These years have been difficult, but now I feel safe in the knowledge that there are many good years to come. Good years filled with good work. I will always bear your words in mind, Sister O: I will not exclude, but unite. I will do my best to share the fruits of my work with as many people as possible. And I will pray to the First Mother, and all three of her aspects, and to the Rovasian earth, and know that everything is one and the same.
I have so much to thank you for, Sister O.
MARESI
Dearest Jai,
Spring has come. The ground is dark and bare, waiting for the renewal of growth and life. The deciduous trees have not sprouted their leaves yet but the first herbs are poking their heads out of the fertile humus.
Kárun is building an extra room at the schoolhouse. A bedroom. Our bedroom. We will live there together as soon as it is ready. We are not going to marry. There is no reason to do so, but I want to live with Kárun for the rest of my life. I could live alone, but I choose not to. Náraes has forgiven me, I think. She is helping us make preparations. She cannot get around easily, what with the baby on its way, so she spends her time sewing bedclothes and other things she thinks I need.
“But hold off on the children,” she says decisively. “You can run your school for now, I trust you on that. But having children changes everything, that’s all I’ll say.” And I will follow her advice. I brew Goddess Tongue leaves into a tea because I know that the time for motherhood has not yet come. I am young and there is much I want to do first.
And I do not doubt that I can do it, with Kárun at my side. He is the steel in my backbone. He is the rock on which I stand. He wants to help me in my work, and I am strong enough to let him do so. I am not saying it will be easy, but suddenly it is possible.
I finally feel that I have found my home, Jai. I have always been torn between Rovas and Menos, and never knew which was my real home. But now I know. Kárun is my home. Wherever he is, that is where I belong. He wants me just as I am: Maresi Enresdaughter of Rovas and Menos, who opens the door of the Crone, who walks in the footsteps of the Goddess, who tames wild animals, who causes the earth to tremble, summons wind and storm, and spreads light in the darkness. He is not afraid of me; he is not afraid to see me as I am. Everyone else believes I possess special powers, but I know the truth: he is the truly remarkable one. For he has done something so incredible that I can barely comprehend it—he has taught himself how to give and receive love. No one has shown him how to, as my parents showed me through always loving me, no matter what I did or how far away I travelled. His mother died when he was still little and his father was a callous man. But Kárun did not become callous. He learnt to see beauty and love in the world anyway. Every day he strives for the same thing: to make life a little better and easier for me, and I know that he will continue to do so when our children come. He has given me something to strive for too—to emulate him in any small way I can.
There has always been a whispering dream inside me to return to Menos, although that was never my plan. Though I have known deep down that I will never see you again, I have kept wishing that I could. But now I am growing my roots here. I am thinking of having children, Jai. Girls whom I can teach all about the Abbey. Perhaps one day they will travel there. If they do, I hope they can meet all of you. Silla is set to travel to Menos later this spring as well. She is wild but ready to learn, and the Abbey can provide all the help she needs that I am unable to give. Take good care of her! Of course, I know you will.
I promise to write and tell you how everything is going here, but it will be less often than before. I have to start again, create something new, and not constantly look backwards. Besides, my work is going to keep me very busy. We have Berla to take care of as well—Father, Akios and I share responsibility for her. Mik and Eina have become like Náraes’s own children. I mentioned that they might be able to move in with me and Kárun in the schoolhouse, but this just angered my sister.
Keep writing to me, beloved Jai, my friend. I want to know how you are. I want to work hard, and know that everyone else is working hard far away at the Abbey. I do not expect you to think of me too often, but perhaps you can send me a thought sometimes, at Moon Dance or when you are all together harvesting bloodsnails on a beautiful spring day.
You will all remain for ever in my heart.
MARESI
THE FINAL LETTER
Most Venerable Mother and dear friend,
I have always known that I would never see Sister O again in this lifetime. Your letter reached me yesterday when the first trade convoy of the year travelled through Rovas from the south. You wrote that no one could have guessed her death was imminent, but I suspect she knew. The letter you sent alongside yours, written by her hand not long before she died, mentioned nothing of her health or her death. But there was a sense of… longing. She also emphasized that the Crone still had not chosen a novice for her. There is only me. One winter night as I lay awake, I had a strong sensation that the Crone was watching me, and I now believe this was a premonition.
Yes, I will heed your call. I am coming home now. I will take Sister O’s place as servant to the Crone, until it is my turn to pass through the final door. My sons’ wives are running the school successfully with very little involvement from me. There is talk of opening a school in Kandfall as well. Berla, who has been living there for a few years now, says that the time is ripe. I have two grandchildren and a third on the way. Returning to Menos will mean I do not get to see them grow up, which is a painful prospect.
However, my work here is done. Different work awaits me. And I want to work. I do not believe I could live without work. I am not yet old, but neither am I young. If I am going to embark on a long journey, I ought to do it now.
They will miss me here, which is comforting to know. But they can manage, and that is even more comforting to know. My sons have had me for a long while; now it is time I devoted my energies to my sisters at the Abbey.
I am going to miss everybody here in Rovas, that is for certain. Maressa has become so successful that I have barely seen her in recent years. She rarely has time to return home to her little village. I have no words to express how proud I am of her. There is hardly a child in the whole of northern Rovas who cannot read, thanks to her travelling school. She spends every coin she earns on buying new books that she leaves in the villages, so the children have something to read. Maressa has a close affinity to the Goddess. She can feel and hear things few others can. Had she lived at the Abbey, she might have been novice to the Moon. Now she has no such calling, but she is doing the Goddess’s work wherever she goes and whatever she does. She has never been very interested in what I have told her of the Abbey’s beliefs, nor in the beliefs practised here in Rovas. She follows her own path, and on that path she accomplishes more than most.
Náraes is busy helping Dúlan and Hélon with their children. They have two and four now, respectively. Mik has not married and still lives with his foster parents. He is of great help to Jannarl on the farm. Hélon, my nephew, has moved into Father’s old farmstead with his family. Eina, Mik’s little sister, lives in Murik and runs a school there. She has also taken in several orphaned children, who live with her and attend her school. Náraes is incredibly proud of her.
Náraes can grow old surrounded by her children and grandchildren, with Jannarl by her side.
I heard from Akios at the end of autumn. He is in Valleria now, wholly occupied with studying their salt production. Wherever he travels he always finds new things to learn. I think he should come to Menos to teach the Abbey novices about all the things he has seen. I wonder if he could safely step ashore if we performed certain rites and offerings? Maybe I will meet him on my journey southwards to Menos. Akios seemed very happy in his letter. He is doing what he always wanted: seeing the world; being a part of the world.
I have already packed the few possessions I intend to take with me. Sister O’s ring. The pouch I sewed from the scraps that coul
d be saved from the well-worn cloak you sewed me so long ago. I have given the comb to Maressa. She needs it more than I do. There are still dangers lurking in the places she travels with her school-on-a-cart. But the Maiden holds her hand and the Crone whispers in her ear. I know that she will be all right. I do not know whether I will reach the Abbey before my letter, but I think that a trade convoy will be able to travel more quickly than I can. I want to take the opportunity to see some of the world during this one last chance I have. I believe this is to be my final journey.
I have said my farewells. I have held my beloved sons and felt my hair become wet with their tears. I have kissed the cheeks of my daughters-in-law, I have embraced Dúlan and Hélon and their children. I have caressed and kissed my grandchildren, and that was the hardest goodbye of all.
This evening I bid farewell to the three I have loved and lost. I will ride through the light spring evening to the burial grove, tether my horse to a tree and walk down into the valley. And there I will sit awhile by Mother and Father’s burial tree and thank them for making me the woman I am today, and for sending me to the Red Abbey, where I will now return and grow old. Father has been dead for many years, but I still find it hard to believe that he is no longer with us. He always felt like such a constant. But the Crone calls for us all, sooner or later. All memories of Father live on in me and all his other children and grandchildren. He is not gone.
And finally I will sit by Kárun’s tree. Kárun, my Kárun. My rock, my strength, my home. Writing his name feels like an evocation. I want to evoke him. I want to give him eternal life by letting his name live on. I did not believe I could live without him. The first year following his death was indeed almost unbearable, and the pain that cuts into me every time I think of him will probably never go away. But now two years have passed and, though I miss him, my memories of him bring more joy than sorrow. All that I am today is thanks to him. His love has carried me so far and made me so strong. Náraes once believed that love would mean the end of my work and my mission, but in reality love is what has allowed me to achieve my goals.
I thought it would be difficult to leave his burial tree, and the house that was once our home, and all the places we have been and lived and loved. But I carry it all within me. It follows me wherever I go. The day he died was the worst of my life, but I would not give up the memory of it for anything in the world.
One can live with much heavier burdens than one would ever think possible, my friend. I wish I had not had to learn this.
If Kárun were still alive, I would not travel home now. Instead of growing old surrounded by children and grandchildren, like Náraes, I will grow old together with you and Ennike and Heo.
Now I can finally tell you the truth: I have missed you all so much that sometimes I could barely breathe. I have envied every flock of birds flying south for the winter and wished that I could travel with them. This longing has not diminished with the years.
I am coming home now, Jai. I am coming home.
MARESI
Acknowledgements
Jenny Sylvin and Fårholmen, Nora Garusi and Dönsby.
Simon Lundin who helped with wintry ski journeys.
Siv Saarukka who helped with the history of early schools.
The National libraries of Finland, without which this book could not have been written.
Nene Ormes for reading and making comments.
The Secret Badger Society who brainstormed with me.
Helvetesgruppen, where I was able to let off some steam.
Malin Klingenberg, who kept an eye on me, day in day out, and kept me on an even keel.
Sara Ehnholm Hielm, who also always steered me straight.
Saara Tiuraniemi, who talked through the sticky points of the manuscript with me.
All my fantastic and talented translators.
And then a big thank you, the biggest of all, to my beloved mother, who passed away while I was working on this book. She is not Maresi’s mother; there was never any distance between us. Still, much of her appears in these pages.
THE RED ABBEY CHRONICLES
Maresi
Naondel
Maresi Red Mantle
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Copyright
Pushkin Press
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Original text copyright © by Maria Turtschaninoff, 2018
Translation copyright © A.A. Prime, 2019
Original edition published by Förlaget, 2018
English-language edition published by agreement with Maria
Turtschaninoff and Elina Ahlback Literary Agency, Helsinki, Finland
This translation first published by Pushkin Children’s Books in 2019
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ISBN 978–1–78269–215–7
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