Maresi

by Maria Turtschaninoff

  “Wait.” My voice was so weak I could hardly hear myself, but Jai stopped. “First tell me what happened.”

  Jai smiled one of her rare smiles. “Now I know you are on the mend. You are already asking questions.” She adjusted my blanket, but I felt so detached from my body I could barely sense where it lay over my chest. Jai saw the worry in my eyes and her smile disappeared.

  “Sister Nar has given you strong herbs to lessen the pain while your body heals itself. It is a serious, deep wound you have got in your belly. You have had a fever.” She fiddled with something on the table next to my bed. “We have been . . . We thought you would leave us.”

  I wanted to ask how long I had been lying there, but it was too many words to get out. Jai saw the question in my eyes anyway.

  “You have been here in Sister Nar’s room for three days. And she says you will have to stay awhile yet.”

  Something moved underneath my bed. A little black head popped up and squinted at me. “Maresi! You are awake!”

  “Shh, not so loud. Maresi wants some answers before Sister Nar comes.” Jai turned to me. “Heo has been sleeping on the floor by your bed the whole time.”

  “Well, I couldn’t leave you,” said Heo, and took hold of my hand. I winced, remembering how I had left her. Heo pulled her hand away at once.

  “Did that hurt?”

  I forced myself to smile. “No. Please hold. Good.”

  Heo smiled with relief and held my hand extremely carefully. I recognized the feeling of her fingers around mine.

  “You held me,” I said. My words were strained and grating. “In the crypt.”

  Heo nodded earnestly. “Yes. When the man stabbed you a huge darkness came. The girls hid in the alcove, and all the men screamed and screamed and it was terrible. You were lying on the floor and there was so much blood, Maresi. I was so scared. I held you because I was afraid you were going to die.”

  “You saved me,” I said. “You kept me here.”

  Heo said nothing and just squeezed my hand. I think she already knew she had saved my life. I believe that girl knows more than people think, in between all her chatter.

  I looked at Jai. The next question was the hardest.

  “Everyone . . . is everyone . . .”

  “Yes. Everyone is alive, Maresi. Including the Rose, though she has been wounded. There were three men guarding the Temple who did not go down into the crypt. When they heard the screams, and then when the other men never returned, my uncle and Vinjan soon led them back to the ship and they sailed away. I released the sisters and novices.”

  “Then they came down to the crypt,” said Heo, “and fetched Ismi and the others. Sister Nar dressed your wounds and we carried you here.”

  “Heo, I am sorry. I never should have—”

  “Hush, Maresi,” Heo said in a strict voice, almost like Sister O. “You did the right thing. You always did what you thought best.”

  “That is more than you could say about me,” said Jai bitterly. “I should have given myself up straight away and none of this would have happened.”

  “Well, then, you’d have sailed north by now,” said Heo.

  I looked at Jai and she nodded. “Yes, I told them what I did. About my father’s death. I could not live with such a terrible secret.”

  “No one blames her,” said Heo emphatically. “Mother says she would have done the same if she could have.”

  I wanted to ask more but the medicine started to fade, and as I came back to my body I felt such indescribable pain that I could not speak. Jai went pale and ran off to get Sister Nar, who came at once with compresses and decoctions, and I sank back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  As I gradually grew stronger I started drinking water, then eating and receiving visits. First my friends came to see me: Ennike, Dori, Toulan, and Cissil. I was even happy to see Joem. They entertained me with stories and jokes, which made my scars ache when I tried not to laugh. I had time to myself as well. Time to lie in bed and think. There was a lot to think about. A decision started forming in my head, a decision I did not want to face up to. I knew the right thing to do. But I did not know if I would be brave enough to follow it through. There were many nights when I could not sleep for the pain, and I spent the time grappling with my conscience while the moon gazed at me through the window.

  Sister Nar kept a watchful eye over me. At some point she must have decided that my health was returning, because I woke up one morning with Mother standing by my bed. Sister O was behind her, with a straight back and an unreadable expression on her face. I wanted her to sit on the edge of my bed and stroke my hair, but she stayed behind Mother.

  “Maresi. Sister Nar says that you are feeling better,” said Mother.

  I tried to sit up in bed. “Yes, much better. I do not need herbs to dull the pain anymore and I can eat liquid food.”

  “No need to get up.” She pulled a chair up to my bed and sat down. “Can you tell us what happened in the crypt?”

  “The Crone was there.” I stopped to think where to begin and Mother nodded encouragingly. “I saw her door during Moon Dance. She called to me. I recognized her door, I had seen it at home when my little sister died. The winter when we were all starving. I was scared. I thought she wanted to take me.” I shook my head. “I misunderstood. After that I was living in fear, I heard her voice everywhere, I was scared that she would come and get me. When the men came I could sense the door again. It was here on the island, it was waiting. I thought it meant I was going to die.”

  I looked to Sister O, seeking comfort, but she gazed fixedly at me with tightly pressed lips. I looked away.

  “When I heard the men shouting that they had found the crypt I thought about the little girls alone in there. I ran down through the entrance that the Crone herself had shown me. Her door was there and I knew I had to open it to satisfy her hunger. She had chosen me, not to die, but to open her realm.”

  “Did she call to you?” asked Sister O. “Did she command you to follow the men through the door?”

  I shook my head. “No. She asked me to come, but she did not command me.”

  Mother exchanged a glance with Sister O before turning back to me.

  “Maresi. You have been in the Abbey for a long time but you do not have a house. I have wondered why nobody has called you. But now I see that you have found your calling.” She leaned forward.

  Here it comes, I thought. She was going to ask me to become her novice. I knew what my answer must be, but I did not know how I could say it.

  “The Crone has vast knowledge,” she continued. “Some of which can be seen from the outside, but there is much that is hidden too. Concealed from most people. That is why her servant also works in secret.” She turned to Sister O.

  Suddenly I understood. The snake on Sister O’s door. Her affinity with books and knowledge, everything associated with the Crone. She met my gaze but still said nothing. Mother continued.

  “Sister O is not a name. It is a title, just as the servant to the Rose is a title, passed down from sister to novice. The O is the eternal circle, the snake biting its tail.” Mother drew a circle in the air with one finger and I could almost see the snake in front of me, with blank black eyes and its tail in its mouth. “Sister O serves the secrets of the Crone. Secrets that the Crone has now revealed to you.”

  My heart began to race.

  “Maresi.” Sister O’s voice was rougher than ever. Deep and raspy, like the voice of the Crone. “My mistress has called you. She has not commanded, but asked. Now I will do the same. Would you like to be my novice?”

  I burst into tears. I cried so hard my body convulsed, tears and snot ran down my face and I could barely breathe. Mother was at a loss, but Sister O came straight to my side, sat on my bed, and held me and stroked my hair.

  “There, there, little one. Do not worry. Tell us what is weighing on you, my Maresi.”

  When I could finally speak, every single word pained me even more than the wound
in my belly. I clutched Sister O tight and sobbed into her breast.

  “There is nothing I want more, Sister. It is like a dream I did not even dare think possible. To be your novice and learn everything you know, and stay in the treasure chamber and read as much as I want . . .” Sister O chuckled quietly and gave me a little squeeze. “But I have to say no. I . . .”

  The words refused to come out. She would be angry. She would be disappointed in me. I spoke as fast as I could, pouring out all the words before I could change my mind.

  “This is the dearest place to me on earth. I cannot think of anything more wonderful than spending my whole life here studying and reading and teaching. But it would not be right. Sister O, we cannot shut out the world. It affects us, even here. It would be selfish of me to stay here where I am safe, when I could use everything you have taught me to do a lot of good. The people in my homeland are ruled by superstition and ignorance. A fraction of what I have learned here could save people dying from starvation and disease. It could change how women and men see themselves and one another; it could open up a new window to the wider world. I must go home again and see what I can do for my people.”

  Sister O and Mother listened to me in silence. Then Mother leaned back in her chair. “The Crone has given you great wisdom for one so young.”

  Sister O turned to Mother almost angrily. “But her courage is entirely her own!”

  Sister O took me up to the Temple Yard yesterday morning. It was early, long before anyone was out for the sun greeting. The sun was not up yet and it smelled like the island always does on summer mornings: like rocks seeped in yesterday’s warmth, wild oregano and cypress, seaweed and dew. A koan bird flew over our heads in a purposeful straight line and gave out a single short screech. We stood side by side in silence and looked out, not over the sea but over the houses and roofs of the Abbey. Smoke was coming out of the Hearth House chimney. Sister Ers wakes up early.

  The sun’s first rays peeked over White Lady, tinging the sky and mountaintop gold. I realized I had never greeted the sun from the Temple Yard and now I never will. I will never become a sister, never stand with all the other sisters and carry out the familiar movements. I blinked a few times and turned around. Sister O laid her veiny, sunburned hand on my shoulder and turned me back to face the sun again.

  “Maresi,” she said and her voice was sterner than usual. “Look around you. This is the other side of death. Life! And this side is even stronger.” She was quiet for a moment, and we stood side by side and watched the world explode into light as the sun rose over the mountain. Sister O turned to me. “I know the sacrifice you are making. You think nobody understands, but I do.”

  I shook my head and she raised my chin so that I had to look her in the eyes. Her cheeks were wet with tears but her voice was steady. “It was a sacrifice I could not make, Maresi. I chose to stay here. I chose safety and books and knowledge. What the Crone had to offer me was too great a temptation. I turned my back on the world. But you have seen that it does not work, that the world finds you wherever you are and it is cowardly to try to hide. You are much wiser than I, little Maresi.”

  I took her hand and pressed it to my cheek. She smiled at me and wiped away her tears.

  “Always thinking of others. Your path will not be easy; you worry too much about people. That is what makes you unique. I will do everything I can to provide you with as much as possible for your journey. I have spoken to Mother.” Her smile grew wider. “You are too young to leave us yet. You must study more of everything before you can go back home. You may study anything you want. Sister Nar can teach you about herbs and healing, Sister Mareane about animal care, Mother herself about silver and numbers, Sister Loeni about the secrets of the Blood.” She chuckled when she saw my expression. “She has much to teach, Maresi.”

  I did not know what to say. It is too fantastic, too incredible. I have never heard of anyone studying everything. It will make it so much easier for me to return and realize my dream of founding a school in my green valley.

  From the central courtyard I could hear the Novice House door opening. The Abbey was coming to life and soon the sisters would stream into the Temple Yard. But Sister O still had not said the most important thing. I squeezed her fingers and my bottom lip trembled.

  Then her smile suddenly softened, and she pulled me close and held me against her bony body.

  “Maresi,” she mumbled into my headscarf. “You will become my novice. Novice to the Knowledge. To the Crone. As long as I can keep you here at the Abbey, you are my little girl.”

  I held her tight there in the Temple Yard. I am the happiest girl who ever found shelter at the Abbey. I have gained so much and I am about to gain even more.

  Now I have written down everything I can remember. I have been sitting in Sister O’s room for many days, writing with the same quill I have seen her use so many times. I am wearing the ring she gave me on my finger. A ring in the shape of a snake biting its own tail.

  Jai and Ennike have taken it in turns to bring me food, but no one else has been allowed to disturb me. It has only been me and the light drifting through the room and the scratch of the feather pen against the coarse paper. The sounds of the Abbey float in: the laughter of the junior novices, the bleating of the goats, sandal-clad feet against the stone paving, the call of seabirds. All the sounds that should be there are there. The silence that reigned when the men came to the island is merely a memory now, a memory I hope will leave me in peace when I bind it to the page.

  At night I have been sleeping dreamlessly, and I am no longer afraid of the darkness around and inside me. The Crone will not take me home. Not yet. I still fear the moment when she does, but I believe it is a fear I can get over. Sister O will help me, as will the Abbey, and all my friends here. I believe that if you live life fearlessly, with your whole heart, then in the end you cannot fear death either. They are two sides of the same thing. One day I will give myself over to the Crone, and she will reveal her mysteries to me. A small part of me thinks of that time with curiosity and maybe even anticipation. Perhaps all of me can see it that way, once the door opens again. But first I must live—live and learn and use my knowledge so the Crone can be proud of me when we meet.

  I am glad that Sister O encouraged me to write down my story. The act alone has afforded me some peace: to put pen to paper, to see my experiences take on words. It feels as if the act of writing has already turned it into a new myth, a saga, one of the many stories that surround the Abbey. I also feel that I did not truly understand what happened before I wrote it down. Now I understand it a little better, but it also feels more distant. As if it happened to someone else, someone called Maresi who opened the Crone’s door, and not me, the Abbey novice Maresi from Rovas. I cannot explain it any better than that.

  This evening Sister O and I will put my book in the treasure chamber amongst the other important tales of the Abbey. It feels strange to think of my words next to books I have read so many times, but Sister O says that that is where it belongs. It fills me with pride. My words, Maresi’s words, will live on in the Abbey library for centuries to come. These words will still be here long after I am gone. The thought makes me reel in amazement, like when I look up at a night sky strewn with stars.

  So that is the story of what happened when Jai came to the Abbey in the nineteenth year of the reign of the thirty-second Mother, when the Crone spoke to me and the women combed forth a storm. That is what happened when the island of Menos sent a warning message about the presence of unknown men, when the Rose sacrificed herself for her sisters and when I, Abbey novice Maresi from Rovas, opened the door of the Crone.

  EPILOGUE TO THE ABBEY NOVICE MARESI’S STORY

  I am once again writing at Sister O’s desk. For the past three years it has been my desk too. The quill is the same. Am I the same? Do we change so much with the passing of time that we are not the same person from one year to the next? I have just read through what I wrote after the men ca
me to the island, and it is strange to think that it was actually I who experienced it all. It feels so distant, and yet I know that what happened is an inextricable part of who I am now.

  It is time for me to go. Even writing those words is difficult, let alone thinking about what they entail. It is not as though I am unprepared. Over the past few years the whole Abbey has been dedicated to my preparation. I have had more schooling than any other novice and studied and worked as hard as I possibly could under all the sisters. I have read the Moon House secret scrolls, which only a privileged few may study. I even spent an autumn on White Lady. I cannot divulge what happened up there, but I learned what did in fact take place when I believed that birds lifted me over the wall. Of course there is plenty still to learn, there always is, but now the time is ripe.

  It was hunger that brought me to the Abbey: a lack of food. Once again I fear hunger, but this time it is a lack of knowledge that scares me. Here at the Abbey there are books. Here there are people with more to teach me. How will I satisfy my hunger without them? Mother says that there is a lot for me to learn out in the world. Things no one else can teach me and things that cannot be learned from books. I know she is right. It is hard-won knowledge. I will have to pay for it in a way that I do not yet understand. I prefer knowledge I can gather from books.

  Jai has been extremely busy since becoming Sister Nummel’s novice last summer. Three new junior novices came to the island last autumn and they all chose to be Jai’s special little protégées. Despite this, she has spent all her free time sewing the clothes I will need when I leave: tunics and trousers and headscarves. I have decided to continue dressing like an Abbey novice and not in customary Rovas attire. I will be different and conspicuous whatever I do, and I think the Abbey attire might afford me a little security. My outfit is already folded up in a bag with sprigs of dried lavender. Jai packed it herself yesterday. She says I am far too impractical to pack.