Secret Sacrament

by Sherryl Jordan

  Then Lena said a few words, her voice steady and low in the echoing dark. She leaned over the stone, kissed the tips of her fingers, then placed them against the dead man’s cheek. All the children went up to the coffin and either whispered a few words or pressed a special gift into the folds of their father’s shroud. Then it was Gabriel’s turn. Always the eldest son spoke last, then drew the shroud over the departed before the lid of the sarcophagus was forever dropped in place.

  He stood at the foot of the coffin and looked down at his father. Torchlight flickered over Jager’s face, giving the waxen skin a warm and golden sheen. Yet there had been no warmth in Jager, not that Gabriel had ever seen. As he looked at the hard mouth, firmly closed, he thought of all the times he had longed to hear words of approval or encouragement, and received only criticism. He looked at the permanent frown carved between his father’s brows and tried to forget the image of Jager in his office, annoyed at being interrupted; tried to forget the impatience, the sarcasm, the fault-finding even when Gabriel had shown him something he was proud of. Never had he made his father proud. Always there had been only a devastating struggle to please, and bitter failure. It occurred to Gabriel, with a rush of unbearable grief, that his father had never hugged him, never once given him the smallest sign of tenderness or love. Fighting down the hurt, he began speaking aloud the famous tribute paid by all firstborn sons to their dead fathers.

  “With all my heart, I honor you,” he said, his voice coming out nervous and high. He hesitated, and one of his cousins giggled. Quivering, feeling as if his throat were full of dust, Gabriel went on: “With all my heart, I shall honor all that you have . . . have left to me. I shall do my utmost to live . . . utmost to . . .”

  He stopped, unable to speak the words. How could he live out his father’s ambitions for him when he hated the whole idea of taking over the shipping business? How could he swear it, breaking the vow in his heart before his lips even spoke the words? Despairing, horrified at what he was doing but unable to help himself, he deliberately missed the greater part of the eulogy and went on with a safer bit. But the next part, filled with gratitude for a father’s love and guidance and encouragement, also stuck in his throat. So he stood there in the glimmering dark, his gaze fixed on the dead man’s face, and said nothing. People began to whisper. Lena stepped toward him, but one of his uncles spoke first.

  “Leave him, Lena. He’s not a child. He’s fourteen and the man of the family now. He can do it.”

  Gabriel bent his head. They waited. The torches spat and sizzled in the stale air, and somewhere a rat squeaked. Outside, in another world, birds sang, and the children shrieked with laughter among the tombs. At last Gabriel lifted his head. “Good-bye, Father,” he said, and abruptly bent down and drew the pale cloth over the stern face. Breaking into the shocked silence, the priest said a last prayer, then Lena gathered the youngest children about her and led them out into the sun. Gabriel followed, feeling severed from them, and shamed. As they went up into the sunlight, blinking in the sudden glare, the darkness behind them boomed as the stone lid was dropped onto the sarcophagus. With all of his being Gabriel longed to run back, to say all the things to his father he had never said; but too many people pressed from behind, and going back was impossible.

  His brother Myron, a year younger, came and walked beside him. They did not speak, but Myron walked so close their shoulders touched, and he made the secret sign they had used when they were small, to encourage one another when they were in trouble: he made a fist with his right hand, the little finger and thumb extended like the horns of a defiant bull.

  Gabriel saw the sign, and his eyes met Myron’s for a moment. But even Myron’s brotherly support could not wipe away the scandalous silence where a son’s homage should have been, or the sound of the uncles’ boots heavy on the stones behind him.

  In the house he expected the reproaches to begin the moment he got in the door. But no one spoke to him. They all went into the spacious dining room, and slaves handed out goblets of cooled wine and tiny fruit pastries. People talked in subdued tones about the heat, and there was some discussion on the rising prices of fresh fruit and vegetables, and whether or not the Shinali would sell some of their land so more market gardens could be developed. Then one of the aunts said how wonderful all the funeral orations had been, and there was an onerous silence. Feeling as if all eyes were on him, Gabriel went and stood by the open door to the courtyard and looked out. Behind him the talk resumed, and there was polite laughter at something one of the uncles said. It seemed an age he stood there, wanting to flee. Then one of his aunts called to him. He went over, trying to look nonchalant.

  “Gabriel,” she said, her fingers fluttering toward the low table with its bottles of wine and empty goblets, “it really is time the slaves started serving the funeral feast, and your mother’s not here. I don’t know where she is. Would you go and find her, dear? Some of us have a long way to travel back. If we don’t eat soon, we’ll miss out. This really is turning out to be a very disorganized day, isn’t it? Not at all your conventional funeral.”

  “I’m sorry; we don’t get much practice at funerals,” Gabriel replied. The aunt looked perturbed, and he hurried out to look for Lena.

  It was cool in the entrance hall, for the slaves had left the front doors wide open, and a breeze swept across the polished stone floors and up the long stairs. Perhaps Lena had gone to her room for a moment’s quiet. As he passed his father’s office on the way to the stairs, he heard voices and stopped. The office door was not quite closed, and he could clearly hear his mother.

  “I won’t agree to it, Egan,” she was saying, her voice raised in anger. “I’ve just lost my husband; I’m not going to lose my eldest son as well.”

  Gabriel halted just outside the door, his breath caught in his throat.

  “You won’t be losing him,” said Egan, quietly, reasonably. “You can visit him whenever you like. It’s the only way, Lena. The boy’s spoiled. If you don’t do this for him, he’ll never amount to anything. He’s already made a total disgrace of himself.”

  “No, he hasn’t! He didn’t forget those words today. He chose not to say them. He couldn’t say them and mean it. He was being honest, and even Jager wouldn’t blame him for that. You don’t know what Jager was like, always putting him down, never—”

  “Jager was a hard man, I know, but he was also fair. If he put Gabriel down, it was because the boy had already let himself down, was already a grief and a disappointment. Today’s shameful exhibition wasn’t the first. What about all the other times he failed—the times his father wanted him to study commerce and navigation at school, and he refused? Or else he failed the exams deliberately. Gabriel’s got a good brain in him—he must have, he’s Jager’s son—but he’s self-willed and defiant and aimless. What’s he going to do with his life—play around with plants and microscopes, and read books all day?”

  “He doesn’t play around. He passed exams with honors, in biology and anatomy,” said Lena. “His tutors say he’s gifted in certain—”

  “Gifted? The only gift he’s got is his inheritance, which is in grave danger of being thrown away. He’s not wasting his life on biology. He’s got a great vocation ahead of him, and he has to take it. There are twenty ships out there owned now by him, and he has to learn to manage them. There are trade centers in major ports all over the Empire, all his now. Until he’s old enough, Jager’s shipmasters will carry on, but the time’s going to come when the business has to be taken over by someone in the family. That has to be Gabriel. And if he’s not properly trained for it, he’ll throw away everything his father ever built up. I won’t stand by and watch that happen. Jager broke his heart over that boy. He often said the only disappointment in his life was his eldest son. He was going to send Gabriel to the Academy this year to study business and navigation, in a last attempt to make a decent son of him. I’ll see that wish is carried out.”

  “What about Gabriel?” cried Len
a. “What about his wishes?”

  “Has he got any?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what he wants. But I do know he doesn’t want to take over the family business.”

  “Every other lad in Navora would give anything to have what Gabriel’s got. He’s going to be grateful for it, Lena, if I have to beat it into him. If he stays here, you’ll spoil him. He’s coming to live with me, and I’ll see that he studies the right things at the Academy and is fit to inherit everything his father left to him.”

  “What about Myron? Or one of the others?”

  “Myron wants to join the army; you know that as well as I do. The others are too young; too many years lie between now and when they would be qualified. The family business goes to the eldest son, Lena. You’re not selling it.”

  “I don’t think it’s any concern of yours.”

  “Damn it, it is my concern! I loved my brother, Lena. When we were boys together, he used to say he would own a fleet of ships and travel all over the Empire to bring back riches to make Navora great. He sweated blood to make that dream reality. I won’t stand by now and watch you sell it to some greedy investor in a foreign country, who doesn’t give a damn about Navora. I won’t let you sell it because a spunkless brat cares nothing about shaming his family name and his father. If you won’t knock sense into him, I will.”

  There was silence, and Gabriel heard heavy footsteps crossing the room toward the door. He fled, taking the stairs three at a time. In his room he slammed shut the door and crouched against it, breathing hard, fighting back tears of helplessness and hate and rage.

  A long time he stayed there, dreading the sound of footsteps. But none came, and after a while he crossed the room and sat in the sun on the window seat. He reached up and removed something he wore on a leather thong about his neck. It was the Shinali amulet.

  He sat and looked at it, his body tense, his hand shaking. He still suffered guilt for not helping the Shinali woman that awful night; yet in the tranquil beauty of the bone carving that had been hers, and in the Shinali dreams that haunted him, he found a kind of forgiveness, a peace. Sunlight slanted across his palm, turning the alien bone to gold. It shone against his skin, and he could have sworn the light came from within the bone, and it was warm, warmer than the sun could make it in these moments. He closed his fingers about the carving and leaned back, his eyes shut, conscious of the sun soaking deeply into him. For a few glorious moments he forgot the discord downstairs, forgot everything but the warmth and the quiet and the indescribable calm that lay within his hand. It was a peace beyond his understanding, beyond suffering and regret and guilt; an inexplicable gift reconciling him with a woman, a people he did not know; a gift he embraced with all his soul, without knowing why.

  Images, sensations floated like half-forgotten memories in his mind: a great plain, dazzling under the sun; the scent of summer grass, heady and sweet; a sense of lying in it, his face against the sun-beaten earth, the heat soaking into his body. Wood smoke drifting across the ground, and the bleating of sheep. The inside of a house, the roof thatched with grass, and smoke rising through a central hole. And peace, peace so awesome and profound it almost had the power to wipe away his pain.

  He felt as if he were outside time, lost elsewhere in a world between reality and dream where strange memories drifted, became briefly his, and vanished again. It frightened him, yet at the same time drew him, gave him joy, made him complete. Dozing, he dreamed of a dim Navoran house; of long passages with dark, locked doors. The passages became a great maze, bewildering and frightening. Desperate, lost, he searched for a door that would open. But they all remained closed. From behind some came sounds: human voices, sails snapping in the wind, and the thunder of the sea. Despairing, he ran on. At last he came to a golden door. As he pushed it open, light flooded over him. Suspended in the brightness were things he loved: books on anatomy, the microscope his father had brought back from a far land, the faded charts illustrating the human heart and organs, and healing plants. He saw hands moving over human skin, the movements quick and sure. The fingers held a needle, were sewing up a wound. His hands? The images blurred, changed. Hands binding cloth about a wounded arm. The pungent odor of ointments, the cloth stained with the juice of leaves and roots. He had a feeling he knew what they were, knew exactly what was being done. Wood smoke again, and a knife, its blade shimmering with heat, held above a deep cut. Blood everywhere. The blade plunged deep, the smell of human flesh searing—

  With a jolt, he awoke. There were footsteps on the stairs, on the carpeted floor outside. His door burst open, and Myron came in.

  “Mother wants you,” said Myron.

  Gabriel blinked at him. “What?”

  “Mother wants you. She’s been arguing with Uncle Egan. I didn’t know she had so much spit and fire in her. All the guests have left, except for our uncles. Mother thought you’d gone with us. Uncle Egan’s been waiting for us to get back, so he can see you.”

  Gabriel glanced at the window and saw that it was sunset. He stared at Myron and noticed that his brother’s curls, long and red-gold like his own, were damp, and that he had grass stains on his white sleeves. “Where have you been?” he asked.

  “Swimming in the river, with our cousins. I came to ask you if you’d go with us, but you were asleep and I didn’t want to disturb you. Are you all right? You’ve been up here for hours. You’re not sick, are you?”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  Myron noticed the Shinali bone in Gabriel’s hand and picked it up. It was familiar to him; he had often seen Gabriel with it, and he was the only one to whom Gabriel had told the story of that awful night. Frowning now, Myron turned the carving to the day’s last light, stared at it hard for a few moments, then studied Gabriel’s face. “I’ve just noticed something,” Myron said. “This face on the bone . . . it looks like yours.”

  “Your imagination’s almost as good as mine,” said Gabriel, taking the bone back and putting it about his neck again.

  There were footsteps on the stairs, and little Subin came in. “Uncle Egan wants to see you,” she announced to Gabriel in imperious tones. “Right now. And Mama says you’ve got to get me and the others ready for bed, Myron.”

  Gabriel sighed and stood up.

  “Good luck, brother,” said Myron, and together they held up their right hands in the sign of the courageous bull.

  In the dining room, slaves were clearing away the remains of the funeral feast. Discarded cushions, bright against the polished stone floor, were still scattered about the low table. Lamplight cast a rosy glow across the half-emptied bottles of wine and the remaining goblets. Egan and three of the other uncles were at one end of the table, reclining on the cushions, talking. Lena was standing by the door to the courtyard, her back to the men, looking out at the silver-blue twilight. As Gabriel entered, she turned around. She looked remarkably cool for someone in the middle of a family dispute. Calmly she picked up two cushions and placed them at the end of the table opposite the uncles. “Sit down, Gabriel,” she said, her voice gentle. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  It was the first time she had offered him alcohol, and he nodded as he sat down, though his stomach churned. It occurred to him that he had missed his father’s funeral feast: another unpardonable offense.

  One of the slaves placed a glass of wine in front of him. It was gold-painted glass from Amaran, brought back by his father on one of his first voyages, and worth a fortune. Still half in his dreams, Gabriel had a disturbing feeling of incongruity, as if the priceless glass were out of place, and instead there should be a pottery bowl, simple and unpolished. He shook the feeling off and glanced down the table toward his uncles. They looked severe in their dark funeral clothes, their usual jewels left off today, their long hair tied back and making their faces seem more angular than ever. All were intimidating men, tall and impressive like Gabriel’s father, with the same severe look and irascible temperament. Only Egan had red hair and blue eyes, li
ke Jager’s; the rest were swarthy and brown-eyed. As Gabriel sat opposite them, he felt alienated, insignificant. He marveled that his mother, who never opposed his father, could defy these brothers and yet look poised.

  “Do you wish to explain today’s performance, Gabriel?” Egan asked, in heavy tones.

  Gabriel shook his head and sipped his wine. To his surprise, it was delicious. He gulped the lot and felt Lena touch his arm. He looked at her, and she smiled with her eyes and shook her head slightly. A slave refilled his glass, and he decided to leave it for fortification later in the battle.

  “What I can’t understand,” said Egan, “is how you could forget the most important address of your life—your homage to your dead father.”

  “I didn’t forget it,” said Gabriel.

  “Do you care to explain, son?”

  “No. And I’m not your son.”

  The uncles muttered, and Gabriel reached for his wineglass. Lena put her hand on his arm, checking him. “Answer them, dear,” she said. “They’ll never let it go otherwise.”

  “It’s none of their business,” Gabriel whispered, too loudly.

  “It is our business,” said Egan. “As Jager’s eldest brother, I’m responsible for you now. If you stay here with your mother, you’ll end up a discredit to your whole family. You need discipline. Today was the last time you’ll ever dishonor your family name and cause your mother shame. You’re coming to live with me. You’ll go to the Academy and study navigation, seamanship, and geography. When you’re eighteen, you’ll accompany me on one of your father’s ships, and start learning everything you need to know to take over the family business. By the time you’re twenty, you’ll be man enough to do it on your own. Go and pack whatever you need. We’re leaving tonight.”