The picture zoomed down to a sunlit meadow of wild grasses waving in the breeze. I could actually feel the wind surging past the grassland and lifting the errant strands of red hair stuck in the gritty sweat on my neck.
Then I realised I was standing on a hill looking down at the grassy meadow …
Vertigo hit my knees and I clutched the side of the pool for support. I was both in the cave and on the hill.
What the …
But I was too intrigued to look away; instead I leant closer.
I muttered, ‘Flowers …’ There were red flowers dotting the edge of the grassland.
‘What is it?’ insisted the Abbess. ‘What do you see?’
‘I don’t know …’ I didn’t. The vision was so bright, so alive, it was mesmerising, more real than the cave.
Then I heard the sound of the river. It was as though each of my senses was coming alive, one at a time. I searched for the river to my right. It ran past the hill and through the meadow.
There was a voice … a woman singing. A woman, about my age, was lounging in amongst the tall grass on the bank of the river. I couldn’t see her face, but her hair was dark, very dark, and her body language and her song was relaxed, happy. She was singing some kind of nursery song about babies and the moon and …
‘Tell me what you see,’ commanded the Abbess. Her voice sounded far away.
‘There’s a woman sitting in a field of long grass next to a river … Now she’s laughing at something in her lap.’ I focused in. ‘She’s playing with her baby …’ I squinted. ‘No, it’s not a baby.’ It looked like a puppy, but it wasn’t.
‘What is she doing?’ insisted the Abbess.
‘She’s playing with a … I think it’s a coyote cub.’
The Abbess gasped.
‘The cub just jumped out of her lap. It’s diving into the river …’ I stared, perplexed. ‘The cub is changing … transforming into a —’
Suddenly the vision of the little coyote disappeared. The Abbess had stuck her hand into the pool and stirred up the water.
Her face was very white.
The Abbess backed away as though in fear, then nodded at the pool. ‘Look again.’
I looked.
And blinked.
A great sun shone out of the pool, its light so dazzling I could barely peep at it. There were explosions rippling across its seething, molten surface; they whipped great lashes of gold out into the space beyond.
‘What is it?’ demanded the Abbess.
‘I think I’m looking up into the sun.’ That felt really strange. I was looking down … to look up.
The picture shimmered as I spoke. ‘Now the sun is … wait, I can’t quite see …’
‘Go on,’ she urged.
Everything went black.
The vertigo hit again. It felt like I’d been swept off my feet. I found my balance and straightened.
Then I saw the brown orb of a planet hanging in star-spangled space.
I sensed I was watching this planet from outer space … hanging just across from it, weightless.
My spine tingled with fear. ‘I … I …’
‘Yes?’
There was a great flash of light and I had to cover my eyes … The sun appeared over the tiny brown planet.
‘The sun is now hanging over some kind of planet,’ I said, bemused.
‘Go on.’
The sun began to … melt.
‘There’s a golden drop of … something. It’s falling from the sun onto the planet.’
It was so beautiful, so radiant …
But then the sun pulled away … I felt a great sadness as it left. As the sun retreated the little brown planet began to spin faster and faster until it became a blur of motion.
Then it stopped.
What? I looked closer. Now the planet was blue and green … It had become a blue-green orb, lightly dusted with specks of gold and holding one luminous golden spot.
I gasped. I recognised the shape of those green patches — they were continents … And the blue was the ocean. The luminous golden spot was in North America.
‘That little planet …’ I said with excitement. ‘It’s the Earth.’
I squinted. But what was that moving around it?
‘There are all these little objects circling the Earth.’ I stopped in amazement. ‘One of them is the Space Shuttle.’
‘The what?’ asked the Abbess.
My God. This was the Earth in my time.
Then suddenly the luminous golden spot began to flicker … as though on fire.
‘Oh no. Where the golden drop had fallen is turning red and grey. Now black …’
Then I saw my own hand reach out to the Earth.
‘What can you see?’ demanded the Abbess. ‘You must tell me!’
‘I’m swimming towards the Earth. I’m reaching out my hand towards the Earth … I’m trying to stop the black from spreading.’
I sniffed; I could smell burning. There was something gritty on my tongue. ‘I can taste ashes.’
The pool went completely black.
I looked up.
The Abbess had tears streaming down her face.
27
LEOCADIA’S STORY
We climbed back out in complete silence.
The Abbess led me out of the church and over to the little adobe house overlooking her vegetable garden. I guessed it was her home. She sat me down at a table on the porch and went inside. I stared at the giant cabbages and wondered what the hell had just happened. Had Mother Leocadia somehow managed to slip me a hallucinogen before I went into the cave?
She returned with a tray piled high with food and drink.
I was starving but I stared at the food with distrust.
‘Eat,’ she urged me, ‘you’re going to need it.’
But what had just happened? If the Abbess had wanted to just dispose of me, then she would’ve shot me while I was mesmerised.
Mesmerised … Maybe she’d hypnotised me?
The food smelt amazing, fresh and spicy.
My empty stomach wrenched command from my soggy brain. My clothes hung on me. I’d dropped a lot of weight in the past few days. I piled my plate high and shovelled it in; my hungry stomach sang an aria as it went down. What a change from beef jerky.
I eyed the Abbess over my plate. She was no longer upset, more determined in as steely a fashion as I’d ever seen.
Whatever that little test had really been about, the Abbess now accepted me in a way I couldn’t quite comprehend. I’d gone from a vicious killer in her eyes to a trusted ally. I got the distinct impression that she now believed I could help her rather than vice versa.
‘What’s going on here, ma’am?’ I said between mouthfuls. ‘I expected a convent full of sad pententes and, instead, I find an armed compound which is the lookout for a hidden village of women and children. How did you come to be here … in the middle of nowhere?’
‘By choice, my child; this wilderness has been our saviour.’
Hmm. That was a very different attitude to panic-stricken Santa Fe, ready to man their barricades.
‘I couldn’t live in freedom like this in Mexico. If the Inquisition knew what I was doing here they wouldn’t let the border stop them from attacking us in the middle of the night and dragging us all back to their dungeon. Just like Captain Bull will follow Coyote Jack down into Mexico until he catches him, the Grand Inquisitor of Mexico has made it his solemn duty to eradicate anyone who challenges his rigid view of God.’ She grimaced. ‘And of the rightful role of women. I moved my convent here because he had … suspicions.’
Wait a minute. ‘I thought the Bishop of Mexico sent you here to do penance?’
She studied me then decided to tell all. ‘The Bishop is my cousin … Someone complained to the Grand Inquisitor that my nuns and I were not living as holy women should. That we were too independent, too strong-willed, and that we were infecting others with our heresy.’
‘Your heresy?�
�
‘Yes! Our belief that women were not the seductive allies of the serpent in the Garden of Eden. That women are not brainless, inherently evil beings who tempt men into sin and hence must be constantly disciplined like …’ She frowned, searching for the right words. ‘… like savage imbeciles. My heresy is that I know women are the equal of any man!’
She expected an argument from me.
Instead I replied, with a raised brow, ‘That’s supposed to be heresy?’
‘To the Grand Inquisitor, yes.’
I whistled. What a load of crap just to legitimise tyranny.
‘So before the Inquisitor could sweep down on our convent, my cousin —’
I nodded. ‘So your cousin, the Bishop, sent you and your nuns away to do penance … somewhere hopefully beyond the Inquisitor’s immediate reach.’
‘Yes,’ the Abbess replied. ‘That’s what we planned.’
‘But what about all these women and children … How do they come into the picture? Those kids are too young to have come with you.’
She nodded. ‘In Mexico City my convent was famous for giving sanctuary to women who need refuge from abuse — from violent husbands, from fathers who beat them. I gave them shelter and education, skills so they could support themselves. I helped these abused women to be strong and independent in this unjust world.’ She frowned. ‘And that was what got me into trouble in the end. These women weren’t just from the poorer classes, some of them were from wealthy, powerful families. They had husbands and fathers who hated the open disgrace of a runaway wife. And they hated me for helping their defiance.’
‘So these men complained to the Grand Inquisitor.’
‘Yes … after my cousin, the Bishop, refused to do anything to help them. These men said I should be punished for interfering with their God-given right to rule their sinful women with the rod and the whip. It all came to a head when the niece of one of the richest men in Mexico City came to our convent asking for sanctuary. Her father was forcing her to marry a wealthy old man, riddled with the pox from his debauchery. The marriage was her death sentence.’
I frowned. ‘But still, ma’am, why did you choose to come here? Surely you’re in even more danger in the middle of hostile territory?’
The Abbess smiled, one full of satisfaction. ‘No, not from the native people. Before we built the convent, I rode alone into the local villages and respectfully approached their medicine makers and wise women.’
‘You’ve got guts!’
‘Maybe … more like faith.’ She nodded to herself. ‘God protected me and, in the end, the villagers decided to ask their own deities for a sign. They took me on a vision quest … they left me in the middle of the burning hot desert without food or water. They said if my God could convince the spirits of this land to sustain me, to allow me to live, then we would be permitted to stay in peace.’
‘How on earth did you survive?’
The Abbess dropped her eyes, as if the story was too personal. ‘In the middle of the desert, just when I thought I was doomed, a guide appeared. The local people say he was one of their deities — Coyote.’ She shrugged. ‘Whoever or whatever they may choose to call him, I believe he was an angel sent by God to lead me to food and water and to protect me.’
Coyote? In the cave, had I somehow seen the Abbess as a young woman with the little coyote cub she thought was an angel?
‘After that sign the local people agreed they would keep us and our secret safe.’
I stared at her. ‘But how can a nun believe in a coyote god?’
‘My child, God is great and good, and appears in whatever form we need to see. All divinity comes from the one source.’
That was very tolerant. I could see why the Inquisition thought she was so dangerous.
‘Okay, so that vision or mirage … or whatever that was I saw in the cave … was somehow connected to you being saved by this coyote deity?’
The Abbess nodded, but avoided my eyes. She was telling me a half-truth, but I didn’t really care enough to push.
‘But what about the sun and the Earth … What was that about?’
‘You have no idea?’ she said in amazement.
‘Nada.’
She gazed at me pensively. ‘You want to go to Spruce Tree Mesa, yet you know nothing about the legend?’ It was a serious question.
‘Nope.’
The Abbess bit her lip, as though reluctant to continue. ‘Then it is my duty to warn you, Mr Eriksen, that if you go there — if you continue on your quest — there is a very strong chance you will never return.’
28
THE LEGEND OF SPRUCE
TREE MESA
The Abbess took me up to the very top of the watchtower.
I nodded to myself when I saw it. Yep, the Abbess wasn’t stranded out here. Her family, possibly her cousin the Bishop, or at least someone with good contacts, was making sure she got what she needed to survive in this place.
The watchtower held a great telescope, high tech by this era’s standards, mounted on a specially moulded metal pedestal. To the east, the tower gave views over the forest and the Santa Avia Mountains, including segments of the canyon I’d just followed in; to the southwest you could see right over a great plain stretching down to the next mountain range.
The Abbess tapped the telescope with one worried finger, clearly torn. ‘If you must go to Spruce Tree Mesa … and it seems that you must … then God has willed that I render you what aid I can. But, my child, I do so with a heavy heart. I could be sending you to your death.’
Great. That’s just what I wanted to hear right now. ‘Don’t worry about me, Abbess. I’m hard to kill.’ That was my story and I was sticking to it.
She eyed me thoughtfully, then nodded. ‘Spruce Tree Mesa is in Big Sun Canyon. Did you know that?’
‘Big Sun Canyon … Is that what the final vision in the cave was about?’ I was working on the assumption that she’d somehow hypnotised me and wanted to get it all out on the table fast.
‘I’m not really sure what it meant.’ The Abbess was lying — she didn’t do it very well. ‘I only know the story the local people tell about Big Sun Canyon. How that legend and your vision all fit together …’ She shrugged. ‘I am not certain.’ She gave me a straight stare. ‘Solving that puzzle seems to be a part of your mission.’
More mystery. I wish the woman’d just bloody come clean.
But I’d had enough hocus pocus for today and I was panting to be on my way. So I settled for a dry, ‘Okay, ma’am, then just tell me what you know.’
The Abbess nodded. ‘All right, my son. But I must warn you I have never placed the sole of my foot in Big Sun Canyon … and I never will. Even the local tribes fear it. It is too dangerous for those not personally invited.’ She studied my face. ‘Have you been summoned, my child?’
‘Nope.’ No point in lying. I kept the sarcasm to a minimum. ‘I haven’t received an engraved invitation from anyone. But I’m going there regardless, so tell me.’
‘The story I was told … was that before the beginning of time the Earth lived with her mother, the Sun. The Earth, being a wild and wilful daughter, longed to have adventures and visit her elder sisters, the other planets. The night before the Earth planned to run away from home, the Sun secretly hid a great and powerful present in her daughter’s favourite sleeping blanket. The present was a drop of blood from the Sun’s own beating heart … so that she would always know where her daughter had strayed. This drop of blood contained a fragment of all the mother’s greatest powers, including the ability to both create and destroy.
‘The Earth crept out, laughing at the thought of her big adventure. She played with the other planets but eventually the Earth became tired and went to sleep. That sleep stretched into eternities. The Sun, watching at a distance, and worried about her child, wept. Out of her tears she created a guardian, the Moon, and sent him to watch over her sleeping daughter. When the sleeping Earth gave birth to her own unruly children
… humans … the Moon manifested as a great Being and came down to watch over all.’
The Abbess dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘My child, you must believe me when I say this — that great Being is still here. That Being still stands guard over the sleeping Earth … and the Sun’s powerful gift to her child, the drop of heart’s blood.’
I shot her a long look. ‘So you’re saying that Being is in Big Sun Canyon.’ I smothered a snort. That story may work on the superstitious but if that was all that was supposed to be waiting there then I’d be on my way as soon as I filled my canteens.
‘My child, Spruce Tree Mesa marks the spot where the Sun placed her drop of heart’s blood on the Earth.’ She paused. ‘And it is Coyote the Trickster that stands guard there.’
‘So that’s why everyone’s afraid of Spruce Tree Mesa — because of Coyote?’ Nothing like having a divine guard dog to keep everyone out.
The Abbess could see I was not impressed enough to be dissuaded.
She tried again. ‘The legend is that the young Coyote used rain and the soil of the mesa to make his own playmates while he stood guard. Coyote’s companions built a vast city on the mesa. They were great magicians who could use the power of the mesa to command the elements and to travel through time and space. And, from their teacher, Coyote, they learnt how to use water to shape-shift.’
‘Oh, right,’ I said. ‘They used water because Coyote was made of tears and they were made of soil and rain …’
The Abbess could see I was getting impatient.
‘My dear, you must be very careful there. I’ve been told that I was extremely lucky that Coyote chose to help me when I was lost in the desert. He is the trickster god and his ways are not those of humans. As compassionate as he was to me he can be equally ruthless with those he judges as …’ She paused, searching for the right words. ‘… as out of balance with the natural way, as potential dangers to that which he was created to guard — the sleeping Earth. I can only believe that God used this Being to save me because in some small way the extension of my life fitted in with the divine plan.’ She clutched my arm. ‘Be careful, my child, I will pray for you.’
Coyote Page 19