Just after the anniversary of Ranulf’s departure, Gweneth came to me, wanting to be truthful with a secret that she had kept since she was just six years old. Gweneth’s announcement left me floored as I tried to comprehend what she had told me. We were inside our home. Rain was falling softly outside while thunder rumbled somewhere off in the far distance. I was chopping an assortment of root vegetables to add to the stewpot while Gweneth was mincing a variety of herbs for flavor.
“Mother,” she said in an almost hushed voice. It was the first time I had ever heard uncertainty in her voice, and it left me unsettled. “There is something that I need to tell you.” It wasn’t her words so much that caught my attention but rather, the seriousness of her tone.
“What is it, my sweet?” I stopped what I was doing and looked up to find her staring at me, hands green from the chopped herbs and her stripping knife still gripped in her hand.
“There is something that I need to talk to you about, but I fear that it might upset you.” Gweneth hesitated briefly before speaking again. She drew in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. “I want to leave the Island to become a nun.” She said, squaring her chin against what I may throw at her. Her confession reverberated deep within me, pinging off my bones like a stone skipping across water. From the moment that she was born, Gweneth had been very different from the rest of the Islanders. Her quiet, inner reflective nature was not that of the Goddess. Over time, I noticed how she had slowly begun to shun away from our celebrations, our rites, our ceremonies without explanation. The only time that she was in attendance was when I forced her to join me. I had an inkling that her faith lied elsewhere, even though I didn’t know for sure. Instantly, I wanted to blame the travelers we traded with. More and more so-called converted Christians came, preaching their gospels, telling us that we could find salvation if we turned our backs on the heathen Goddess and committed our soul to God. Anger brewed in my belly, but I fought against it. Had one of those Christians gotten ahold of her and converted her without my knowing? The Christians that were so unlike the ones that I had known. The type that preached hellfire, eternal damnation, and most of all, brought bigotry and hatred into our midst. I averted my gaze as I struggled with my thoughts, unsure of what I would say. I knew my daughter well enough to know that there was no one on this earth that could ever persuade her into anything. She was logical like her father. Always plotting things out beforehand, organized and disciplined. I turned back, studying her face and seeing the play of emotions that toyed with her features.
“Gweneth,” I said after a long, uncomfortable silence. “How could you even possibly think of doing this?” I narrowed my eyes at her, suddenly furious that she would spring this on me. “Do you know what kind of sacrifices you will be forced to make? Life there is far different than it is here. You will be stripped of your freedom.” I said, remembering life for the nuns at the Porthfoist Abbey. A hard, bitter, often harsh life where moments of joy were fleeting.
Gweneth flinched as if I had struck her. “What do you mean, ‘how can I think of doing this’?” This is my life, Mother. This is what I want to do!” Her voice grew louder with each word. “You didn’t have a problem when Ranulf ran off to the farthest corner of the earth, but you have a problem with me following what I was called to do?” Gweneth said, knowing me so well.
“Your brother follows your father’s faith. He does not prescribe to a patriarchal society where women have no worth, no value, and no voice! I do have a problem with your choice. The Christians have stolen many ways of life and many festival days from other cultures. They worship a false God and have turned the Goddess into a Virgin who gave birth to an ‘immaculate’ son! How can you honestly believe in anything so ridiculous? How could anyone with half of your sense follow and believe in a religion that has gained by robbing women of their power and telling them that to be ‘godly’ they need to be subservient to men? A so-called religion that burns and crucifies men and women for ridiculous and corrupt reasons! I know all about their cruelty! I’ve seen it. I’ve suffered because of it.” I shouted, drawing upon what I had seen and experienced. “I cannot allow you to do this. You are my daughter! You come from a long line of women that were blessed by the Goddess! We do not submit to anyone. We claim our own power as women. You cannot betray your heritage in this way!”
Gweneth’s chest rose and fell quickly. Her face had gone pure scarlet as she tried to keep her anger in check. “You have no idea what Christianity is, Mother!” She screamed, releasing her rage. “You don’t know the outside world! You’ve never spoken with one of the missionaries that come trading! You’ve never once tried to learn what they offer. The only thing that you have is a preconceived notion but no facts.” She stepped up, standing directly in front of me with her nose almost touching mine as she looked me squarely in the eye.
“What makes you think that I don’t know what their religion offers? And where do you think that I met your father? Do you think that he just came to this island and that he just left?” I snapped back, the hair on my arms rose up from anger. “I left this Island when I was younger than you. I survived for over ten years on my own. I worked and had friends in a town called Porthfoist, where there was an Abbey. A place where there was also an evil prior who tried to burn me as a witch! I barely escaped with my life, Gweneth! I came back to the Island after your father died. I wanted to give you and your brother a safe place to grow up. A place where you’d be safe from their vindictiveness and hate. When I lived beyond, it was the Christians that are always waging war against one another. I’ve seen them murder for nothing more than being a mute beggar. Granted, there are a few that were kind and friendly. As for the rest, they are savage and cruel. I saw far too much while I was with them. You cannot ruin your life like this. There is nothing on this Earth that can change my mind.”
“I know that you left when you were sixteen,” Gweneth said honestly. “I’ve heard people talking about how you lived in the outside world. However, that does not mean that you know what it means to be Christian! I do. I have been meeting Brother Henry. He’s been preparing me for when I take vows. He has told me what is expected of me, as well as what I will have to give up. You just don’t understand that this is what my soul compels me to do. I know I can take my skills that I’ve learned here and put them towards the faith. I want to serve God through the gifts that he’s given me.” Her chest puffed up with the heavy breaths she took during the pauses of her speech. “I am going to leave, and I am going to become a nun. My life will be dedicated to the service of God whether you approve or not. And there is nothing that you can do to stop me, either!” Her voice carried gale force winds. “Ranulf and Brother Henry will be escorting me to the Convent of Magdalene after the next full moon.” Gweneth spat the last of the words at me. She spun on her heel and stomped out into the full pour of rain. I ran after her, demanding that she come back, but my words fell on deaf ears.
Gweneth had been gone for two days. On the third day, Runa, Ravene’s daughter, came to my door. After inviting her in, Runa admitted that Gweneth had been sleeping at her hearth and that she would look after her until she decided to come home. “What is it that the two of you quarreled about, Aunt?” She asked me after I invited her to join me in a cup of tea.
“Gweneth is headstrong and knows nothing out of the outside world,” I said sharply. “She wants to betray her heritage and become a nun.” I continued, aware of how bitter I sounded.
Runa sat in Gweneth’s favorite chair. She listened patiently as I continued to voice my disappointment and the displeasure I felt at my daughter’s choice. “Aunt, may I speak openly?” Runa said patiently after I had exhausted all that I had kept pent up. I gave my consent and my niece started to chastise me in a gentle, yet honest way. The words that came from her mouth reminded me so much of her mother that it was painful to hear them. “Has it occurred to you that you might be putting your own wishes ahead of Gweneth’s?”
Yes, that thought
had occurred to me, but I could not understand the why behind it. “I know that I may sound selfish, but she has no idea what the world is like out there. She has no idea if they will take care of her? What if she decides she hates it? What if they are cruel to her? Can she leave if she wants to? Will they let her come back home or will she be chained to a life of servitude?” I said rapidly but Runa listened calmly as I ranted.
“I am sure that Gweneth will handle whatever is thrown at her. Look at how she was raised.” She said confidently, sounding as if she knew her cousin better than I did. “Gweneth possesses a strong mind and she is determined to do this. If I can offer you any advice, let it be this. Makeup with her and give her your blessing, even if you don’t want to. She will do what she feels compelled to do. You do not want her leaving with the two of you on bad terms. Because if you do, you risk the chance of never seeing her again.” Runa, of course, was right. I could hear her mother’s wisdom interlaced within the words that she spoke. We continued to chat over the tea, and she left with a promise to urge Gweneth to come home.
In the end, it was me who went to Gweneth. Feeling as if I had been more selfish than empathetic, and carrying great guilt because of it, I could no longer stay away. At daybreak on her fourth day from home, I woke early, dressed, and walked the distance to Runa’s residence. Runa was outside feeding the small flock of chickens that she kept when I came upon her home.
“Good morning, aunt.” She said joyfully, and I could clearly see what I had not seen when we had last met. The obvious rounding of her stomach was accentuated by the sunrise coming up behind her.
“You’re expecting?” I asked her, stepping forward through the gaggle of hens that pecked at the ground by our feet. This child would be her first. Even in the low light, I could see the joyful glow radiate from her.
“Yes. I’m due at the end of the year,” Her hand went protectively to the growing bump and slid her hand over the roundness. “I’m hoping for a boy but Bastyn wants a girl.” She smiled appreciatively. I offered up a small prayer for a safe delivery and glanced around for Gweneth. “She’s inside making oatcakes.” Runa read my mind and nodded towards the door, giving me permission to enter. I walked through the door to find Gweneth standing with her back facing me. It amazed me how much she reminded me of myself at that age.
“Gweneth,” I said stopping just over the threshold, wanting to give her the space that she needed and not crowd her. At first, she did not turn around to face me. Her body tensed temporarily at the sound of my voice, but she went on with her work.
“Hello, Mother.” She replied finally after keeping me anxiously waiting. “Why are you here?” She demanded her voice sharp and the hurt that I had caused her was very apparent with each word.
“I have come to apologize for how I have behaved,” I said with great difficulty. “I realize that I have put my own feelings ahead of yours and that I did not consider what you wanted. I have come to ask if you can forgive me. And to ask if you would come home and spend the last few days that you have with me there.”
Gweneth took in my words and thought them through. She continued to form the cakes that would be the main staple of their breakfast and then wiped her hands once the last one had taken shape. Turning around, she faced me. “I will come home later tonight. I promised Runa that I would help her here with her chores.” She told me, but I knew it was a stall tactic. Gweneth would need some time to come to grips with my apology. She was not the type to just instantly rush into my arms, filled with forgiveness. Her method was to think it through, to make sense of it, and then bury it once it had lived out its time. “Runa is expecting.” She said as I turned to go and leave her to her work. “She is hoping for a boy.”
I was half-way through the door but stopped and glanced back at her. “And I pray that she has a safe delivery.” I added and left in the way that I had come.
I spent the day at the herb sheds, showing the young ones how to make poultices and how to apply them. When I got home, the sun was just starting to set over the horizon and the smell of food cooking met my nose. Entering our home, I found Gweneth at the hearth, roasting fish while soup bubbled away in a pot beneath them.
“You’re home,” I said joyfully as I sat my basket and my shawl down just inside the door.
“I am,” Gweneth replied evenly and gave the pot a quick stir. “Thank you for this morning.” She came over to me and much to my surprise took me by my hands and held them in hers. “Runa and I spoke after you left. It means a lot to me that I have your blessing, even if you don’t agree with my decision. I promise that I know what I am doing, Ma.” A tear slipped from the corner of my eye. She hadn’t called me Ma since she was small.
“I should have never spoken against what you feel is your destiny. You must know that I only want what is best for you. I should have just accepted it and just wished you well. I shouldn’t let my experiences stop you from pursuing your dreams.” I tried to apologize again, feeling the full brunt of my guilt resurface.
“It’s over now, Mama,” Gweneth patted my hands and told me to not think of it again. “Let’s put it past us. I want my last few days here to be happy ones.”
That was all that I wished for too. Ranulf’s leaving me was difficult. Before she died, Leena often told me that I was too protective and that when my little birds decided to leave the nest, it would be more than I could bear. She was very much right, I realized. Losing their father had made me overly protective of them. But now, I knew that there was only so much I could do and for so long. They would not stay children forever and I could not watch over them and safeguard every moment of their lives. They had grown up so quickly and became strong, confident adults who knew their own minds and understood what their hearts desired. Gweneth’s leaving would be just as hard, if not more so because once she was gone, it would only be me who remained. I would have my nephew and my niece, as well as Runa’s newborn child. I would also have Ibira, Emira, and my other friends, but I would be alone for the second time in my life. The knowledge of that settled in my heart and sat like an oppressive weight but I kept my smile and savored what time I had left with my daughter.
************
Gweneth and I spent the next two weeks together, talking, sharing, and trying to remember every moment that we had left. We walked from one end of the Island to the other. With Emira’s permission, I took her across the waters to the Sacred Island where her great-grandmother had lived after her husband and son had died. The one place I refused to take her was the First Dwelling. One of the Acolytes was kind enough to take her through the forest and to the site of the most horrific moment of my life. I had only been there once since my return and I didn’t want to go back. When she returned from the short trip, Gweneth was filled with questions. Questions that Acolytes were kind enough to answer. As she listened to them with a keen, razor-sharp focus, I couldn’t help but notice unspoken questions lingering just on the edge of Gweneth’s tongue. Two days after our trip to the Isle, she approached me.
“Why didn’t you go to the First Dwelling, Mama?” Her bright eyes were filled with innocent curiosity as we upon a large rock next to the burn that trickled through the dense forest. We had been gathering herbs but had taken a moment’s break before resuming our work.
“I have no interest in going there,” I said simply, refusing to give her the full answer but not wanting to lie either.
“Yet, you must have been there. Leila mentioned something about you and the Spring Rites.” A tremor of panic shot through me. The last thing that I had intended was Gweneth finding out about my own Choosing and my time as the Huntress. As I sat there with Gweneth patiently waiting for me to speak, I realized that my taking her to the Sacred Island was to tell her once and for all why I refused to let her be Chosen and why I allowed her to refrain from participating in any of the Island’s ceremonies. Most of all, I came to realize that I wanted my daughter to know me. Every part of me, not just the one she knew from her childhood.
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“Leila was speaking about when I was chosen to be the Huntress Incarnate,” I said as I began to tell her about the most tumultuous moment of my life. Gweneth’s eyes grew wide like the moon and her mouth rounded like the cave’s entrance.
“She was right?” Gweneth said with genuine surprise. I nodded and met her eye.
“I was sixteen. Reena was the High Priestess and we all gathered at the Scrying Well to hear who the lucky two were.” I said as images from that night were tangible before me. “Reena announced that a young man named Canwyn was to be the Hunter. I remember he leapt at the chance. He was so proud to be selected, even though everyone thought the honor would go to someone else.” I paused to take a breath before I continued on. “And then Reena, chose me. Everyone was as shocked as you are now. Everyone on the Island thought that your aunt Ravene would be called, but she wasn’t. Reena chose me, even though the Goddess called for Ravene.” I said as Gweneth furrowed her brow.
“I don’t understand,” She said, visibly confused.
“Reena had a vision that the Rites would be corrupted. She saw that the Hunter was going to murdered. She saw that the one who killed him would go on to complete the ceremony but that he would do it through rape, rather than mutual copulation.” The words were bitter and acidic as they crossed my tongue. I hadn’t intended on ever speaking of this again, but I knew that telling Gweneth was the right thing to do. That it would further cement her decision to take vows but more importantly, it would bring us closer. “Everything that Reena saw came true. My Hunter was murdered. His attacker cut his heart out of his chest. His attacker used to harass Canwyn, often telling him that he carried his heart in his hand. It was that bastard’s final insult to the boy that he thought had usurped his place. That’s when he hunted me down. Our attacker raped me repeatedly in the heart of the First Dwelling. He beat me, he violated me in more ways that I can say. When it was near dawn and after suffering through the worst night of my life, somehow, I found the strength to kill my attacker. I plunged his own knife deep into his back repeatedly until he lay motionless on the ground with blood pooling all around him. That’s how I got this,” I raised the hem of my dress and showed her the scar that she knew all too well. “Leaving him there, I fought to get home and when I reached the cave, Aunt Leena was there to catch me.” My voice was shaking by the time I finished speaking. Gweneth stared at me for the length of several heartbeats.
The Island of Mists Page 40