The Crossing (10 page)

She slipped her hand under the table and grasped Ruth's, squeezing it reassuringly. “Wait,” she whispered, hardly daring move her lips. She could feel Ruth's confused stare but could do nothing to explain.

Now Father Joshua rose from his seat to lead them in their daily prayers before they ate. Maryam waited for him to mention Sarah's death, keen to find some simple solace in his prayer. But not a mention of the girl was made. It was as though she'd never been; as if her life counted for so little that it passed away without a word.

Anger rose in her as Father Joshua turned his attention to Ruth and greeted her as if she were a long-lost friend. Ruth glowed and turned in her chair to wave at all the diners in a cheerful greeting of her own. Friendly laughter bubbled up around her, and the warmth continued as Father Joshua welcomed Mother Elizabeth back to the fold. Mother Elizabeth caught Maryam's eye and winked at her with simple joy. And
then Father Joshua announced that Ruth would undergo the ritual welcome that afternoon.
So soon?
If she did not warn Ruth right away, there'd be no chance.

Only when the servers started passing out the food did the general babble rise to a volume Maryam felt would screen her words. Making as though she was talking of the food to Ruth as she served her, Maryam whispered, “Listen to me closely, and do not look at me or speak.”

She could feel Ruth stiffen beside her as she passed a dish of mashed taro along the row. “Things here are not exactly as they seem. Do not drink the toddy if you can avoid it, and be prepared—the welcome ritual is designed to shame you and you'll be laid bare.”

Despite her warning, Ruth turned to her at this—her eyes wide with surprise and disbelief. “I've done nothing to be ashamed of in the eyes of the Lord.”

“Look away,” Maryam hissed. But already it was far too late. From the corner of her vision she could see Mother Michal rise and walk toward them.

“You look tired, Sister Maryam. I hope your duties are not too much for you?” Her words dripped concern, yet Maryam could read the warning in her cold blue eyes.

“Thank you, Mother. I am fine.” She bowed her head, and began to eat with all the enthusiasm she could muster.

Mother Michal continued to stand before them, her head to one side as she considered Maryam. “Still, I do not want to wear you out. Take your meal to your room and rest there until Mother Lilith can check you.”

Maryam could not contain herself. “But Ruth and Mother Elizabeth—I wanted to spend time with them.”

The older woman's eyes narrowed and a nerve twitched along the line of her jaw. “I'm sure they will forgive you if you're too unwell.”

“Of course you must rest if you are ill,” Ruth broke in kindly. “I thought you looked a little pale.” She leaned over and kissed Maryam's cheek. “Don't worry, I will see you soon!”

Maryam had no choice now but to take her plate of food and leave. Anger and frustration boiled up inside her as she made her way out past the lunching servers and went to her room. Ruth was to undergo that humiliating ritual and she would not even be there to support her. It was so unfair.

She was glad of the rest despite herself. They would be preparing Ruth for her ritual now, and there was nothing she could do but ensure that she was there to comfort her once it was over.

Meanwhile, Sarah's dying face kept invading her thoughts, and she was burdened by her pledge to tell Sarah's family of her death. How was she to do this now? It seemed that every place she went, one of the Apostles watched. But she had promised Sarah—Tekeaa—and nothing would prevent her from keeping her word. Besides, if in fact they shared the same birthplace, then she was going to find her own birth mother, and that was that. She tried to dredge up her own birth name, whispered by her lost mother and etched somewhere inside her brain. It was buried deep, and she purposefully relaxed her mind to allow the invisible fingers of inquiry to rifle through the many fragments that were layered there.

Once, the very sound of her name had brought her comfort,
she was sure. But now it eluded her, as distant from her as the sense of excitement and anticipation that she'd experienced, and saw now in Ruthie's dear face, when her Bloods first came. How foolish she had been then, only weeks ago. She felt as if that girl was gone; that the person in her body now was as different to foolish “te bebi” as the coconut moth to the caterpillar from which it was formed.

She picked up the precious stone Ruth had given her, and held it tightly in her palm until her body heat had warmed it through. Then she held it to the dingy light that leaked in through her one window, and stared into its bright blue mass. Although it was smooth to her fingers, fine streaks of darker blue rippled from its centre, like the fine whorls of lines that marked her fingertips and thumbs. She stared at it and stared some more, willing it to release secrets that might set her free.
Nanona
. The name just popped into her mind, and she recognised it—moved toward it with a sense of joy. This was the name her mother had whispered at her birth. Nanona. The word meant “love.”

A playful knocking on her door roused her from her trance-like state. The door cracked open and Mother Elizabeth appeared in the widening gap. “Te bebi! I could not wait to see you one moment more!”

Maryam sprang from her bed, ignoring the dizziness as she rose too fast. She threw herself into Mother Elizabeth's open arms and buried her face into the scented plait of hair. Just the smell of her was calming, so familiar and secure.

Mother Elizabeth returned the embrace then eased her back, to study her. “You look a little tired, dear. Michal tells me that your energy is rather low.”

This absurd twisting of truth made Maryam almost want to laugh. Instead, she pulled Mother Elizabeth right into the room and firmly closed the door behind her. Perhaps now she could unburden her load. But first she had to sound the older woman out. “I am so glad to see you here,” she began. “Things have been…worrying.”

Mother Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Worrying? How is this possible in the Lord's most beautiful and sacred place?”

There was such genuine surprise in Mother Elizabeth's face that Maryam was sure, now, she did not know the truth about the blood-taking. She would take the risk and trust her, just as she had always done. “Please…” Maryam sat down on her bed again and indicated for Mother Elizabeth to join her there. “I know this will sound crazy, but things are not as we believed, Mother…”

The story came out in one long rush, Maryam daring not to pause for breath in case this chance was interrupted. Tears filled her eyes and she fought back sobs as she told of her humiliation, her increasing fear, and of the horrors of the blood-letting. Mother Elizabeth said nothing, just sat there with her eyes wide and a hand clasped tightly to her breast. She seemed to understand that Maryam needed, more than anything, to speak of what she'd endured.

When, finally, Sarah's woeful death was told and Maryam's words had all run dry, Mother Elizabeth shook her head as though confused and drew a breath. “But Maryam, my dear, you knew that you were Blessed to serve. The Lord works in His own mysterious way, and who are we to question this?”

Maryam's mouth dropped open and her breath stopped fast. Mother Elizabeth sanctioned it? This couldn't be true. She
gulped down air, trying to clear her mind to think. “You knew? All this time you raised us to believe that we were Blessed and special in the sight of the Lord and still you knew?” She felt that she was choking, that she'd stepped into a pool of quicksand and was sinking fast.

Mother Elizabeth took her hand and rubbed it reassuringly. “You're viewing this so strangely that I cannot comprehend your thoughts. What could be a greater calling than to keep the Lord's living messengers alive and well?”

Maryam tugged her hand from Mother Elizabeth's warm grasp and backed away, until the wall braced her spine. “Sarah died, Mother. And I am next. Rebekah has been forced with child. And Miriam and Abigail. Every one of us who you have raised is treated worse than Zakariya treats our goats!” Anger was upon her now. This woman, who she'd loved as truly as her own mother, must have known the nature of their peril from the moment they'd been wrenched from their families as little girls, but did not care.

Mother Elizabeth's face reddened, and she drew her arms together across her chest. “How can you accuse me of misleading you? That really hurts. I taught you girls the Rules—their meanings are quite clear to all.” She patted the space beside her on the bed. “Please, come and sit back down. Have I not always treated you with love and respect for the joyful sacrifice that the Lord, in his Choosing, blesses you to make?”

“I do not want to die,” Maryam squeaked, the words sticking in her throat like the stonefish's poisoned barbs. She sank to the floor, tears dripping between her knees.

Mother Elizabeth squatted down beside her. “But, te bebi, don't you see? You
are
the lucky ones. The Lord is calling you to
Heaven, to sit with Him at His table and reap the rewards.” She gave a tinkling little laugh. “I'm almost jealous of your luck. I must wait till I am old.”

Maryam closed her eyes to shut out Mother Elizabeth's beseeching face. There were no more words to express the sense of betrayal that gripped her. Her tears flowed on, forming a damp stain upon the bedroom floor. She wrapped her arms around her knees and dropped her head, exhaustion sweeping her like a silent squall.

She felt Mother Elizabeth's tentative hand upon her arm but did not respond. Finally, she heard her rise and cross the room to the door.

“We will talk of this again when you are calm,” Mother Elizabeth said to her. “Perhaps Father Joshua can give you the spiritual guidance that you need.”

“No!” Panic seized Maryam. She swallowed hard, forcing one of Rebekah's compliant smiles onto her face. “Please do not worry him with my foolish fears. I'm sure you're right.”

Mother Elizabeth studied her then shrugged. “As you wish.” She stepped from the room, closing the door behind her—leaving Maryam to shudder at the thought of just what form Father Joshua's “guidance” would no doubt take. One thing she could guarantee, it would not release her from the fate of bleeder.

It seemed she did not move for hours. She felt so dead inside: everything she believed in had been ripped away. There was no one here who could rescue her from this; no one who even seemed to care. Except her dear friend Ruth, but right now she was caught up in her own dark fate. And kind old Hushai, she conceded. And Brother Mark.

That was it! She would seek Mark out and ask his help. He had been the first to greet her as she boarded, so surely he could help her to escape the ship. If she could only get to Aneaba, fulfil her promise to Sarah, and perhaps find family of her own…. She had to try.

Maryam was eventually summoned back down to the storeroom by Mother Jael. So far from Ruth's welcome ceremony, she could only imagine Ruth's humiliation as the afternoon dragged on. She tried to distract herself by focusing on the stocktake, but helplessness enveloped her.

Around her the bones of the ship creaked and clanged, and the occasional distant bang echoed through to her—the only tangible proof that life continued above. She felt so utterly alone, as though already she had died and gone to Hell.

Mother Elizabeth's betrayal stabbed like a fish hook in her heart and her sole consolation was the promise of the food-packed shelves. As she counted container after container of te kabubu powder her escape plan began to hatch and breathe, and take on a more solid shape.

Careful not to spill any of the precious powder, she opened one of the containers and scooped a small amount of it into an empty bowl. Then she shook the original, redistributing the powder until its surface once again appeared untouched. She moved on to the next container and the next, repeating the process again and again until her bowl was brimming with te kabubu which, mixed with water, might not taste wonderful but would give her strength to make her break. If she was to reach Aneaba she'd need food to maintain her through the long hard walk, and te kabubu was so light she could carry it without much strain.

She was just emptying the powder into a cloth bag she
could strap around her waist, when the clamour of footsteps broke through the silence. The ceremony must have ended now. Maryam prayed that the toddy had sent Ruth to sleep. Then, at least for a few hours more, she'd have some peace.

But the footsteps kept on coming: others were traipsing down her stairs. It did not sound like Brother Mark, rather two voices—one male and one female—trickled down the stairwell and grew louder still. Unsure who was coming or why, Maryam crept to the furthest corner of the storeroom and crouched low.

“I told you it would be empty,” someone gloated. “Now, come over here and have a drink.”

A girlish giggle followed and Maryam heard one of the containers of toddy being slid from the shelves and a scraping sound as someone unscrewed the metal lid.

“Here, my angel. Drink this down.” There was arrogance in the man's voice, as though he expected to be obeyed. And then it struck Maryam—the voice belonged to Lazarus.

She felt compelled to watch now, feeling she was safer with him in her sights. She crept slowly around the shelves until she could see the two beside the opened toddy, their faces yellow in the lantern's glow. Lazarus had his arm wrapped tightly around the woman's waist—a server in her late twenties whose features bore the wide flat look of those from Onewēre's eastern shores. It was obvious she was already full of toddy; her limbs were limp and unresisting as he fondled her and slowly started to unbutton her white shirt. Then, with one hand he took a great handful of her hair and pulled her head back hard until her mouth dragged open from the strain. With the other hand he poured more toddy down her throat. She spluttered and choked, but most of it she swallowed down in painful gulps.

“That's right, sweetheart. Uncle Laz will help you sleep.” He clamped his arm back around her waist, supporting her as the effects of the extra toddy hit her like a heavy weight. She tried to speak, but already she was well past forming any words. Instead she merely whimpered as he lowered her roughly to the ground and started now, in earnest, to strip off her clothes. He was going to force himself upon the woman and perhaps worse, Maryam feared, as she watched him remove his belt and tie it roughly around the woman's neck.

Before she could stop herself, Maryam leapt from her hiding place into the light. “Stop that, now!”

He startled, swinging around to source her voice. “You!” There was fury in his eyes, but then he smiled. “Are you offering an alternative?” So confident, so completely unthreatened, he deserted the unconscious woman and circled Maryam like a cruising shark, the smirk that stretched his lips like that of the bakoas that ruled the reef.

Maryam clenched her fists, willing herself to stand her ground. Any sign of weakness from her and this shark would soon attack. “I think, Brother Lazarus, you should take your belt and quickly leave.” It was impossible to keep the wobble from her voice, but she met his gaze and held it firm.

Lazarus grinned. “I must admit you sure have pluck for such a scrawny little hen. A word from me to my father, girl, and he could make life very grim.”

“You think it's not already grim?” she snapped. There was something in his confidence that goaded her. Why, oh why could she not just hold her foolish tongue?

“Grim? Now, now,” he clucked. “Don't you know the Lord has Chosen you? Others on the island would give anything to
stay here with us.” There was mockery in his voice, as though he knew the story was an ugly lie. “My father runs a busy ship. If you're unhappy I can help.” He raised a pale eyebrow and slowly winked.

“Your father?”

“Come on. Surely you know I'm the son of Joshua and Lilith?” He inched closer, until they stood almost toe to toe. “So if you're thinking of refusing me, I'd think again.”

How could she not have known this? His likeness to Father Joshua was plain to see—and the relationship made him even more dangerous. Behind him the young woman groaned, lolling onto her side and vomiting in one fluid burst. The stench rose sharply, drowning out the sweet aroma of the fruit.

“Oh, spare me,” Lazarus barked. “You skinny ones can never hold your drink.” He turned to the poor woman, rolling her with his foot until her face lay in the stinking mess.

“Leave her,” Maryam hissed, crouching down next to the woman and dragging her face free of the muck. The acid smell of the vomit was so overpowering up close, Maryam's eyes watered.

“Is that an acceptance then?” There was grim humour in his voice. He squatted down beside her, and ran his hand along the strip of skin revealed between her shirt and skirt.

His touch burned a path of fire across her back. She leapt away from him, grabbing her bag of powder and making quickly for the stairs. Behind her, he laughed. “You can run, little Maryam, but you cannot hide. The Lord does not give up on his Sisters quite so easily.”

She did not wait to hear the rest of his blasphemy, but simply forced herself to keep moving despite the lingering
exhaustion in her legs. She burst through the doors into the kitchen, just as Brother Mark walked in.

“What is wrong?”

In between her ragged breaths, all she could get out was “Lazarus.” It was enough.

The smell of vomit still hung in the air, despite Maryam's efforts to wash it away. Brother Mark had seen Lazarus off and carried the unconscious woman to her room.

When he returned to the storeroom, Maryam risked sharing her plans. “If you could just lower me down the side, I'll make my way from there on foot.”

Brother Mark shook his head. “When they catch you—and they will—your punishment will be very harsh.”

Maryam nodded. “Yes, I know.” She swallowed hard. “But I have no choice. I promised Sarah I would go.” She met his gaze, reassured by the kindness there. “I think that I was born there too.”

“If you're hoping to find family there, then there are things you ought to know. You have lived in peace upon the atoll, but Onewēre is quite different.”

“But I've been there for the Judgements. It doesn't seem so dissimilar.”

Brother Mark laughed bitterly. “Then you have witnessed the control the Apostles hold over us all. Behind their backs some among our people may resent them, but they'll do nothing to anger our Lord.”

“What am I to do, then? Does te kimoa lie down peacefully
inside a snare once he is caught?” She shuddered, picturing the slow death of a struggling rat as the flaxen noose tightened around its neck. “No, he fights until his life has gone.”

He frowned, the lines rippling out across his forehead like a disturbed sea. “You understand the villagers will likely beat you and return you if you're caught? Their fear of the Lord sending forth another Tribulation will outweigh any tie of blood.”

Maryam shrugged. “What other choices do I have?”

The question remained unanswered, both knowing there was none to give. Eventually Brother Mark sighed. “All right. Meet me on the lifeboat deck, where Sister Sarah passed away, tonight when everyone is asleep. I will get you to the causeway, but I cannot risk more than that.”

“That much is fine. From there I'll make my own way home.” Excitement and fear competed inside her, and she tried to dampen both emotions down so they did not overwhelm her now. This was her chance—perhaps her only chance—to take control and she felt compelled to risk it, no matter what the possible cost.

To Maryam's great frustration she was sent back to her room by Mother Michal. She had no chance to ask anyone how Ruth had fared, and it boiled away inside her that she could not help. It was as if Mother Michal sensed the depth of her rebellion and was taking no chances. The one consolation was that she could preserve her fragile energy for the night's escape.

Now she lay fully clothed beneath the blanket on her bed. It was at least two hours since she'd heard the last clatters of
activity beyond her door, and the night outside her window was silent and black. Finally she decided it was safe to move and slipped out of bed to tie the bag of te kabubu around her waist. There was nothing left to plan—she had unlocked the door earlier, once she was sure that Mother Michal had finished her rounds.

Ears straining to pick up any suspicious sound, Maryam slowly opened the door and peered outside.

Nothing. She was about to leave, when an overwhelming urge drew her back in to retrieve Ruth's pebble. She pressed the cool stone into her palm and held it tight, as if it were some precious part of Ruth.

Her journey through the sleeping boat was hindered by the lack of moonlight. Twice Maryam missed a step and had to cling to the handrail to halt her fall. Metal surfaces gleamed dully in the suffocating gloom like the flashing underbelly of a stingray in the sea's dark depths, and the long narrow corridors seemed to elongate in length and yet reduce in height—the walls and ceilings pressing in on her as if they longed to trap her there and hold her fast. Toddy-drunk snores leaked under doors, and through the layers of rusting hull she heard the restless heaving of the swell against the reef. Before she'd come to this cursed place, she'd loved to wander in the night amidst the busy nocturnal creatures who shared her home. Yet the only creature keeping pace with her inside this sleeping city now was fear.

When she reached the lower hospital level she slowed and began to check the numbers on the doors. Brother Mark had reminded her of Hushai's room number and she did not want to go ashore without speaking to him first. She felt guilty at his
punishment for helping Sarah and, besides, he was bound to know how Ruthie had fared.

She located his door and tapped upon it lightly with one fingernail, just enough to call him if he did not sleep. He must have been waiting, for he was there even before her hand had dropped back to her side. He lifted his head, his nostrils flaring as he breathed her scent. “Sister Maryam?”