“Sangue di Cristo,” intoned Padre Antonio, as full-bodied Suor Dolcina drank deeply from the silver chalice, Precious Blood rich and honeyed on her tongue.

“Amen.” A crimson droplet trickled across her lower lip. She savoured it, and saved it, gently touching a plump finger to her mouth.

As she shared a kneeler with Angelica, her scarlet digit intruded under the folds of her fellow novice’s habit. And where she touched her sister’s pungent wetness, there were joined together oblation and ecstasy, wine and cream, blood and water.

He who saw it testifies truthfully, that ye may believe.