The Red Abbey Chronicles

by Maria Turtschaninoff

  “Give me your dagger.” The fingerless man hesitated a moment before handing over his weapon. “The men have had a little reward but they will not stay calm for long, as you well know.” He turned to Mother and raised the dagger to her chin. “So I am asking one last time—where is the harlot? Where is my ungrateful daughter who ran away from home and brought shame and dishonour to our whole family?”

  “You have no daughter here,” answered Mother and raised her chin as if to meet the knife’s tip.

  Sarjan shook his head. “See now, that was not the answer I wanted to hear. But I know that the answer is somewhere inside that hag mouth of yours.” He grabbed Mother’s chin and pried open her jaws. “I only have to dig it out.” He stuck the saw-toothed dagger into her mouth and made a small movement.

  A thin trickle of blood ran out of the corner of her mouth and down her chin. I put my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. Mother stood completely still.

  “I only have to find it,” said Sarjan thoughtfully. “Where is that answer I want?” He moved the dagger again and another trickle of blood ran down the other corner of her mouth. He removed the blade and looked contentedly at its bloody edge before letting go of Mother’s chin. “Well?”

  “The First Mother is keeping her hidden and protected.” Mother’s words were muffled, and she had to swallow several times, but her voice did not falter. She was telling him the truth, but it was a truth he could not understand. She stretched out her hands to the men behind Sarjan. They stood in a tight huddle with expressionless faces.

  “Hear my words,” said Mother to them. “As long as you stay on this island you are in great danger. Do you not remember the storm? And the calm that came before? Go now, at once, and you will live.” Blood and saliva streamed down her chin as she spoke.

  Sarjan swore and smacked her in the mouth. Some of the other men were shuffling their feet nervously.

  “We’ve been here long enough,” mumbled the fingerless man. “We want our pay and to sail home now.”

  Sarjan turned around and threw his arms out in a dismissive gesture. “Did I not say that you could plunder whatever you wanted?”

  “But there’s hardly anything worth taking,” grumbled the irritated fingerless man. “Apart from a few bits of silver and gold in this temple all we’ve found is bed sheets and books and food and some animals. You said there’d be masses of silver!”

  Sarjan grabbed him by the shoulder. “You knew the deal. It is not my fault if there is nothing here.”

  A discontented murmur rippled amongst the men. They scraped their feet on the floor and clenched their tattooed fists. Their brows darkened as they sank their chins angrily towards the floor. Suddenly I came to the same realization as Sarjan: he and his family, with their fine clothes and expensive weapons, were only three, while the hired men, with plain weapons and battle scars, outnumbered them by far. Mother was turning them against him. And there was only one thing that could turn them back.

  He held his dagger with both hands.

  “You have spread enough poison,” he said, but this time his calm tone was forced. His forehead was shiny with sweat. He raised the dagger and aimed it straight at Mother’s heart with trembling hands. Mother raised her chin and met his gaze. It was clear that he was afraid of killing. Afraid of killing someone who looked him straight in the eye. But he had killed before.

  Behind Mother I saw a door appear before my eyes. The tall, narrow silver door of the Crone.

  I screamed but nobody noticed because at the same moment came the sound of another voice. A figure in white was standing in the doorway of the Temple, the light behind her illuminating her fair hair like an effulgence of glittering stars.

  “Here I am, Father.”

  All eyes turned to her. Mother took a step forward and raised her hands.

  “Jai, no!” she cried, and there was fear in her voice for the first time.

  Jai did not look at her. She looked straight at her father as if no one else existed.

  Sarjan turned his dagger to Jai. “You whore.”

  Jai stood there and said nothing.

  Sarjan handed the blood-stained dagger back to the fingerless man. “I am putting her on the ship. Take whatever you want. We sail at midday. Okret, Vinjan, keep an eye on these others.”

  He grabbed Jai roughly by the arm and pushed her out into the yard.

  The fingerless man, who must have been the captain of the ship, looked around. “You heard him. If it’s not bolted down, take it. It doesn’t look like we’re getting paid any other way.” Sarjan’s brother Okret mumbled something, but the fingerless man ignored him.

  I did not see anything else after that. I jumped down from the niche and ran. They were on their way to the goat door and I had to get there in time. I did not know what I could do to help but I did not have time to think; I had already wasted too much time, it was my fault Jai had left the crypt. I came around the side of the Temple of the Rose, leapt onto the roof of Novice House, crawled along the low roof ridge and slid down the other side. It was a long drop down to the central courtyard but I did not stop, did not let myself hesitate. As I hit the stone paving of the yard the impact knocked the wind out of me. I rolled over and lay still for a while, gasping for air.

  Maresi, whispered the Crone from the shadows. Maresi.

  Her voice roused me to my feet. I had to catch up before it was too late. My legs could still just about carry me, so I ran. Up Dawn Steps. Nobody there. The goat gate was open. I rushed through it.

  They were walking along the path only a few yards ahead of me, close to the wall that reaches hip-height and protects people from falling down the steep cliff face. Jai was in front of her father. Her bare back made her look so vulnerable: a defenceless girl. I heard him talk in an uninterrupted stream which reached me as disconnected words between my own panting breaths and heavy heartbeats.

  Shame. Defy me. Did you honestly believe. Like your sister. Whore. Unai.

  Jai stopped in her tracks. He raised his hand and smacked the back of her head hard.

  I screamed.

  Sarjan spun around. Jai was behind him. One quick movement, arms strong from Abbey work. A single push. Well aimed. The look of shock on Sarjan’s face as he toppled over the wall, just where it had been destroyed by falling stones in the storm we summoned. I leant forward and watched him fall. He bumped against the cliff face, once, twice, three times. His body landed on the rocks below but I could barely see him. Only a little bit of shiny black fabric.

  Jai did not look down. She stared at her hands in awe. Then with growing realization. She stretched them out in front of her, holding them as far away from her body as she could. I wanted to run to comfort her, but just then someone rushed past and shoved me aside. It was Vinjan. He leant over the wall and saw his uncle. He looked at Jai. She met his gaze with eyes wide and hands still outstretched in front of her.

  Vinjan did not move. Neither of them cared that I was there. I prepared myself to attack him from behind if he tried to harm Jai.

  “I will take my father with me,” he said slowly. “I will say it was a fight. That you fell from the cliff. Both of you.”

  Jai said nothing.

  “My father wants to leave this place. He won’t climb down to look.”

  “Is my mother alive?”

  Only at this point did her hands start trembling.

  “Yes,” Vinjan nodded. “He wanted… he wanted her to watch… when he punished you.”

  Jai lowered her hands and a smile spread over her face and transformed her completely. I barely recognized her. Her eyes were wild with happiness. “So now she is free. She is finally free!”

  “I will help her, if I can.”

  “Tell her that I am doing well. That I have found my place. Do you promise?”

  Vinjan nodded again.

  “Why?” With wild eyes she urged him to answer. “Why don’t you capture me? You have a weapon.” She pointed at his dagger. “Why are you he
lping me?”

  Vinjan’s shoulders tensed. His voice was so quiet I could barely hear his answer.

  “I have a secret. My father would kill me if he knew. The whole time here on this island I have been thinking: next time they might come after me.”

  “We guessed your secret,” answered Jai. He jolted in alarm and she shook her head. “Don’t worry, only the women guessed. And we never said anything. You never looked at a woman the way the other men do. We noticed.” The great joy had disappeared from her face and her expression was heavy-hearted. “It would probably be best for you to leave home as well. Leave our land. Find a safer place.”

  Then a triumphant shout came from the Abbey.

  “We’ve found where they keep their treasure! There is a secret door in the house with all the books. Hurry, we need light!”

  The crypt. They had found the crypt.

  I ran without looking back to see if anybody was following me. I ran mindlessly down the mountainside sending pebbles and stones flying. I was as loud as a herd of galloping horses but I did not care. I had left them. Jai had left them. The junior novices were alone at the mercy of the men.

  It is hard to explain what happened next. My memories are blurred and what I do remember is difficult to put into words. I will do my best. Sister O said that I cannot do any more than that. Even now as I write, my hand trembles in memory of the terror, and I hope my words are still legible.

  I found the hole in the mountainside and saw that Jai had got out by building up a pile of board stumps. When I climbed down I was surrounded by total darkness and the Crone’s whispers were all around me.

  Maresi. Give me what is mine.

  With one hand against the rock wall I started running, then fell down, then got up and carried on. My bare feet were scraping against stones and sharp edges. I could hear male voices murmuring in the distance, but they seemed impossible to reach. The passage went on and on as my breaths echoed in the darkness. I could not hear the girls.

  Finally I reached the wooden door. Candlelight was flickering on the other side. I stopped. I leant my shaking body against the rotten boards and tried to catch my breath. I was so afraid of what I might see.

  I could see the oil lamp I had left with the junior novices. It had gone out. There were no little girls sleeping around it. I could not see them anywhere. The crypt was full of men. It looked as though the whole ship’s crew were gathered there. Many of them were carrying torches and lamps. They were all moving around, the reflections of flickering flames dancing on their daggers and knives. Tattooed hands scrabbled through the bones of the dead, looking for silver, looking for gold. Only one man was standing still in the middle of them all: the fingerless captain. His shaven head was turning this way and that, following the men’s every movement. He snorted angrily with flared nostrils. Like an animal sniffing out the blood of its prey. One hand rested on the long saw-toothed dagger in his belt. I could not take my eyes off the blade’s edge. It was now dark with blood. The Rose’s blood. Mother’s blood.

  Maresi, whispered the Crone.

  “There’s no treasure here,” said the fingerless man, and spat on the floor, on the crypt’s sacred floor. “Only graves! Why did you bring us down here for nothing but bones?”

  A short, stocky man with two daggers in his belt stopped rooting around an alcove and crossed his arms. “All folk make offerings to their dead! How was I to know that this lot don’t?”

  The fingerless man ran his hand over his shaven scalp and swivelled his head one more time, running his tongue back and forth over his teeth behind closed lips. The torchlight illuminated his fair beard. He froze, then grabbed a torch from the nearest man and raised it, lighting up one of the alcoves. The corner of his mouth curled up into a grotesque smile. “We might have found a little treasure after all,” he said quietly. He stuck his long dagger into the opening.

  “Go away!!” shouted a little voice. Heo.

  There was no screaming or crying. Only that short command: Go away! My brave little ones. They were all alone when they had heard the men come. They had done the only thing they could do, which was to find a hiding place. If I had been there I could have led them out. Now they were stuck like mice in a trap. Standing pressed against the door, I could see everything clearly, despite the smoke from the torches and lamps, but I could not bring myself to move. It was all my fault. I had failed in the only thing Mother had asked me to do. My heart slowed down, as if it wanted to stop beating completely out of shame and fear.

  “We can sell these young ones for a good price. It’s easy to prepare them for the whorehouses. I know many a merchant who would gladly buy the whole lot.” The fingerless man smacked his lips and poked his dagger into the alcove. “I can begin teaching them myself, on the sail home. Girls this young are so much more submissive. More tender.”

  “Go away!” said Heo again. “The Goddess will punish you. Can’t you feel that she is already here?” The men laughed. But I could feel it. The Crone was breathing so heavily from the alcoves and the corners it was hard to believe the men could not hear her. Maresi, she whispered. My hunger. I pressed my hands over my mouth to stop myself from screaming.

  The fingerless man handed his torch over, stuck a coarse hand into the alcove and dragged Heo out. He pulled her up onto her feet in front of him, holding her skinny little arms in a tight grasp. I saw her slender neck and bare little feet. I saw his heavy hand press between her legs.

  Then I forced myself to move. By Goddess, it was difficult. I was so terrified. My shame in writing this now is just as great as my terror was then. Shame that I could not even rush forward to help Heo when I saw that she was in danger. It was a painstaking process as I slowly forced myself to crawl through the hole in the door. My legs could barely hold me up. I was still pressing my hand over my mouth. Heo was screaming now, but I was still walking as though through thick clay. I was so scared of the men’s sharp weapons. They caught sight of me, pointed their weapons at me, opened their dark mouths and bellowed. Then I saw it: the Crone’s silver door. It appeared in the stone wall to my right as if it had always been there. As vivid and real as any other door on the island. Worn around the edges. A handle polished by time. A door which divided the world into inside and outside, like all doors. Still closed, still separating our world from the realm and the hunger of the Crone.

  Maresi, whispered the Crone as I walked towards the fingerless man. Maresi, she called as he pushed Heo aside and plunged the dagger into my belly. As my blood ran down the blade, it mixed with the blood of the Rose and Mother: the first and second aspects of the Goddess. They were the beginning and I was the end. The Crone’s voice grew stronger. It filled me until I barely heard Heo’s screams. I collapsed and landed in the Crone’s shadows. While I crawled towards the door she whispered and told me her true name. I slipped and I slithered along the wet stone floor. My hands were red with my own blood. The Crone’s shadows were caressing me, pulling me in. I stretched towards the door handle but could not reach it. I had to get up. I leant against the wall with one hand pressed over my wound. Give me what belongs to me, hissed the Goddess of darkness and pain, and I obeyed her and opened her door.

  The darkness on the other side was blacker than anything in this world, so black it blinded me. I fell to my knees with my mouth full of blood, unable to see. But I could hear.

  The Crone extended her power through the door and accepted the sacrifice of those who had wandered into her crypt. One by one they hit the stone floor like rag dolls, and I heard cries, screams and the cracking of bones. They screamed in horror as soon as they realized they were facing their own deaths. Their terror filled the whole crypt. The air soured with the smell of intestines and faeces. Torches hissed as they were extinguished on the wet, bloody floor. The Crone crushed them like the vermin they were.

  My own blood was flowing between my fingers and down on the ground in front of the door, and I knew it was my blood that was holding it open. I fought against
unconsciousness and the terrible pain which was threatening to drag me down into the darkness. I had to do this final thing for my little sisters. For the Crone.

  The Crone opened her jaws and I could feel her sour breath on my cheek. She took a deep breath and sucked the men to her, one after another. They screamed as they smacked down on the stone floor, still alive. She wanted them alive and whole, she wanted their bodies and souls. She wanted no remains left to bury. Complete obliteration. I could smell them, the smell of sweat and steel and blood. Some reached for me as they tried to stop their mutilated bodies from being sucked through the door, but the men’s fingers were nothing against the power of the Crone. Once they were through the door and confronted with the silence inside, their screams were cut off abruptly.

  When it was completely quiet in the crypt I finally let myself collapse to the floor. Now it was done. Now it was only me and the Crone. Now it was my turn.

  Maresi. You belong to me. Can you see that now?

  I could not answer. My voice was gone. I lay on the threshold to her realm and knew that what she said was true. That is why I had never been called to any house. She had already marked me and chosen me in the hunger winter. I was hers.

  Come to me and you will not suffer any more, she said in a tender, maternal tone. For the Crone and the Mother and the Maiden are one, they are only different aspects of the Goddess. Come here where everything begins and ends, where everything dies and is born anew. You value knowledge more than anything. The ultimate knowledge is here. Everything you have ever wished for. Come to me.

  I knew that she had the power to force me. But she was not forcing, she was asking.

  Someone grabbed my hand, and I clung to it hard as the darkness fell.

  SOMETIMES I THINK I CHOSE THE cowardly way out. The right thing to do, the braver thing, would have been to go through the door and see what was on the other side. The Crone was offering me knowledge beyond my wildest dreams. Knowledge I will never have in this world. I am curious. More than curious, sometimes it keeps me awake at night and I physically ache with yearning. But I did not have the courage. I want to stay here in this world as long as I possibly can. I want to live amongst books and goats and wind and nadum bread. I want to grow up to see what the world has to offer me and what I have to offer the world. I am not finished with it, not yet.