The Red Abbey Chronicles

by Maria Turtschaninoff

  “You realize she is gone now, right? Maresi, she is dead. Mother is dead! Father would never have let her live.”

  AT THE SECOND FULL MOON AFTER the awakening of the Spring Star, moon and star come into alignment and it is time for Moon Dance. It is the most important of all the rites of the Abbey. It is when we visit the First Mother in her own realm and she meets us with all three aspects: Maiden, Mother and Crone. Moon Dance honours the First Mother and we dance for the fertility of the world and the inseparable union of life and death. Mother always explains this to us the day before the dance.

  * * *

  We undressed on the beach. The night was cloudless and the moon was high in the sky, gazing down on us from amongst her starry entourage. The moon who rules the movements of water and women’s blood, the moon who gives energy to all that lives and grows, the moon who measures time and reigns over death. The moon in whose image woman was created, the Moon, the Goddess, who hears our sorrows and shares our joy.

  We stood in a line, alternating sisters and novices, and Mother took her position at the front and began to sing. It was a wordless, wailing song which carried over the bay and encircled us as we walked along the beach, towards the cape that encloses the bay to the south. Mother led us around the cape to Maidendance, a labyrinth of smooth, round stones of the same sort found along the beaches. It is there all year, eternal and strong, but we only go there once a year at Moon Dance.

  Burning torches were stuck into the earth encircling the labyrinth. They made the surrounding darkness deeper still. When I looked up the Moon appeared larger than before, as if Mother’s song had brought her closer. It was a brisk night and the stones were chilly beneath my feet, but I did not feel the cold. Mother’s song kept me warm.

  Mother was the first to dance into the labyrinth and out again. Maidendance is not a labyrinth to get lost in. It is a labyrinth to lead us into the other realm. Where life and death are one, and the Goddess herself resides. Mother lifted her feet up high, took big steps and carefully avoided touching the stones which formed the labyrinth. Touching them brings very bad luck. Mother has danced the Moon Dance for many years and never touched a stone. She came to a stop when she reached the middle and started spinning around slowly while her song turned into words. Words about the Goddess, words of the Goddess. Words which lauded and praised, cowered and trembled, saw and foresaw. They were hard to catch and fully understand. I could hear her singing about danger, singing about blood, about lifeblood and spilt blood, and shadows coming ever closer.

  One by one sisters and novices weaved their voices into the song and danced through the labyrinth. Everybody danced in their own way and everybody added something new to the song. Voice after voice joined in with the song of worship, making it swell and grow like the ocean tide. But only Mother sang with the voice of the Goddess herself.

  When Jai’s turn came and the labyrinth pulled her in she raised her hands in terror at first, but then the Moon called to her and opened her mouth, and she joined her song in with the others’. Her fair hair reflected the moonlight and torchlight, shining gold and silver at the same time. Her body looked very thin and her scars glowed red against her white skin. As soon as she took the first step her hands flew out to the sides and she began to spin. Slowly at first, a little way into the labyrinth, but then with more and more force. The swing of the song went on. How could she not touch a stone if she kept spinning like that? I was the only one left who had not sung yet and I wanted to rush out and stop Jai. But Mother carried on singing loudly and steadily while the women and the girls lowered their voices and sang Jai through the labyrinth. She was spinning so quickly her hair whipped her in the face, and her movements became a blur. When she reached the middle she sped up even more, which I would not have thought possible. She spun until the sand whirled around her feet, until the torch flames flailed, until the Moon came down and kissed her flying hair. Sisters and novices sang and sang and Jai sang too, and together they all sang her out of the labyrinth again.

  She had not touched a single stone.

  My turn came last. When I took the first step of the dance my voice burst into song involuntarily. I heard it ringing in my ears but I was not aware of my mouth forming sounds. I felt the warmth of the torch flames on my skin, but I could not see them. All I saw was the Moon.

  She was enormous now. So close that if I stretched out my hand I could touch her cool cheek. She filled my whole vision, filled me with her music. Now I understood: it was about life and death. I gave up my body to the song and let it dance me into the labyrinth.

  I had danced this dance before and always felt the Moon’s energy flood over me and leave me feeling wild, empowered and free. But this time it was different. The Moon was bigger than ever before. Her energy was making the air vibrate. The moonlight pulsed so that everything around me seemed to flicker. The women outside the labyrinth, the rocks around us, the dark sea—everything was blurred and warped, like looking through the bottom of a bottle of Vallerian wine. The song continued to steer my steps and each one was solid and precise; I did not touch a stone.

  Something loomed large in the centre of the labyrinth. In the vibrating, trembling night it was the only thing whose form was fixed and clear.

  It was a door, tall and narrow and silver in the bright moonlight. It was closed, but I could sense the darkness that waited on the other side. Darkness so deep not even the light of the Moon could penetrate it. It was the door from the hunger winter, and behind it the Crone was waiting.

  I was gripped by a fear that cut through the trance and the song, and I tried in vain to stop my steps. The dance was taking me closer and closer to the door. I could not tear my eyes away from it. I had never seen it so clearly before. I could see that the frame was blackened with age, but the surface of the door was shimmering. I could see the handle, shaped like a snake with onyx eyes. The door was all too familiar. I did not want to see it, I did not want to acknowledge it existed, but my eyes refused to look away and my legs refused to obey me. A stream of air flowed out through the crack underneath the door and coiled around my calves. The rancid breath of the Crone. It mixed with the metallic smell of blood from my own skin. The smell of death that has clung to me for years, ever since the hunger winter. Since the Crone took Anner.

  My jaws ached from trying to hold back the song and my body jerked from the strain of trying to stave off the dance. I was getting closer, so close that the tentacles of darkness were licking at my body. They were creeping out through the cracks around the door, luring and drawing me in. I could not resist. Nobody can resist death.

  Then I heard the voice. It came floating through the darkness; it was made of darkness. Fragmented words stretching out to me.

  Maresi. My daughter. Here, see my gateway. My mouth.

  I danced on the threshold as the voice of the Crone scratched at my bones.

  This is your House, said the Crone, and the terror became so great that I finally found my voice.

  “I do not want to!” I screamed.

  As soon as I broke the song the music cut out, the moonlight paled and the door disappeared. Clarity returned to the world.

  “I do not want to!” I screamed over and over again until Mother appeared in front of me in the labyrinth and laid her hands on my body.

  After that I remember no more. When I awoke I saw that Mother had carried me out of the labyrinth. The torchlight flickered around us and the moon was back to being a little lamp up in the heavens. Mother’s concerned face was hovering above mine.

  In the corner of my eyes I could see slicks of darkness sliding around, and on them rode the voice of the Crone, wordlessly whispering.

  I DID NOT JOIN IN WITH THE CELEBRATION feast in the Moon yard. I lay in bed in the dormitory trying to forget what I had seen and heard. I tried to sleep. I must have drifted off around dawn because I was woken up at midday by Sister O.

  “Mother wants to talk to you. Do you feel strong enough yet?”

&nb
sp; She gave me a piece of bread to eat and watched while I got dressed. My movements were slow. I did not want to talk to Mother. I did not want to answer any questions. I did not want to think about what had happened. But I could not say no to a direct summons from Mother herself. So I followed Sister O across the central courtyard and up Moon Steps. It had never felt as long a way as it did that day. The sun was shining in the bright-blue spring sky, the sound of junior novices playing came from the Knowledge yard and I could see the goat kids frolicking gleefully up on the mountainside. The smell of the Crone’s breath still lingered in my nostrils. Her voice mumbled in every sharp-edged shadow. I walked as closely behind Sister O as possible. The Crone could not take me if I was not alone.

  Though I knew that if she wanted something, she would get it in the end.

  Moon House is a low grey building with the Moon yard beside it. The house is built of stone, like all houses on the island, and its back wall is formed by the mountain itself. The door is made entirely of metal. The surface might have been clean once, but it has accumulated dents and scratches since, which look like the result of many blows. It smells rancid. I had only ever been through it once before, when I arrived and was brought to Mother for the first time.

  Mother was sitting behind her large desk, waiting for me. The sharp wind up on the mountainside made her chamber very cool. There were two doors in the room: one into the cell where Mother slept and another simple wooden door with iron fittings and a hefty knob. The first was ajar and I could see that it led into a naked little cell. There was a narrow, comfortable-looking bed, a desk with a lamp and a little window.

  Mother’s face was calm and expressionless, but I thought I could see a glimmer of worry in her bright eyes. I tried not to meet her gaze. I did not want her to guess the truth from my eyes. Sister O stood next to me, her back dead straight and her lips pressed tightly together. I had never seen her back straight before.

  “Maresi, what happened last night?” Mother’s voice was authoritative. She was expecting an answer.

  I looked down at the ground. I could not lie to Mother. I could only stay silent.

  “It was the Moon, was it not?” Mother’s voice softened. “She can be frightening. I understand that. The first time she spoke to me I was also afraid. Afraid of the responsibility. I understood that she had chosen me as her servant. As Mother of the Abbey I stand closest to Havva. But before I was chosen as Abbey Mother I was called by the Moon. Maybe you were thinking about a different path, Maresi, but if you have been chosen by the Moon you cannot refuse. You must become my novice.”

  I looked up. Mother had not seen the door, had not heard the Crone. I did not know what to say. It was a great honour to be invited to Moon House, but it was not right. Yes, the Moon had looked at me, but it was the Crone who spoke to me. Or were they one and the same? I glanced over at Sister O but I did not dare answer.

  Mother’s eyes impelled me to speak.

  “The Goddess… she has three aspects, has she not? The Maiden, the Mother and the Crone.” Mother nodded encouragingly, so I dared to ask my question. “What about the Moon, is she one of them?”

  Sister O sighed. “Now, Maresi. I have explained this before…” Mother raised a hand and cut her off.

  “No, Maresi. The Moon is all three. The Moon is the face of the Goddess’s unity.”

  “Then I was not called by the Moon,” I said firmly. “That much I know.”

  I could not read Mother’s expression. Was it disappointment I saw in her eyes?

  “Are you absolutely sure?”

  I nodded.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened during the dance?”

  I shook my head. I did not want to talk about it ever. I did not want even to think about it.

  Mother gestured to dismiss us. Sister O followed close on my heels and I could feel her sharp gaze on my back. Mother had accepted my answer, but I knew it would not placate Sister O.

  When we came down to the central courtyard I turned my face towards the sun. Sun, giver of life. I wanted her light and warmth to chase away the remainders of darkness inside me, but I also did not want to look Sister O in the eye. She stood next to me with her arms crossed and eventually I had no choice but to look at her.

  “Maresi. If you tell me what happened maybe I can help you.” She stretched out a hand and gave my headscarf an awkward little stroke. “You have always been able to come to me with your questions. If there is something you are wondering about or want to know…”

  I shook my head again and sealed my lips tightly. She looked at me for a long time and sighed.

  “Very well. But I am here if there is ever anything you want to talk about.”

  I watched her as she walked up the steps to the Temple yard. Sister O had never asked me for more questions before.

  * * *

  The next few days were difficult. I withdrew from the other girls because I was not willing or able to answer their questions. I stayed out in the sun as much as possible. All darkness scared me. Wherever shadows gathered I thought I could sense the door to the other realm. The realm of the Crone. Shadows seemed to be everywhere. The sun did not feel as bright as before. Everything was darker. In every gust of wind and every ocean whisper, I expected to hear the voice of the Crone.

  It seemed that my uncertainty and weakness made Jai stronger. She became assertive and started speaking to the other novices, not only me and Ennike. Maybe she had to become strong because I was weak; to have the strength to support me for a while. She never asked me any questions but she was there for me whenever the darkness closed in. Often it happened in the mornings, when the sun was low and the shadows between the houses were deep and sharp as a knife’s edge. When I least expected it the Crone’s voice would drift towards me, whispering and hissing until I quaked with fear. Jai was always by my side, and she would take me back out into the sunshine and talk to me softly and sweetly, like I did for her when she first came to us. Her voice drove the Crone’s voice away. For a while.

  I never felt safe from the Crone’s beckoning, but nights were the worst. It was then that the darkness pressed against my chest and eyes and I heard Anner’s final rasping breath over and over again. Death’s realm felt so near and my own heartbeat felt so unsteady and weak. How could I resist the will of the Crone? How could I keep myself away from her door?

  Whenever the anxiety became too much, without a word or even a sound a hand came through the darkness and touched mine. Jai. She did not take hold of my hand but let me grip hers, if I wanted. I clutched her hand hard with my thumb on her wrist and her steady pulse mixed with mine to anchor me in this world.

  With Jai’s hand in mine I could sleep at last.

  AFTER A FEW DAYS OF BRIGHT SUN my memories of darkness started to fade away and I could breathe again. I ceased to hear the Crone everywhere. I played and laughed as usual, took part in lessons and duties and went to the treasure chamber in the evenings to read. The only place where I felt uneasy was at the door to the crypt. I could feel the Crone’s power emanate from it and always ran past as fast as I could. Now I was more than happy to have Jai’s company. I was afraid of wandering around Knowledge House alone.

  One morning after lessons Ennike, Jai and I were sitting by the well in the central courtyard as the servant to the Rose came walking past. She stopped and smiled at us. I always feel shy around her. The servant to the Rose is the only sister who does not wear a headscarf, and her long copper-brown hair tumbles down her back in thick, gleaming locks. Her large eyes are dark and full of warmth and her fair skin was already covered in freckles from the strong spring sun. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

  Whoever acts as servant to the Rose gives up her own name, so I do not know what she was called before she became the Rose. It is another name for the Maiden, the part of the First Mother whose wisdom is to do with the beginning of life and the sacred powers of the female body. In many communities the Maiden is merely a representation o
f innocence, but at the Abbey we know better. All the deepest mysteries of femininity belong to the Maiden. She is the seed and the sprout. The Mother, Havva, is life and fruitfulness, and the Crone is death and destruction. The Rose walked over to us.

  “I have no novice, as you know. Could you three help me with something? I need to polish the Temple’s sacred items before the summer rites, and some helping hands would be very welcome.”

  “Naturally.” Ennike was on her feet at once. She did not seem to be as shy around the Rose as I was. Jai and I followed Ennike and the Rose up Eve Steps to the Temple of the Rose.

  The door to the Temple of the Rose is the most beautiful one on the whole island. It is a double door, as tall as three women, and made of snow-white marble, with a rose pattern inlaid in red marble. We stopped in front of the door and I ran my fingers along its smooth surface. There was not a single join to be felt.

  “Nobody does handicraft like this any more,” said the Rose.

  “I wish there were a sister who knew this art, and that she could pass her knowledge on to me and me alone,” I said, stroking the glossy surface again. The Rose smiled.

  “Sister O has told me about you, Maresi. She was certainly right.”

  I felt myself turn bright red and quickly pulled my hand away. I was not entirely sure what she meant by that, but it was not unkind.

  The Rose unlocked the doors and we stepped into the cool shade of the Temple.

  As far as I can recall I had only been in there for thanks and praise. Now the Temple was empty and quiet. The two large rose-coloured windows on the long east and west walls cast their rose-red light in beautiful patterns on the floor. In the middle of the hall is a double row of slender columns stretching up into the ceiling shadows. The Temple is completely bare; there are no benches or chairs, no tables or ornaments. The only decoration, apart from the rose windows, is the marble floor which is like a red and white woven carpet, full of hidden vines, flowers, leaves and swirls. The pattern they form almost looks like written words, and when I stare at it for long enough I feel as if at any moment I might crack the code and understand what it means. But I have not deciphered it yet.