It is a slow way to dye thread. If we did it by the old Vallerian method, leaving the snails to die and rot in big barrels to extract the colour, we could dye much more and earn much more silver. But then our bloodsnails would soon die out. Besides, the Abbey does not need so much silver.
When we had no snails left we carried the baskets and used snails a little farther up the beach. Then we tipped them carefully back into the sea. Our hands and arms were already tinged with red, and they were going to get redder still. After the dyeing a large part of the beach is always stained blood-red, and under the trees where Sister Loeni and Toulan hang up the threads and yarn to dry, the grass looks as if it is made of garnet.
* * *
When evening came, Sister Ers and her novices served up food on the rocks: more bread and cheese and the delicious spiced meat pies filled with dried nirnberries that Sister Ers only ever bakes for the harvest. We ate with dark-red fingers, and the sisters lit two fires, one for them and one for the novices. We gathered around our fire and talked. The sun sank below the creamy layer of cloud resting over the western horizon and hung there like a golden ball. The ocean was a brilliant blue, dappled with darker streaks, and it whispered softly against the shore. The sky along the horizon was the colour of ripe peaches, but above the thin layer of cloud it was bright blue, and the farther my gaze wandered upward, the darker it became. A single star was already out, directly above our heads. Some koan birds flew over the darkening sea with their distinct shrieking calls. Heo was sleeping with her head in my lap while the sun sank into the sea and the sky turned purple. The water shimmered lilac and turquoise like a wrinkled sheet of silk. Then, all the way down by the horizon, the Spring Star lit up, clear and cold.
My eyes felt heavy and my back ached from bending forward all day. The ocean’s whispering song was like a sleepy lullaby. But I love to sit and watch the night sky come creeping across the sea, and I fought against sleep long after the other novices had wrapped themselves up in their blankets and settled down around the fire. Soon Jai was my only company. Her unwavering gaze was fixed on the deep-blue sky and her eyes shone black in the fire’s fading glow.
“Is it not the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?” I asked her in wonder. “All this beauty makes me ache inside.”
Jai nodded and swallowed, and then I saw that tears were spilling from her eyes. I carefully removed Heo’s head from my knee and crawled over to Jai, though she did not seem as if she was going to have another screaming panic attack. She only sat facing the stars, crying and crying in stillness and silence. I took her hand and held it in mine. We sat like that for a long time while the night deepened around us. Eventually Jai spoke up to the stars.
“She will never get to see this. Unai, my sister. She will never get to see any of these beautiful and wonderful things I am experiencing here.” She wiped her cheeks roughly with her free hand. “That is what I think about, Maresi. Everything she will never get to see or do.”
“Is she dead?”
“She is dead. Dead and buried.” Jai took her hand from mine and pressed it over her eyes. “Maresi, I saw them bury her. I saw my father and his brothers shovel earth over her bare face. I saw them stamp the earth down over the place where she lay. I saw them put down their spades and walk away to the village, to drink and celebrate. To celebrate that Unai was gone, celebrate that my good sister was not their problem any more. They left us there next to her grave, my mother and me.”
Many who come to this island have lost people they love. I tried to take Jai’s hand again, to show her that I understood and I shared her pain. But her fists were clenched and she was rigid and distant. “Unai who had never done any harm to anyone!
Unai who was the most obedient of daughters. She swore nothing had happened between her and the boy she had been seen talking to but Father did not believe her. She was on her way from the well and he’d asked her for a drink of water and she gave him some. She was always kind to everybody. She did not even know his name! But Father did not believe her, he called her a whore. The boy was of the Miho folk, not the Koho folk like us. That made it even worse. We are never allowed to mix with them. So Father said the family’s honour was tainted. That she must die. I think about how it must have felt, Maresi.” She sat up, turned towards me and leant her face close up to mine. Her large eyes were as black as coal in the darkness. “Every night when I go to bed I lie there feeling what she felt. My mouth full of earth. The weight of stone and soil on my lungs, my nostrils blocking up. Then soon I cannot breathe at all and I slowly suffocate to death while my family watches on, while my beloved sister watches on and does nothing to save me. Every night I am her, Maresi, every night I am Unai!”
I could not stop myself from recoiling in horror. “You mean,” I said and heard myself splutter, “you mean that she—”
“She was alive when they buried her,” whispered Jai. “And then they stamped on her grave.”
* * *
The weather held out and we stayed at the beach all week. The harvest was good and Sister Loeni was pleased. Mother was with us most days, but she always went back to the Abbey at night to check on the oldest sisters who had not come with us. Sister Ers and her novices made the journey back and forth over the mountain several times with food for the snail-pickers, transported on the donkeys’ backs.
Towards the end of the week the junior novices were losing patience. There were more and more occasions when I found myself running around looking for two or three of them who had gone off on their own down to the beach or into the woods. I would not force them to go back to work, but they had to stay in my sight while they played. The sea can be dangerous if you are not careful, and the woods are large and easy for little girls to get lost in.
One afternoon, as I was coming out of the woods leading Heo and Ismi by the hand, Mother came to meet us. I crouched down next to the girls.
“You must stay where I can see you. What if you got lost in the woods and missed supper? Think how hungry you would be. I know Cissil and Joem are bringing fresh cheese and jam buns today.”
“You’d find us in time,” said Heo with absolute certainty. “You always do.”
She took Ismi by the hand and they ran giggling to play on the rocks. Mother shielded her eyes to watch them and I stood up. “I am sorry, Mother. I try to keep them in line but it is difficult when I am working at the same time.”
I had been at the Abbey for many years but Mother had only spoken to me directly a handful of times. She has more important things to do than talk to novices.
“Has Sister Nummel entrusted the junior novices to you?” she asked, lowering her hand.
“No, Mother.” I looked up. Mother turned her wrinkly face towards me. I had never noticed how long and thick her eyelashes were before.
“Yet you do it anyway. Why?”
I thought for a moment. “They like me. And they need me, I think.” I smiled. “I need them. I do not miss my siblings as much when I can help others.”
“You are thinking about your sister?”
Mother knew all about Anner. It was easy to forget sometimes, but she knew everything about the novices. I nodded. Maybe looking after the other little ones at the Abbey was my way of compensating for her death. I wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to them. I wanted to protect them like I could not protect Anner.
“You are helping Jai as well.” It was a statement, not a question. I looked over at Jai to where she was bent double, walking along the edge of the sunlit sea.
“Ennike helped me when I first came. Now it is my turn.”
“Has Jai told you what she has gone through?” Mother began walking along the edge of the woods, back to Sister Loeni’s dyeing table, and I followed behind. The mild sea breeze carried the sound of the junior novices’ laughter. It smelt of seaweed and salt and trodden grass.
“Some. She will tell more when she is ready.”
“You are important to her, Maresi. You must not abando
n her.”
I looked at Mother with surprise. Her tone had suddenly become very serious.
“Of course I will not, Mother.”
“Good.” She raised her hand in greeting to Sister Loeni and her voice sounded normal again. “Perhaps Sister Nummel will call you to be her novice. You are good with the children.”
Sister Nummel? I had never considered it before. Maybe. I did get on well with her and we did often talk about the junior novices and their troubles. But it did not quite sit right in my gut. Of course I liked taking care of the little ones, but…
“You are already responsible for them, in any case.” Mother turned to me, her voice low and intense again. Her eyes were the same bright blue as her headscarf. “If anything happens I want you to take care of the juniors, Maresi. I trust them in your safekeeping.” She touched my forehead with one finger and I understood that her words carried great importance. I nodded solemnly. Mother regarded me awhile and then left without another word.
“What did Mother want?” asked Ennike curiously. She came walking up to me with an empty basket on her arm and Jai on her heels. I thought about how Mother had looked at me when she talked about Jai.
“I think Sister Nummel might call me to be her novice,” I answered slowly.
“Would you like that?” asked Ennike. “You do enjoy being with the children.”
“I think so.” I looked at Heo and Ismi jumping along the water’s edge, pretending they were riding invisible horses. Jai followed my gaze.
“I would like it too,” she said, much to my surprise. “I like little children. I have three little brothers. I raised them at least as much as my mother did.”
Ennike and I exchanged a glance. I had told her about Jai and Unai. I had not told anybody else, but seeing as Jai spent so much time with us, I thought it best that Ennike knew.
“You are welcome to help me with them,” I said. “Let’s go and see if we can get them to pick some snails before it is time to eat.”
AFTER HARVEST WEEK ABBEY LIFE started up again as usual with lessons, rituals and duties. We were looking forward to Moon Dance and the wonderful celebration feast afterwards. At night I dreamt about pies and koan eggs.
Sister O’s lessons focused on how the world works.
“There are many people throughout the known lands who worship false gods. They take heroes from legends and turn them into gods or pray to giant sea monsters or create gods in their own image and offer sacrifices to them.” Sister O lectured us from the front of the classroom. Winds from the sea crept in through the open window, carrying the sounds of early summer: flies, seabirds screeching, the soft bleating of newborn kids up in the goat house.
“But it is the First Mother who gave life to the world and all power comes from her,” continued Sister O. “Her energy flows through the earth like blood flows through our veins. There are certain people who leech off the lifeblood of the First Mother, who take her power and use it for their own gain.”
“But there are other ways to invoke the First Mother’s power,” said Ranna. She and her sister Ydda are both Sister Kotke’s novices and their clothes are also always a little damp and wrinkled from the steam of Body’s Spring. I like them. They are strong and not afraid of hard work and, though they mainly keep to themselves, they have always been friendly to me.
Ydda nodded to her sister. “In our homeland Lavora there is a legend about a girl who summoned the wind and tore up mountains with her singing. But she did not take anything from the First Mother. She worked with her.”
“That legend is very old,” said Sister O. “You are quite right. She learnt to hear the First Mother’s voice and sing in harmony with it. There are other stories, more recent ones, about women who have actually seen the First Mother. She has many different names and faces, but she exists everywhere, whatever she is called.” Sister O pointed outside to the junior novices’ classroom. “Little Heo is the descendant of an Akkade woman who helped the First Mother take revenge on a man who had harmed her, and she saw one of her faces.”
“How can someone use the First Mother’s power?” asked Dori. Bird was pecking affectionately at her ear.
“All women have the First Mother in them,” said Sister O. “There are many ways of invoking her power. Much of this knowledge is lost today. In the beginning we remembered more of our origin and perhaps had more of the First Mother in us.” She raised an ominous finger. “But people have also exploited the First Mother’s power, by tearing it out of the very ground we walk on.”
“How can the First Mother let that happen?” Ennike sounded upset. “It is not right!”
“No it is not right, but the First Mother rarely gets involved in people’s dealings with each other. We are responsible for ourselves and our own lives. That is the gift she has given us.”
“How can the First Mother’s power be torn out?” I asked. It did not sound possible.
“Nobody knows for sure. It is mentioned in the First Sisters’ scriptures, but those texts are difficult to understand. The First Mother’s power had somehow been exploited and weakened in the Sisters’ homeland. But, knowing that such knowledge is dangerous and nearly always used in the wrong way, the First Sisters wrote in riddles. People could take wealth and power for themselves and enslave others. They did not want just anyone to be able to read the scriptures and ascertain how to do this.”
“Why can men not come to the island?”
It was the first time Jai had ever asked a question in class. All heads turned towards her, but Sister O did not seem to notice anything unusual.
“This is sacred ground. The First Sisters knew it as soon as they arrived. The First Mother’s power is strong here. Her blood runs near the surface. In different parts of the world they worship different aspects of the First Mother. Some revere the Maiden, others the Mother, and a few people worship the Crone. Here we know the truth of the First Mother: she is all three. All of her sides are equally present here. The beginning, the continuation and the end are all here. The First Sisters decided that men must not come here, perhaps to protect the Abbey, or perhaps for some other reason. It has been that way ever since. In the outside world there are rumours of a curse on any man who sets foot on Menos. We do nothing to dispel these rumours.” Sister O gave a wry smile.
Jai leant forward. “But what would happen if a man came here?”
“It has happened. When the thieves attacked the First Sisters,” I answered quickly. “Remember the story I told?”
“It happened another time,” said Sister O, to my surprise. “A lone man came here some generations ago. He sought protection and healing. The Abbey gave him refuge and cured his wounds.”
Jai crossed her arms tightly. “Why? Why did the First Mother allow that? Why did the Abbey allow that?” Her voice was tense.
“Men are not our enemies, Jai. This man needed our help and we gave it of our own free will. We are the guardians of the First Mother’s wisdom, but the wisdom is for the benefit of all.”
* * *
One day after lessons Sister O called me back just as I was about to leave the classroom. Jai stopped in the doorway and looked at us, but Sister O waved her away.
“You read every night in the library,” she said. I nodded. Sister O looked out of the window at the sea. She always stands with bad posture and has to jut her chin out high in compensation so as not to look at the floor. Her neck makes the shape of an S. She looks like a skinny wading bird in a blue headscarf.
“Can you read all the books?”
“No. Not the oldest ones which the First Sisters wrote in their own language and brought with them from the Eastern lands.”
“Would you like to learn to read them?” Sister O turned to me.
I would often look at the ancient books and scrolls and wonder what they contained. I hate not being able to read everything I see. It is like some wonderful secret right in front of my face, or a bit of delicious spiced meat pie that is pulled away every time I r
each out my hand. I nodded eagerly.
“Oh yes! I have always wondered what kind of knowledge the First Sisters brought with them.”
“Much of it has been written about in other books since.”
“But you always say that an interpretation is never the same as learning something for yourself!”
Sister O smiled drily at my eagerness.
“If you are seriously interested I can teach you the basics of the language. That means that you would have one or two lessons with me, in my chamber I think, after the normal lessons of the day. Could you manage that?”
“Can we start straight away?” I went up to Sister O and would have taken her hand and dragged her to her chamber right then if I had dared. “Please?”
“Hm. I have to ask Mother first. But if she gives her blessing we can start tomorrow.”
* * *
Mother had no objections to the proposal, so the next day I started my lessons in the Eastern tongue with Sister O. Jai did not want to be alone and she refused to go anywhere while I was with Sister O. Instead she sat outside in the Temple yard and waited until I was finished. Often Heo or one of the cats would keep her company.
When I first came to the Abbey I learnt the coast language because I had to. It was scary not being able to understand what people were saying around me. I did not have any language lessons but had to absorb everything I heard as quickly as possible. This time, however, I was learning out of curiosity, not necessity. I was very disappointed to discover that it was a much harder and slower process this time, without hearing the language all around me. Sister O did not know how the words were pronounced; it was a written language we had to contend with. I felt as if it was taking for ever to understand the texts, but Sister O scoffed at my complaints and muttered that she did not understand how it was possible that I could learn so fast.
The Red Abbey Chronicles Page 5
