by Mandy Hager
For a while she continued to register the torrent of slurred abuse Lazarus pitched at his father, but soon even this gave way to a hush so ominous that the silence itself grew loud and overpowering, hissing like repressed steam inside her ears. She was defeated, entrapped by self-pity, as everything beyond the jeering turmoil in her head retreated and she lost all sense of time. She closed her eyes, only to jerk them open again as the world lurched off its axis and started spinning at alarming speed. But her eyelids drooped again, sending Maryam spiralling into a place of such nauseous confusion that all she could do was sob like a deserted baby until even this effort grew too exhausting to sustain.
Maryam shocked awake, her head pounding as if it had been rent in two. She forced herself to focus, and spied Lazarus still bound and comatose in the chair beyond. His cheeks were flushed, his mouth open, slightly awry, as a small puddle of saliva pooled on his shirt, but the sight of him cheered her all the same. At least she was not alone with his monster of a father. She had no idea how long she'd slept. The light pouring in through the doors that led out to the deck had softened only slightly from its midday peak. It could only have been an hour or so at most.
It hurt to think, sharp stabbing pains assaulting her when she moved her eyes, but she scoured the room regardless, relieved to see no sign of Father Joshua or anybody else.
“Laz?”
He jolted, his tongue running between his top lip and teeth, but did not wake.
“Laz-a-rus!” She called as loud as she dared. “Wake…up.”
“Wha…what?” For a moment his eyes flicked open, and his face broke into a beatific smile as his gaze met hers. But then she lost him as the toddy once again shrouded his brain.
“So you're awake, eh?” Father Joshua appeared in the doorway of his adjoining bedroom. He was dressed in his formal uniform of white and gold. “You're tough, I'll give you that.”
He sauntered across the room, slipping around the back of Maryam's chair so she had to strain to keep him in her sight. The movement rattled her brain, slamming it, bruised and cowering, inside the cap of bone. He was leering down at her. “You could enjoy this if you allowed yourself,” he said, dropping his hands down to massage her shoulders, moving ever closer to the opening at the back of her gown.
She tried to think of a sharp retort to drive him off, but disgust and fear stampeded over conscious thought, locking her tongue in place. He was toying with her neckline now, slipping his white spidery fingers under the linen, tracking down toward her breasts.
“Gedoff!” It was the best that she could manage. If only she could think: the toddy somehow stole her ability to move the fury in her head from thought to sound. She felt so heavy, her limbs dead beneath her.
Still his hands trekked downward, roughly pinching at her nipples as she tried to writhe and break his hold.
“Don't be so impatient, my dear. Soon we shall be free to consummate our union properly as man and wife.”
She spat onto his arm, transfixed by the frothing trail of yellow-tinged saliva that stained the fabric of his jacket as it ran down to his wrist.
“Dirty little slut!” He dredged up a handful of her hair and wiped the spit away, delivering an extra root-jarring tug before he set it free.
She felt sick again, the toddy still swilling inside her, fermenting in an evil brew of drink and bile. She didn't know how to stop him as he unhooked the button at the back of her neck and drew the gown down over her shoulders, baring them as he leaned in and started kissing her neck with his thin old-man's lips. He stank of sweat, as though he'd not washed for weeks despite his pristine clothes.
“Get away from her!” Mother Lilith's entrance was punctuated by a bang as she slammed the door shut behind her. She locked it, putting the key into her pocket with one hand while, in the other, she pointed something glinting and metallic at Father Joshua's chest.
Lazarus, roused by the noise, spoke up in a drunken slur. “S’that Captain Saul's gun?”
Father Joshua raised his hands, manoeuvring around until Maryam sat trapped between the two. “For heaven's sake, woman, put that thing down before you do some harm.”
Mother Lilith waved the gun toward the desk. “Sit down, or Lord help me I'll use this thing.”
A drip of saliva landed on Maryam's chest and she realised her mouth was hanging open. A gun? What was going on? She couldn't make sense of it; her brain was too foggy and her shock to great to take it all in. All she could do was watch as Father Joshua crossed the room and lowered himself onto the chair behind the desk, never for a moment taking his gaze from Mother Lilith's face.
“There's really no need for this, darling—”
Mother Lilith stepped into the middle of the room, using both hands to aim the gun directly at her husband's head. “I've had enough humiliation to last a lifetime, thanks to you. I'll not sit by and watch you make a fool of me again with this piece of…of…detritus.” She swung the gun around to Maryam, who cowered as Mother Lilith aimed the barrel right at her. But, thankfully, Mother Lilith now turned it back on Father Joshua.
“I've kept you alive for years, for goodness’ sake—without me you'd be sitting up there with the Lord.”
“And I'm grateful for your expert care, Lilith, I really am. But you should know my indiscretions are recreation, little more.” For all that he kept his voice on an even keel, his eyes were darting around in their sockets, as though he sought some means of quick escape. “And this time, it's all about damage control—the girl means nothing. Nothing. In fact, why not do us all a favour and shoot her now.”
“You lying, scheming—” The rest of Lazarus's sentence was lost in a flurry of indecipherable words. He jerked forward in his chair, his drugged eyes imploring his mother. “Just leddus go, Mother, an’ I swear we'll leave.”
“Not a chance,” Mother Lilith responded. “Neither of you might care about our dynasty, but I refuse to let it fail.” She perched herself on the arm of a vacant chair, not for one moment dropping her guard. “Now, Joshua, you listen to me and listen well. You've grandly promised our people a marriage, so a marriage they shall have. What could be more gracious than announcing that you're welcoming the revelations of our Blessed Sister here by marrying her to your only heir.”
Father Joshua snorted. “That's preposterous! What could that possibly achieve?”
“I'm up for it,” blurted Lazarus. “Suits me jus’ fine.”
Now it dawned on Maryam what Mother Lilith meant. She shook her head. Why would she suggest such a thing?
“For a start it will dampen down the villagers’ calls to reward the slut, while ensuring both she and Lazarus remain under our control. But, even better than that, you will say the Lord insists that your sole heir marries a virgin, which I have no doubt the scheming little witch will claim to be—or else the villagers will lynch her of their own accord. After she's sworn her purity before the congregation, all we have to do is prove that she has lied. It's easy: once consummation is completed, the father of the groom must inspect the sheets for blood. No blood and she is proved to be a liar—and then they'll buy the line that she is lying about everything else. Then you get your chance to play with her. Then you have no choice but put the lying whore to death.”
Maryam tried to make sense of Mother Lilith's words, but the toddy mired her thinking—all she could comprehend was that one last word. It tolled inside her brain until it drowned all other rational thought.
“What makes you so confident she's not a virgin?” Father Joshua asked.
This Maryam understood. How dare they? She opened her mouth to speak, but Mother Lilith got in first.
“You forget that I examine every Sister when they Cross. The speculum does an ample job…”
Speculum? What does she mean? Maryam cast her mind back, straining to dredge up memories of her Crossing. She remembered the ceremony, where Father Joshua stripped her bare. And how the toddy knocked her out. But then…but then…Suddenly the image blossomed in her
brain: Mother Lilith descending on her with that awful metal device…drawing up her knees before she plunged it in…The pain. The total humiliation…The stain of blood upon the bed…May Mother Lilith rot in Hell.
But Father Joshua was laughing now. “I have to give you credit, darling, it's not a bad idea…The only trouble is, I've already told the Apostles—”
“And I've already made my new plans known. They are preparing the maneaba at Kakaonimaki as we speak, while others are busy spreading the word. You either play along with this, Joshua, or I swear I'll end your dallying once and for all.” She fiddled with a mechanism on the gun, making it click loudly as she angled it to fire at his crotch. “You have all of five seconds to make your choice. One…two…three…”
“Wait!” Father Joshua rose from his chair. “No need for threats, Lilith. It's an excellent plan. I'm at your sole command.”
“Just know I won't relinquish this gun, husband, until you see this through. One step wrong and it's all over…”
Father Joshua rounded the table, his face lit by a teasing smile. “Do you know how absolutely divine you look when you are riled?” He stepped across the short divide between them, his hands still raised above his head, until only the space taken by the gun kept him from her. He leaned toward her, allowing the weapon to press against his chest as he kissed her on the lips. She dropped her arm, removing the threat, and wrapped herself around him to return the kiss.
“You two disgust me!” Lazarus shouted, his cheeks slashed with red. “I hate you both!”
They turned to him in unison, their faces matched in callous disregard for his torment. Mother Lilith swung the gun toward Maryam as she addressed him. “One move, dear son—one word out of place—and I'll shoot your little girlfriend here right in the head. Do you understand?”
“You make me sick.”
“Sick or not, you'd better learn to keep your mouth in check.” Mother Lilith returned her attention to Father Joshua, straightening the collar of his shirt. “Come. We are expected in the village. Brother Luke and Brother Paul can escort the happy bride and groom.”
“Indeed.” Father Joshua kissed her pale cheek. “There's nothing like a good wedding to capture people's hearts.” They moved off toward the door now, arm in arm, Mother Lilith tucking the gun into the waistband of her skirt. “Have you ordered plenty of toddy?” he asked.
Mother Lilith laughed. “Enough to keep them drunk and orderly for weeks!”
They swept from the room.
Maryam was dumbfounded. She turned to Lazarus, who was watching her with mournful eyes.
“I never should've brought you back,” he said, his voice still slurred.
“It's not your fault.”
There was too much going on, too much blurring at the edges of her thoughts, to bother saying more. If she'd still had faith, she supposed she'd ask for miraculous intervention right about now. But, even in her confused state, she knew this had as much chance as praying for Joseph's immediate return. Joseph. The thought of him still brought tears to her eyes. Yet even he couldn't have prevented this. The only one to blame is me.
Now the same burly server who had bound them returned with another to release her and Lazarus from the chairs. With practised efficiency, they tied their prisoners’ hands tightly behind their backs before releasing Lazarus's ankles so that he could walk. There was no hope of breaking free: both men fingered sharp bone-handled knives to make it clear that any attempt to escape would be met by pain.
The older man, Brother Luke, draped the filmy veil back over Maryam's face and pushed her forward, leaving Lazarus and Brother Paul to stagger on behind. She could still feel the impact of the toddy on her legs, as though she'd just stepped off the yacht after three weeks at sea. Everything seemed to shift beneath her feet, and any sudden movement sent sickening waves right through her. The diffused images caused by the veil were her one reprieve: while people around them whispered and tittered as she and Lazarus were frog-marched past, she was saved from having to meet them in the eye.
Not so for Lazarus, who took each sideways glance as a personal affront and let each watcher know exactly what he thought. By the time they had descended through the bustling atrium, his guard had bared his knife and held it, tip to the small of Lazarus's back, to hush him up.
They were led down another of the interminable musty corridors, before being lowered to the causeway far below. A steady stream of Apostles and servers were also heading landward, making their way toward the maneaba in the village beyond. The causeway bucked and heaved under their combined weight, and Maryam lost her balance several times. Only Brother Luke's vice-like grip prevented her from falling. Around her, the sea seemed to whisper its discontent, slopping up against the bamboo slats as an off-shore breeze plastered her veil to her face, moulding on a whole new layer of pure white skin.
When at last they stepped back onto land, they found Kakaonimaki bursting with people from all over the island, just as it was each Judgement time. Everywhere buzzed with a frenzied air of excitement. Many of the villagers who stopped to let Maryam's party jostle through called out congratulations, as if this preposterous marriage were a source of joy. But their elation only added to Maryam's swirling sense of doom: she was walking into a trap, and knew it. Her only consolation was that she'd shared the cure before they took her life.
As she approached the huge pandanus-thatched maneaba next to the chapel, Maryam stumbled, overcome. Her father, Natau, was there, supported on rough wooden crutches beside a worried-looking Vanesse and Lesuna, and the mute old woman Umatu. Has he forgiven me at last and come to take me home? Her heart swelled to see him, inflating with such hope it seemed to consume all other space inside her. She was rocked by a great sweaty bout of nausea. Unable to draw the veil aside because her hands were tied, she could do nothing to reduce the splatter as she vomited frothy toddy-stained bile right at her father's feet. He flung himself backward, disgust pinching his face before he turned and limped away.
Tears streamed from Maryam's eyes to mix with strings of mucus running from her nose. Vanesse side-stepped the pool of vomit and rushed over to whip off the obstructive veil, bunching up the hem of her gown so she could wipe the sticky mess from Maryam's face.
“Why has he left?” Maryam sobbed. “Can't he see I need his help?”
Vanesse was unable to answer, for Brother Luke stepped in and ordered her away, reclaiming the reeking veil and placing it back over Maryam's head. Vanesse retreated into the crowd, anger firing in her eyes.
“Lord Bless you, Sister Maryam,” she called. “Remember we are here.”
Brother Luke prodded Maryam between her shoulder blades with the handle of his knife. “Move on.”
Lazarus had passed her by now, and was about to enter through the low doorway into the maneaba. Then Maryam saw his gaze alight on Hushai in the shifting crowd. He lunged for him, catching Brother Paul off guard just long enough to whisper something urgent in the old man's ear. But the blade was at his back again, the tip piercing the fabric of his shirt, and Lazarus stiffened, snarling as he was marched inside.
Now it was Maryam's turn to stoop between the two rough-hewn pillars to enter the cavernous building. Her head dizzied and pulsed, not helped at all by the enveloping stink of vomit. The sweeping arch of the ceiling, latticed with strong carved wooden cross-beams, amplified a storm of hammering. Four servers were fixing between the beams a raised platform designed to enclose the newly-weds above the people waiting for proof of the consummation that would confirm the match.
Once their hands had been unbound, Maryam was purposely kept separate from Lazarus so that they were unable to speak. But he stared at her incessantly, and when he caught her eye he pressed his hand over his heart. His eyes were bloodshot and he swayed slightly. Others were gathering in the maneaba now. The Blessed Sisters from the atoll filed in to take their places by the altar at the far end of the building, while the attending Apostles and their families formed several rows right
near the front. The villagers packed in behind them, until the maneaba was so full of people it could hold no more. Outside, around the low-slung openings that flanked the building, others pressed in tight, the buzz of excited voices swelling until they grew so loud they outdid the deafening chorus of Marawa Island's birds.
Although the toddy had left her drained and weak, Maryam's head slowly began to clear. Why had her father come, if not to save her? Was he seduced by word of his daughter's marriage to an Apostle, hoping it would somehow bring him extra gain? This made heart-wrenching sense. The only positive was that it proved the Territorials’ antibiotics had done their work. I have saved your life, Father, she thought, wondering why this did so little to salve her pain. What had she expected? That he would suddenly return to his senses, when he'd spurned her so completely all these years?
She tried to shift her thoughts away, and watched numbly as the servers began rigging drapes around the sleeping platform. What would happen when she and Lazarus were left up there alone? In his weakened state she had little faith in his ability for self-control.
Behind her, there was an abrupt stilling of the crowd, and the Blessed Sisters began to sing. When the Bridegroom cometh will your robes be white… The song took on new meaning, taunting and tangling with Mother Lilith's words. The speculum does an ample job… She winced, memory of the pain so real she clutched her abdomen. Now, to compound her agitation, she was prodded to her feet as Father Joshua and Mother Lilith made their way through the crowd. Father Joshua took up his place before the altar, dropping to his knees to pray in a display of faith so false and sickening she longed to scream, but Brother Luke stood beside her and still fingered the knife.