," she said, belching fire. "I did not raise such an impudent little wretch, so help me God." Tears burned the backs of her eyes. Modette winced as the nun knelt and her voice lowered. "I have never felt so ashamed. Do you know what an embarrassment you are to me now?"
"Yes, Mother… " she mumbled, gingerly rubbing her face.
"Do you know what I have to do to show you?"
Modette began to weep bitterly. She knew at once what this meant.
"And stop that crying." Froella clapped once. "I don't want to see you again for the rest of the week." And she flounced out of the room. She must have felt a little remorseful because she added: "No dinner for three days." And slammed the door shut.
Modette had never been in the pillory in her life, but she had seen others being punished by it. Men who stole, men who cheated, lied. Did things disagreeable to the cathedral. Men who were criminals. Was that what she was now? A criminal? Could God forgive a criminal?
It might have been the hottest day of the year. Not that Modette would know, being shut away like she was. But it was blazing out. She had to stand on a stool to properly brace her neck and arms. They began to ache and her neck was getting stiff. She wanted to drop her head, but if she did that, she would suffocate under its weight. Her vision was starting to go.
Around 12:30–the high point of the day's sun—the black spots began to come and go and Modette noticed a figure approaching. It wasn't Froella; who else did she know in the city?
… It was that gypsy boy from before. Oh why, God; why tempt me again?
He took a step towards her and Modette immediately began to struggle. "Please, please no—" For the love of God, he was going to get her in trouble.
Esmer put a finger to her lips. "Shhh. You're going to get me in trouble." He knelt to her level and revealed the mug hidden in his cloak. "I'm here to help."
Modette hadn't had anything since yesterday afternoon. She drank as fast as she could given the inability to tilt her head back. She had to slurp to get it in and nearly choked several times, but the boy didn't seem to mind. "Poor girl." He sat beside her, tousling her hair. "This is no way to treat a person."
Modette coughed for real as she tripped over the word. Person? Like, a real person? Not a pet or a plaything?
Finally, Modette had her fill and Esmer took the cup away. "I've got to go." He stood up, brushing himself off. "I'll be back tomorrow. When you get out of this thing, ask around for Esmer. I'm your friend." He flashed her a smile that was not scary but genuine. "Come on, Jolie." Then he scurried off, his pretty goat trailing behind.
Modette gave a wobbly smile. She was sure she could handle her punishment now. Two more days of this?
Ten more days of this.