Maresi Read online

  There is a short text just about blood, written by Garai, the one who planted Knowledge Garden. It contains a section describing which plants fortify the blood, which staunch blood flow, and which can delay a woman’s moon blood. One chapter talks about the First Mother’s blood, how it courses through the world, techniques to tap into it and the risks involved. It also says the First Mother’s blood can be made through mixing the blood of the three aspects of the Triple Goddess. That chapter is difficult and I did not understand much. Another chapter is about women’s wisdom blood and its possible uses. It explains which rituals should only be carried out by women who retain their wisdom blood. When I asked Sister O what wisdom blood was, she replied drily that the First Sisters believed moon blood had magical powers.

  One particularly ancient-looking scroll tells the story of the First Sisters’ escape from their homeland, Karenokoi, the many hardships of their journey and their eventual arrival at Menos, when their ship was hurled onto the island by a huge storm. I had heard the story many times, but this version revealed something new.

  “Here follows a written account of the events that followed the landing of the Naondel on the island of Menos with the seven sisters from Karenokoi on board. Our names are Kabira, Clarás, Garai, Estegi, Orseola, Sulani and Daera, and Iona who has been lost but who will forever be a part of us and of our strength.” I never knew there was an eighth. Iona.

  Another book was entirely about hair, which I found strange. There was a whole section on combs—which must be made of copper when they are used to invoke the wrath of the First Mother. There are lots of books about healing, some about the building work at the Abbey, and many others that were not written by the Sisters themselves. There is one about how to manipulate the world, but it is much too difficult for me to understand. There is a whole stack of books about the history of the Eastern lands. I pored through them hungrily, trying to imagine what these far-off lands and folk might look like.

  One evening, on my way to the treasure chamber, I passed by the door to the crypt in Knowledge House and realized I could read what was written on it. The writing is in the Eastern tongue and, though I had always known what it meant, it was the first time I could read it for myself: Here lie seven sisters, united in work and in love, it says. Simple but beautiful words. Then all seven names are inscribed: Kabira, Clarás, Garai, Estegi, Orseola, Sulani and Daera. At the bottom is something I had always thought was only a decorative symbol, but now I could see it was actually an embellished I. I for Iona.

  The crypt door does not look like a door. The corridor running through Knowledge House is decorated with half-columns that curve out of the walls, and the text is embossed in the space between two columns. There is no visible hinge or handle, and if you do not know what the text says, it would just look like a decoration. But it is a door and it leads down to the most sacred place on the island, where the Crone reigns. I would always hurry past the door as quickly as I could. The Crone presides over wisdom and death, and so naturally her sacred place would be the burial chamber beneath Knowledge House. Wisdom is very important to me, of course, but I have had more than enough dealings with death.

  During the hunger winter a silver door appeared in our house and stayed there day and night. No one else in my family could see it and I never told them about it. At the time I did not know what was on the other side, waiting for me with insatiable hunger, a hunger even greater than the one ravaging my body. The Crone. The door handle was shaped like a snake with eyes of black onyx, and that snake slithered and hissed through my starving delirium. The door only disappeared once the Crone had gotten what she wanted.

  She wanted a life. She wanted Anner.

  I can still feel Anner’s frail little body in my arms. How little she weighed at the end. I can hear Mother’s quiet sobs and see Father hunched over the casket he had crafted out in the shed.

  I had feared the Crone ever since and the crypt was the only place on the whole island that filled me with dread.

  Jai accompanied me every evening while I read from the ancient scrolls. Sometimes I read aloud to her and she listened with interest and asked questions.

  Jai had relaxed somewhat after that night on the beach when she had told me about her sister. She was confident enough to speak without being spoken to, at least with people she felt comfortable with like me, Ennike and Heo. We learned a few crumbs of information about her early life. Her three younger brothers were called Sorjan, Doran, and Vekret. Her mother had had several miscarriages after having Jai and gave up hope of ever giving her husband sons. After Vekret was born her father was finally satisfied and left his wife’s bed for good. The night when he moved out Jai and Unai heard their mother crying. When they asked her the next morning if she missed her husband terribly, she smiled through the tears. “No. I am happier than I have ever been.”

  We found out that Jai hated it in autumn when they had to make the preserves: the air in the kitchen was sharp with vinegar vapor and she had to dice the vegetables ever so thinly. But she did enjoy crushing her mother’s various spice blends in a mortar.

  She had never seen snow, so when Heo and I tried to explain what it was she burst out laughing for the first time since we had known her. She has a surprisingly light laugh considering how deep her voice is. “Something cold and white that falls from the sky! You do say the funniest things, Heo.”

  “Have you not seen the white snow cap on White Lady?” I asked with an exasperated smile. Jai shook her head and I understood that, as far as she was concerned, the mountain peak could just as well be covered in white flowers or stones.

  My least favorite time in spring is when we come down to Body’s Spring one morning and see Sister Kotke waiting there with a big grin. “Time for spring cleaning,” she says, clearly taking pleasure in our groans.

  Straight after breakfast all the novices gather with perpetually damp Sister Kotke in the central courtyard. Sister Kotke, Ydda, and Ranna have everything prepared: the big washing tubs, a fire in the stone pit near the well, a big iron pot of water hung above the fire.

  “You know what to do,” says Sister Kotke, and we hurry away to Novice House and Sister House to get all the bed linen we can lay our hands on, ripping off the sheets and emptying the cupboards. Then we stumble back to the central courtyard with our arms full and spread everything out on the clean-swept stone paving. Next Sister Kotke, Ydda, and Ranna go through all the sheets and cloths to decide which are acceptable, which need to be patched and repaired, and which are only good for rags. They sort it all into big piles while we deal with the water pot. As soon as the water bubbles Ennike and I carry the pot to one of the washing tubs and empty it very carefully so we do not scald ourselves with the boiling-hot water. Sister Kotke places the laundry into the tub in batches with her water-wrinkled hands before cutting in a piece of soap. Some novices stir it around with long washing paddles, which are whitened and smooth from years of use, while other novices haul more water up from the well to refill the pot.

  I think laundry is the dullest task imaginable. Usually Sister Kotke and her novices do it all themselves, but not the spring wash. When at last everything has been boiled we load it onto a wagon and pull it down to the sea. There everything is scrubbed on beach stones and, finally, rinsed in the sea. After that the laundry is hung up to dry in the sun and the sea breeze, and we can eat and rest for a bit while it dries. Once it is dry, we sit there with needle and thread to patch and mend anything that is worn and tattered. I think that might be even more boring than the washing.

  Jai and I were sitting side by side on a bench in the shade of Body’s Spring, patching tears in the freshly washed linen sheets. I thought it might do her good to talk about her sister, so I plucked up my courage.

  “Tell me about Unai,” I said, biting off a thread. “What was your sister like?”

  Jai’s hand froze for a moment, but then she continued to sew. I let out a breath I had not realized I had been holding in. I was still
worried I might frighten her away; incite the fear and horror that seized her when Heo asked about Unai before.

  “Unai was two years older than me. Like all men my father had wanted a son as his firstborn. We were a disappointment to him.” Jai turned the sheet around on her knee to continue sewing. “Unai was always a good daughter. She tried to be exactly the kind of Koho girl my father wanted: good, obedient, out of sight. She wanted to please him. And I wanted to be just like her.” She put down her sewing and looked out over the courtyard with a vacant stare. “The best part of the day was just before the men came home from the rice field. If we’d already finished our daily chores, Unai and I would sit up on the roof. Sometimes Mother joined us if she had time. Our soma was so cold that our drinking bowls sweated in the warm evening air. Soma is a very refreshing drink made of mint, sugar, and a small, sour fruit called cerre that grows wild up in the mountains. We would sit there as the sun set behind the mountains and talk and laugh while we still could. Father did not like the sound of women laughing.” She smiled faintly.

  “No, the best time was probably at night when Unai and I would crawl into the bed we shared. First we helped each other take down our hair.” She gave the back of her head a self-conscious little stroke. “Koho women wear their hair up. We could never be seen with our hair hanging loose like we do here. The higher the hair, the better. It takes a long time to take it all down at night. It is easier if you have someone to help. Then when we got into bed Unai would tell me what I had done well that day and what I could do better. At the same time she would massage my scalp, which ached from having my hair pulled so tight all day. Unai truly wanted me to be a good woman. One who followed all the traditions and was obedient and submissive so that Father could be pleased with us both. I so wanted him to be pleased with me, but only for her sake. I would do anything Unai asked me. But I could not be as submissive as she was. It seemed natural for her to bow her head and not make eye contact with Father, or any other men, and to answer, ‘Yes, Father,’ no matter what insults he threw at her. When he hit her she said it was her own fault. She was not quick enough or she had not been careful enough. I never felt that way.” Jai looked at me. “It was difficult for me to be obedient. Everything inside me was fighting against it. But I did my best for Unai’s sake. If Father was not satisfied with me, sometimes he took his anger out on her instead of me. But I could never believe it was my own fault that he resorted to the cane.” She turned to me. “Did your father hit you if you did not bring his soma quickly enough? If the food was not to his liking, or if you accidentally spilled something when you were waiting on him and your brother?”

  I shook my head. “My father would never have hit me or any of my siblings. And I have never waited on anybody.”

  Jai’s eyes grew wide. “I always thought that was how it was for everyone. Unai was convinced that our lives would be easier if we could learn to live up to Father’s expectations.” She closed her eyes, bowed her head, and swallowed hard. “She was a good daughter her whole life. It was of no use to her, in the end.” Her voice became so little that I could barely hear her. “She did not even try to get out when he laid her in the pit. She could have gotten out, could have fought back. He threw earth on her body first. Saved the head until last, so that she would meet her death with open eyes. She still did not move until the weight of earth on her chest became too much. When she could not breathe panic set in and then she tried to struggle. But it was already too late.”

  I dropped the white sheet and threw my arms tightly around Jai. I could not even begin to understand such evil, that there were places in the world where people could do such things to one another.

  “Holy Goddess,” I whispered into Jai’s hair, which smelled like soap and sun-bleached linen. “Maiden, Mother, Crone, I pray to all your aspects. Relieve this girl’s burden.” Jai straightened up, shook my arms away, and looked at me. Her brown eyes glared beneath her sharp eyebrows. “I do not need relief, Maresi. But do pray for me. Pray that I will get my revenge.”

  She was frightening me. Her pain and anger were beyond anything I could understand. I grieve for Anner too, but I have never had a desire for revenge. I looked away and bent down to pick up my sewing from the ground.

  “How did you get here?” I asked.

  “Mother.” Jai looked at the sheet on her lap, confused, as if she did not know how it had gotten there. “When she lost Unai she decided to stand up to Father for the first time in her life. She came into my room the night after they buried Unai. I was awake but I did not understand at first. She had packed up all her jewelry, and Unai’s and mine, in a bundle. She dressed me and hid the jewels under my clothes and did my hair up without saying a word. Then she led me outside to where a man was waiting with a donkey cart. I do not know how she had gotten hold of such a thing. I did not ask. ‘You are going to the Abbey,’ she said. ‘You will be safe there. I will lose another daughter, but you will be saved.’

  “We had heard about the Red Abbey in stories and songs that Mother and our aunts sang to us sometimes when the men were not around. I always thought it was a myth. It sounded so unbelievable. A place filled only with women where men were not allowed. I could not imagine how they would get by. How they would survive. I was taught that a woman is nothing without a man.

  “I do not know if Mother even believed the Abbey was anything more than a myth. But she knew that without Unai I could never live up to Father’s expectations. And someone who has killed once does not hesitate to do it again.” Jai closed her eyes. “She said nothing else. Only kissed me on the forehead and pushed me away. She did not stay to watch the cart drive away.”

  Jai opened her eyes. She looked up at the blue morning sky and straight into the sun as if to burn something clean from her eyes. “We were on the road all night and only let the donkeys rest briefly the following afternoon. The driver seemed very nervous. I think Mother paid him to drive me all the way to the sea, but he left me in the first town we came to. I do not even know what it was called. The driver was probably scared that my father might take revenge, because when we were on a little side street, all of a sudden he shooed me off the wagon and drove away without looking back. I stood on the street surrounded by strangers with no idea where I was or where to go. I was so scared, Maresi. I had never spoken to any men other than my male relatives before. I was so alone. I had always had Unai by my side.” She lowered her face to her sewing and began to stick the needle in the cloth as if at random. “It was a woman who saved me. Of the Joi folk, no less. But when she saw me standing there she told me that a woman of my class shouldn’t be seen in town alone without a male chaperone, and I started to cry. She took me into her house, which was small and modest but not dirty and unholy, as I’d been told Joi houses were. It was clean and respectable. I told her everything, because what else could I do? Even she knew about the Abbey. I’d always thought Joi folk were ignorant and did not know about anything except menial labor. She gave me some of her own clothes and dressed me like a Joi woman. When she let my hair down it was the first time anyone other than my mother or Unai had seen me with my hair undone. She told me to sew my jewelry into the hem of the chemise and I hid one ring on my body. She gave me food and board, but when I offered to pay she was offended. The next day her brother came and took me out of the town and nobody stopped me or talked to me, because what was there to see or say about a lowly Joi woman?

  “Then I started walking. Sometimes I got a ride on some farmer’s cart or a trading caravan for a little bit. I’d never walked so much in my life and my feet started bleeding, but then the skin hardened and I could walk some more. In the next town I stopped in a boarding house for Joi farmers where I rested a few days and ate my fill. But then one night I was robbed. May whoever did it die unmourned and forgotten and buried in an unmarked grave! After that the ring I’d hidden was the only thing I had. I had to walk the final stretch to the harbor city where I eventually found a sea captain willing to take me here
in exchange for the ring. I am sure the sailors would have abandoned and robbed me also, if they had not known the Abbey might pay even more when they got me here. And Mother did pay generously.”

  “Were you not hungry? Afraid?”

  Jai’s hand trembled but carried on sticking the needle in the cloth. “The whole time.”

  A deep-red dot seeped through the linen sheet under Jai’s hands. I gasped when I saw that it was not the cloth that she had put the needle in. She was stabbing at her left hand over and over again with the sharp point of the needle. When I held her hands back she hissed at me like a wounded animal.

  “You realize she is gone now, right? Maresi, she is dead. My mother is dead! Father would never have let her live.”

  At the second full moon after the awakening of the Spring Star, moon and star come into alignment and it is time for Moon Dance. It is the most important of all the rites of the Abbey. It is when we visit the First Mother in her own realm and she meets us with all three aspects: Maiden, Mother, and Crone. Moon Dance honors the First Mother and we dance for the fertility of the world and the inseparable union of life and death. Mother always explains this to us the day before the dance.

  We undressed on the beach. The night was cloudless and the moon was high in the sky, gazing down on us from amongst her starry entourage. The moon who rules the movements of water and women’s blood, the moon who gives energy to all that lives and grows, the moon who measures time and reigns over death. The moon in whose image woman was created, the Moon, the Goddess, who hears our sorrows and shares our joy.