The Red Abbey Chronicles (6 page)

“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.”

A
FTER HARVEST WEEK
A
BBEY 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 reach 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.

I spent every evening in the treasure chamber trying to decipher the most ancient books. At first I could only recognize a few words here and there, but as the moon shifted phase I understood more and more. When I came to a word I did not understand I would run across the Temple yard to Sister House and ask Sister O. She always complained about the intrusion but she would answer my questions. She is good like that, Sister O. Sister Loeni often dismissed questions with a “Not now, Maresi” or “You ask too many questions, Maresi.” Sister O might grumble and tell me to stop disturbing her, but she always gave me an answer.

There were so many exciting books to delve into. Sister O was right when she said that a lot of it was written about in newer books I had read. But it all sounds so different expressed in the ancient and
poetic Eastern language. There are more details. Besides, it is wonderful simply being able to read words written by the First Sisters themselves. I had been hearing about the First Sisters ever since I came here, the entire history of the Abbey was suffused with them. Now they were coming to life.

There is a short text just about blood, written by Garai, the one who planted Knowledge Garden. It contains a section describing which plants fortify the blood, which staunch blood flow and which can delay a woman’s moon blood. One chapter talks about the First Mother’s blood, how it courses through the world, techniques to tap into it and the risks involved. It also says the First Mother’s blood can be made through mixing the blood of the three aspects of the Triple Goddess. That chapter is difficult and I did not understand much. Another chapter is about women’s wisdom blood and its possible uses. It explains which rituals should only be carried out by women who retain their wisdom blood. When I asked Sister O what wisdom blood was, she replied drily that the First Sisters believed moon blood had magical powers.

One particularly ancient-looking scroll tells the story of the First Sisters’ escape from their homeland,
Karenokoi, the many hardships of their journey and their eventual arrival at Menos, when their ship was hurled onto the island by a huge storm. I had heard the story many times, but this version revealed something new.

“Here follows a written account of the events which followed the landing of the
Naondel
on the island of Menos with the seven sisters from Karenokoi on board. Our names are Kabira, Clarás, Garai, Estegi, Orseola, Sulani and Daera, and Iona who has been lost but who will for ever be a part of us and of our strength.” I never knew there was an eighth. Iona.

Another book was entirely about hair, which I found strange. There was a whole section on combs—which must be made of copper to invoke the wrath of the First Mother. There are lots of books about healing, some about the building work at the Abbey and many others that were not written by the Sisters themselves. There is one about how to manipulate the world, but it is much too difficult for me to understand. There is a whole stack of books about the history of the Eastern lands. I pored through them hungrily, trying to imagine what these far-off lands and folk might look like.

One evening, on my way to the treasure chamber, I passed by the door to the crypt in Knowledge House and realized I could read what was written on it. The writing is in the Eastern tongue and, though I had always known what it meant, it was the first time I could read it for myself:
Here lie seven sisters, united in work and in love
, it says. Simple but beautiful words. Then all seven names are inscribed: Kabira, Clarás, Garai, Estegi, Orseola, Sulani and Daera. At the bottom is something I had always thought was only a decorative symbol, but now I could see it was actually an embellished
I. I
for Iona.

The crypt door does not look like a door. The corridor running through Knowledge House is decorated with half-columns which curve out of the walls, and the text is embossed in the space between two columns. There is no visible hinge or handle, and if you do not know what the text says, it would just look like a decoration. But it is a door and it leads down to the most sacred place on the island, where the Crone reigns. I would always hurry past the door as quickly as I could. The Crone presides over wisdom and death, and so naturally her sacred place would be the burial chamber beneath Knowledge House. Wisdom is very important to
me, of course, but I have had more than enough dealings with death.

During the hunger winter a silver door appeared in our house and stayed there day and night. No one else in my family could see it and I never told them about it. At the time I did not know what was on the other side, waiting for me with insatiable hunger, a hunger even greater than the one ravaging my body. The Crone. The door handle was shaped like a snake with eyes of black onyx, and that snake slithered and hissed through my starving delirium. The door only disappeared once the Crone had got what she wanted.

She wanted a life. She wanted Anner.

I can still feel Anner’s frail little body in my arms. How little she weighed at the end. I can hear Mother’s quiet sobs and see Father hunched over the casket he had crafted out in the shed.

I had feared the Crone ever since and the crypt was the only place on the whole island that filled me with dread.

Jai accompanied me every evening while I read from the ancient scrolls. Sometimes I read aloud
to her and she listened with interest and asked questions.

Jai had relaxed somewhat after that night on the beach when she had told me about her sister. She was confident enough to speak without being spoken to, at least with people she felt comfortable with like me, Ennike and Heo. We learnt a few crumbs of information about her early life. Her three younger brothers were called Sorjan, Doran and Vekret. Her mother had had several miscarriages after having Jai and gave up hope of ever giving her husband sons. After Vekret was born her father was finally satisfied and left his wife’s bed for good. The night when he moved out Jai and Unai heard their mother crying all through the night. When they asked her the next morning if she missed her husband terribly, she smiled through the tears. “No. I am happier than I have ever been.”