Resurrection (Blood of the Lamb)

by Mandy Hager

  “More tricks from Lucifer,” he spat, but the villagers paid little heed as Maryam now brandished the torch and switched it on.

  “This too,” she said, “came from the Territorials’ home. And this.” She drew out a length of the finely woven rope, knowing there was nothing even vaguely comparable on Onewēre. She threw it down into the crowd, flinching at the fight that erupted as several of the villagers vied to claim it as their own.

  She pressed on, upending the bag now to produce the strange metal tins of food they had discovered in the larder of the yacht—performing a cack-handed job of opening one of them with the peculiar hinged tool Lazarus had shown her how to use. She sensed that even the chief was transfixed as she upended the tin to pour crescents of moist yellow fruit and syrup into the hands that reached up from below.

  Quickly she opened another, this time handing a tin labelled “Corned Beef Brisket” straight to the chief. He snatched it from her, sniffing it suspiciously before pinching up a little of the contents to taste. His look of puzzlement was quickly replaced by a smiling nod and he dug in again, cramming a larger portion into his mouth.

  “The Territorials have riches like this beyond your wildest dreams,” Maryam told the villagers, relieved that at last they'd stopped their jostling to listen more intently to her words. “But, trust me, they are also cruel and guard their riches with terrible weapons that can strike a man dead from great distance. The omen you saw in the skies was one of their flying machines—just pray their interest in us has been quenched and that they'll leave us be.”

  A rumble of unease was picked up by the chief, who'd now consumed the entire contents of the tin. “I told you she was dangerous! Father Joshua said the omen was a warning that Lucifer was on the loose.” He beckoned to several strong young men. “Let's hear no more of this. Seize her and take her to the Holy Father so he can punish her for her blasphemous sins once and for all.”

  Before Maryam could scramble down from the table the men burst through the ranks and surrounded her, one of them shoving her so hard from behind she stumbled forward and fell to the ground. While two others roughly grasped her arms and pinned them tight behind her back, the chief retrieved the abandoned bag and claimed it as his own.

  “Take her,” he ordered, shouting to be heard above the rekindled din.

  Her captors manhandled her through the milling villagers, ignoring the desperate pleas of Vanesse and Lesuna. But just as Maryam was despairing for her life, the six women whose daughters had just been Chosen at the Judgement blocked their path. Again a hush fell over the assembly, and one of the grieving mothers addressed the chief.

  “If this girl speaks the truth, our babies are at risk. We demand to have our children back until we know, one way or the other, if Sister Maryam's accusations are true.” A cheer burst from the crowd. “And,” she continued, raising her chin to underline her resolve, “we demand that you allow her to tell us of the cure.”

  Maryam couldn't believe it: at last others had the courage to fight! A great warmth flowed through her as, one by one, the other mothers stepped forward, insisting their children be returned and Maryam released to share the secret potion that could defeat Te Matee Iai. It felt as if all the pain and terror she'd endured finally made sense, her destiny blossoming into ripe nourishing fruit for all to share. If only Joseph and Ruth—and Lazarus—were here to experience such a tangible turning of the tide.

  Vanesse and Lesuna reappeared at her side, eyeing Maryam's captors with such venom the men slackened their grip and let her go, edging away to join their chief. He had lost the sympathy of the villagers, and he knew it, clutching Charlie's bag in one hand as he swigged on toddy with the other, clearly deciding to wipe his hands of the situation and wait until the Apostles reasserted their control.

  With the indomitable group of mothers to protect her, Maryam made her way back to the Judgement table and allowed herself to be hoisted back onto its top. At last the faces peering up at her were eager to receive her words. She told her tale of the indignities she'd suffered since she Crossed, feeling the wave of shock ripple through the congregation when she spoke of the blood-letting, of Sister Sarah's death and Rebekah's suicide, and of Father Joshua's brutal impregnation of Ruth. Only the unsettled goats made comment as she described the utter devastation of Marawa Island's people, and the cruelty she and her companions had encountered at the camp. Her gaze shifted from one gaping face to another as her story unfolded, noting how each person's concentration climaxed when she told them, step by step now, how to brew the cure. When, finally, her words ran dry, an explosion of voices broke the silence, bubbling up around her as each listener turned to his or her neighbour to discuss the news.

  “Come away quickly now while they digest it,” Vanesse said, reaching out to help Maryam leap from the table. She wrapped her arm around Maryam's shoulders like a protective cloak as she and Lesuna edged her around the side of the chapel. “Go straight back to Motirawa and wait for Brother Lazarus,” she advised. “Once word of the women's demands to release the newly Chosen reaches the Apostles’ ears, there's still a chance this goodwill will turn to bad.”

  Maryam kissed Vanesse and Lesuna in turn. “I know, she said, “and thank you. I couldn't have managed this without you.” She felt elated, as though the worst of her job was done.

  Vanesse patted Maryam's back. “You did well, little Sister. The thanks are ours to give. We will stay for the feast, and then let Lesuna rest a little before we return tomorrow to tell you what unfolds.”

  “And I am forever in your debt.” Lesuna stroked a finger down Maryam's cheek. “Your mother, Safaila, would be so very proud.”

  Big ripe tears formed in Maryam's eyes as she waved goodbye, then turned and fled off down the jungle path. The toddy could flow freely now for all she cared. The truth is out, and now Onewēre's future lies in the lap of the gods. The thought made her brush away the tears and laugh aloud as she remembered literally curling into the Buddha's hard stone lap. Compassion, generosity and truth…how she wished Aanjay was here to see His words made real. Thanks to the tugging heartstrings of the mothers on this island, her people now had a real chance of breaking free—and despite the twisted teachings of the Apostles, she truly believed that even the self-sacrificing Lamb Himself could not have wished for less.

  It was well after dark, and already high tide, when Maryam arrived back at the entrance to the cave where Windstalker was berthed. She braved the water, swimming into the vaulted grotto while the bats circled and squealed above her. At last she scrambled ashore and climbed aboard the little yacht, dripping, chilly but content. She couldn't believe how smoothly it had gone back at Kakaonimaki, considering the dangers of her plan, and couldn't wait to tell Lazarus everything that had happened. His confinement with his parents was her only real worry now. Would he still be able to get away and join her here? She needed his cool head to help her, until enough momentum had built up for the villagers to wrestle back their destinies for themselves.

  She dried herself off and curled into a nest of blankets, too tired and emotionally drained even to bother eating. With the villagers’ cheers resounding in her ears, she fell fast asleep. The next morning, sunlight filtered down through the sinkholes as she scavenged some of Lazarus's strange assortment of supplies. She sat on the bow of the yacht, watching the shimmering display of light that bounced back off the water to wash around the jagged rock formations in the cave, and eating small orange fruits straight from the opened tin. She ran over the previous day's events in her mind. There was no telling how the villagers would react now that her story was out, but she was sure there would be many already brewing up the miriki-tarai shrubs to make the cure. The thought made her feel light-headed and filled with hope: Te Matee Iai was on the run and six wee Sisters were to be rescued from that awful fate. Still, until Lazarus was safely back, her worry for him would continue to niggle like a midnight itch.

  If he returned today as promised, she figured he'd not arri
ve until at least midday, and so she set about scrubbing the interior of the yacht—her surprise gift for his homecoming. The physical activity helped to tamp down her jitters and to distract her racing mind. She washed the black blooms of mould out of the corners of the cabin and wiped away the greasy crust of salt, imagining Lazarus's excitement when he heard how well she'd coped the day before. It was still only really starting to sink in—that this terrible confrontation she'd feared for so long was over now. Others could take up the cause, leaving her at last to forge some kind of peaceful life. The possibilities suddenly seemed endless: settling in Motirawa, perhaps; or maybe, if her luck had really changed, her father might forgive her and welcome her back home. She beamed at the thought. One day soon.

  She was emptying a bucketload of dirty water over the side of the yacht when she heard something above the water's splash. Startled, she stopped and listened intently. There it was again!

  “Maryam!”

  Lazarus was back! Thank you, thank you. She ran along the exposed pathway to greet him, bursting to tell him her good news and find out what had happened on the ship.

  He was still standing outside when she broke free of the cave.

  “You're here!” she said, smiling so wide she could feel her cheeks squeeze into the space under her eyes. He looked especially pale, as if he'd not slept well, and said nothing as he held out his hands to her. She took them both, pulling him into a happy embrace. “Have you heard? It all went—”

  Before she could finish, he pressed his lips onto hers, so suddenly she almost pulled away. But there was something in the softness of his kiss, something so intangibly coy and tender that she gave herself over to it, surprised how different it felt from the hard kisses he'd forced upon her in their past—and so different, too, from Joseph's, the only other kisses she'd ever known.

  When he pulled his mouth away she felt dizzy, barely noticing as he breathed three little words into her ear. “I'm so sorry.”

  She laughed at his wounded puppy face, amazed by her eager reception of his lips. It must just be the excitement, the joy that everything had—

  A dozen burly servers emerged from the bushes and circled them.

  Holy Father in Heaven, what has Lazarus done? He must've brought them here. He must've known.

  She struck out at him, punching him so hard on his forearm that her knuckles ached. All she could do was stare into his face, open-mouthed, as one of the men seized and bound her. Lazarus would not look up from his feet. Would not meet her eyes. He simply dropped into a squat and hid his treacherous face behind his trembling hands.

  “How could you do this?” She could barely hear her own words over the furious roaring in her ears. Kissed and betrayed. So stupid. So incredibly stupid to have dropped her guard.

  Now one of the servers kicked Lazarus on his backside. “Get up. It's time we left.”

  Still not able to look at her, Lazarus stood up to have his own hands bound as well. Only when the servers had thrust them both toward the path back to the village did he finally glance into the fire of her glare.

  “Please believe me, I had no choice.”

  She didn't know what to say to him, didn't even know if his words were real. Perhaps she'd merely conjured them up in some vain attempt to explain away this inexplicable act? But she had no time to question his sincerity. All she knew now was that both she and Lazarus were being bundled along the rocky track—straight back toward the Holy City, Star of the Sea.

  For the first three-quarters of the journey the captives were kept apart. Maryam's head was bursting with outrage and fury. What a Judas! After everything they'd been through, the notion that Lazarus would expose her just as she made some headway was nothing short of unbelievable. Why encourage her to forfeit all chance of a peaceful return to Onewēre if he had no commitment to the plan himself? She just couldn't understand it—and daren't think about what now lay in store.

  When they finally traversed the mangroves and began the approach to Kakaonimaki village along the jungle track, her captors called a halt. They ordered Maryam to sit down by a large tree fern, then shackled her to its prickly trunk by a rope tethered to her ankle. Then they released her hands to allow her fruit and water. The move confused her. Why were they bothering to sustain her if she was doomed to die? It made no sense. But she was loathe to assume any hope in such an act, fearing it meant that Father Joshua needed her alive just long enough to restore his exalted position through some ritual humiliation before he took her life.

  Lazarus, too, was promptly released, but he remained free to move around and he approached her now, squatting down beside her as the guards looked on. His face had gained no colour, despite the exertion of their walk, and dark circles stood out beneath his eyes. He stared at her so intently she turned her head away.

  “Maryam, please. Let me explain.”

  Try as she might she could not contain her anger. She spun back around, annoyed to feel tears well up in her eyes. “Good job. I actually trusted you. How stupid is that?”

  “Listen. You don't understand. When word of your claims reached Father, he just went wild. He was going to send someone to kill you straight away.”

  “And I'm supposed to be thankful you've spun this out? Were you worried you wouldn't get a chance to watch?”

  Lazarus slammed his hands down on his knees. “For heaven's sake, give me some credit.”

  “Why?”

  “It's not what you think. My mother put her foot down—insisted you be brought back to tell her of the cure. She wants to know, Maryam. She really does. Father agreed to bring you back safely, and she believed him, but Mother Elizabeth told me she overheard him plotting with these men—” he swept his hand toward her captors, implicating them—“to organise a fatal “accident” somewhere along the track. The only way I could think to stop them was to insist I came along as well.”

  For a moment Maryam was silent as she processed everything he'd said, watching him peel away a jagged strip of nail from his thumb. Eventually the furious words that had been spinning around inside her head while she was walking took vent. “Good try, but there are holes as big as the cave in your charming little speech. Number one: they bound your hands as well, so obviously you've got as little leverage as me—unless, of course, that was some kind of nasty game to hide your guilt. Number two: Mother Elizabeth is as big a traitor in her dealings with me as you are. And, number three: what makes you think your presence here would stop them carrying out your father's plan? You think they'd give a care for that? And, one more thing. How stupid do you really think I am? You were the only one who knew exactly where I was hiding…”

  Lazarus sprang back up to his feet, causing the guards to halt their whispered conversation and watch closely, ready to intervene. “Okay,” he snapped. “If you want to play it that way…” He paced before her, marking off the first of the points on his gnawed index finger. “Number one: the only way Father would allow me to come was if I was bound as well. He's madder than all hell at me. I had to bribe these servers with promises of extra toddy so they'd release me now.”

  “How convenient. Perhaps I should offer them a virgin Sister so they'll set me free as well?”

  “The Lord control me…there are times I'd truly like to wring your neck.” He turned his back on her, his bony shoulders heaving as he sucked in several deep breaths.

  “Spare yourself the trouble…your father has first shot.”

  He spun back, jabbing at his middle finger. “Number two: Mother Elizabeth has had a lot of time to think. She's on your side, Maryam, I swear it. Whatever you said to her when you and Ruth fled has burnt into her heart. She remains there under sufferance, because she has no choice.”

  As he pointed to the next finger, ready, she thought, to embellish his badly concealed lies further, the guards approached. “We must get moving again,” one of them said, removing the rope from Maryam's ankle, only to rebind it around her wrists. Lazarus, however, remained free.

&nbs
p; They set off down the jungle path again, Lazarus hovering at her side. “And as for your number three…what was it? Oh yes. My mother—would you believe it?—threatened them on pain of death to bring you back alive. She told them I would testify against them if they dared to cause you harm.”

  “You're right, I don't believe it,” Maryam said. “Since when did your dear mother have any heart?”

  “Don't get me wrong,” Lazarus said. “She's sure not doing this for you. But she's a good reader of situations and, with the villagers excited and uneasy since you spoke, she's not prepared to let him kill you yet and risk making things worse.”

  “Yet?” Maryam laughed bitterly. “And worse for who?”

  “I didn't mean it like that.” His voice rose to match the heightened colour in his face. “Damn it, Maryam, stop twisting my words.”

  “Be careful what you say then…” She glanced at him sideways, thinking about how foolishly she'd compromised herself at his insistence the day before. “Words can kill.”

  They were approaching the outskirts of Kakaonimaki now, and their procession started to draw curious eyes. Many villagers stopped to mutter to each other and stare suspiciously as the group trudged past.

  Lazarus rushed in front of her, forcing her to stop, much to the disgruntlement of the guards. “One final point: there were already rumours running rife all over Motirawa that you were hiding somewhere in Te Ikawai's domain of the dead. It was only a matter of time before they flushed you out. And, as for calling you out to meet me, these servers were too scared to go into the cave—and, besides…” He lowered his voice, so only she could hear. “I didn't want them to find Windstalker. We still might need her to get away.”