The Crossing (2 page)

The meal, freshly caught snapper doused in mangoes with steamed swamp taro, slipped down easily enough, but Maryam hardly tasted it. Neither did she really hear the happy chatter of the other girls. Instead, Rule Six from Captain Saul, the founding father of the Apostles of the Lamb, took form and sang inside her head:
By the Blood's great power, the most humble of us may Cross to the Holy City into the Lamb's presence and live there Always.
It reassured and soothed her just to think of this. To live in the Holy City, the awe-inspiring
Star of the Sea
, would surely be a joy. There, she hoped, all fears about her future life would drop away.

Later, at Mother Elizabeth's sleeping hut, she found her mentor deep in prayer, on her knees—her hair set free from its thick plait to tumble down her back and sweep the floor. Maryam knocked on the carved doorframe and waited to be called inside.

Mother Elizabeth, looking like an angel in the spluttering lamp light, finished her prayer and rose gracefully to her feet, turning to Maryam with a welcoming smile. “Come in, Sister,” she invited, taking Maryam's small brown hand. “No more can we call you our bebi, eh? Evodia tells me that your Bloods have come.” She sat down on her sleeping mat and patted the space beside her. “Come, sit here.”

Maryam obeyed, smelling the same rich scent of pandanus on Mother Elizabeth's skin as she had smelt in her jungle hiding place that afternoon. She must have bathed in the crushed
leaves, Maryam realised, noticing the oily sheen upon the older woman's skin.

“And so, at last, you are to leave us.” Mother Elizabeth's gaze swept her face. “Are you ready, child?”

Maryam nodded, not trusting her voice.

“We will summon the boat at first light, then I will come to your hut and help prepare you for the Crossing.”

Again Maryam nodded, hoping Mother Elizabeth would forgive her for her lack of words. It was all so big—so sudden—and the realisation that she was to leave her home, her friends, hit hard. “I will be ready,” she eventually croaked, and Mother Elizabeth responded with a warm embrace.

“Don't be sad, my dear. This should be a time of great celebration!”

“But I will miss you all,” Maryam said, fighting to suppress her tears.

Mother Elizabeth sighed, holding Maryam at arm's length to read her eyes. “But Rebekah will be there, and Sarah, too—they will not have forgotten you in the two years since their Crossing. And Miriam and Abigail: surely you remember them?”

“Of course I do, but it's not the same. Ruth is like my real sister, and you…” She could not continue, her throat closing up in her effort not to cry.

“Come now, I will see you soon enough.” A blush crept up Mother Elizabeth's neck and consumed her face. “You mustn't tell the others this, but I am—” she stopped, swallowing as if the words were choking her, “—I am, you see, newly with child, and will make the Crossing soon myself.”

Despite the news that Maryam would see Mother Elizabeth again, this other admission left her deeply shocked. With child?
She had never heard of such a thing, in all the time that she'd been here. “But how?”

Mother Elizabeth rose from the sleeping mat and paced the room, more like a nervous girl than the leader of the Blessed Mothers. She spun to face Maryam, her eyes dark with dread. “I should not have told you, and you must promise me your lips are sealed.”

Maryam nodded mutely, even as her mind swirled at the news.

“Go to bed now,” Mother Elizabeth said. “You will need your strength for tomorrow's ceremony, take my word.” With that, she swept Maryam's mass of hair away from her forehead and gently kissed her there. “Go well.”

Maryam embraced her one last time, unable quite to meet those eyes, and left the hut. By now the night had grown black, with just the twinkle of the torches beside each sleeping hut to light her way. How could she sleep, with the promise of the Crossing so soon upon her? It seemed impossible. And now with this other secret to carry…would the Apostles of the Lamb meet Mother Elizabeth with open arms or anger? She had no idea. But she felt a surge of protectiveness toward the woman who had raised her with a kindly hand and sureness of faith.

Too full of turmoil to take to her bed, Maryam traversed the silent compound and made her way down to the shore. She passed the scrubby ground where the chickens roosted underneath the breadfruit trees, the musty scent of their droppings spicing the crisp evening air, and took the beaten path through the taro patch to avoid any encounter with the village goats. They were tame enough, but she did not want to disturb the sleeping Sisters by startling the noisy troublemakers. Above her
head, a giant fruit bat glided from palm to palm on the gentle breeze. Torchlight washed its pale underbelly, glowing much as angels might in Heaven's sky.

A half moon floated high above the bay, lighting up the busy foraging of the translucent, bandy-legged tairiki crabs. She tiptoed through them, careful not to disturb their nightly hunt for food, until she stood at the water's edge with the sea lapping playfully at her toes.

And there, across the water, connected to the main island by the causeway, shone the Holy City. The sight was so familiar, she knew its outer detail as well as her own skin. The impenetrable sides, ten times higher than the tallest jungle trees, were streaked with rust where time had weathered them. The tier upon tier of little windows, some lit with such a steady light it must surely be radiating straight from the Lord. And the crowning cap that bore its name:
Star of the Sea
.

Tomorrow she would Cross. And from that time on, Maryam suspected, her life would never be the same.

Ruth was still awake when Maryam finally slipped back into the sleeping hut. She rose up on one elbow and peered through the gloom. “Are you all right?”

Maryam wrapped her blanket around herself and huddled up against the wall. “It's strange, you know, I've waited for this moment for so long and now it's here I feel scared.”

“Why scared?” Ruth sat up too, reaching across and squeezing Maryam's arm reassuringly. “The others who have Crossed are there—they will look out for you. Besides, we are the Chosen. The Blessed Sisters. We're the lucky ones.”

“But why? Just because my blood didn't clot with Father Joshua's? What proof is that?”

“The Lord's way is mysterious,” Ruth replied. She shrugged and nestled back down onto her mat. “All I know, or care about, is that I've been given this gift straight from Him—and however He wishes me to serve I gladly will.”

Maryam sighed, sliding down until she lay flat on her sleeping mat as well. There was no point having this conversation now, or any time again, with Ruth. She'd felt this way herself at Ruth's age. But in these last two years, despite the fact her body had refused to bloom, a creeping change had taken place in her mind.

She thought about the last two Judgements she'd attended on the main island of Onewēre, where she was born. How she'd watched the villagers with new eyes, seeing past their reverence and ritual to something more unsettling and secret. She could
not name these feelings, just sensed the swirling undercurrent that made her heart beat fast and jittery, as though she faced an enemy she could not name.

She played out these feelings again now, running her mind's eye over the dancing villagers with their paint-streaked faces and stamping feet. The faraway look in the eyes of the hip-swaying women as they sang; the sagging skin of the old men, their backs stooped as they led the dance. And, then, the sharp outlines of the Apostles' serving men.

How they'd sized her up, those brash young men, as if she was a frog or fish they planned to eat. They strutted past her like mangrove herons, stretching out their necks and almost preening as they met her gaze. She'd felt undressed, despite the pure white robe each Blessed Sister wore at Judgement time. Felt as though they looked right through and saw her quaking nakedness beneath.

She knew so little of men, except old Zakariya, who tended the gardens and the animals, and poor crippled Simon, who caught the fish and helped with the daily chores. These two formed the backbone of her life here, quietly going about their business undisturbed unless a wayward Sister obstructed them or did some wrong. Then Zakariya would chastise them, furiously waving his stick at them. Simon never said a word. When first Maryam had come here she'd been scared of him—his wasted foot and lumbering limp, together with his split top lip, marking him as a victim of Te Matee Iai. Yet he was a lucky one, the plague merely disfiguring him while he was still tucked tight within his mother's womb, not stealing his life or mind. And she liked him now, the way his crooked smile would greet her shyly each time they passed; the way he stroked the animals so tenderly and met their needs.

When Brother James had arrived the previous year he'd caused a stir. A young Apostle of the Lamb, his skin was white. Up close, Maryam could see the veins lay like paths beneath, as though he lacked the strong layers of protection offered by her own brown skin. He was friendly enough, teasing all of them—especially Mother Elizabeth—until they'd blush. But, beneath the charm, Maryam sensed something else. That same unsettling rawness as the village boys.

Again she sighed, wishing sleep would come upon her so her mind would cease its restless swirl. Perhaps it was the thought of entering the Holy City and living amidst men for the first time that stirred her so? Yes, perhaps.

She could hear the steady rise and fall of Ruth's sleeping breaths and focused in on them to calm her own and try to ease the nagging pains. If only she…no, just follow the breaths. Day would bring the answers that this night denied. Just breathe and sleep. Breathe and sleep. The day was near.

The first strangled crows of the old rooster woke Maryam from her dreams of swimming, of diving down into the rainbow world of coral near the deep lagoon. The sense of freedom, of total weightlessness beneath the waves, stayed with her as she washed and dressed, dealing with her stained undergarments and the seep of blood.

She ate her morning meal in silence, as they all did—the time laid aside to contemplate the day and make their daily peace with the Lord. But this morning the fresh fruits stuck in her throat and their sweet juices churned her already fragile
stomach. She pushed the plate aside and went back to her hut to wait.

Unsure what to do with herself, she collected her belongings and lay them on her blanket, ready to wrap: her few clothes, her toiletries, her Holy Book and its accompanying Rules, and the woven flax basket of shells she had collected and added to since she was young. She took down the rare albatross feather she had fixed to the rafter above her bed and added it to her meagre pile. The mirror she would leave for Ruth, unsure she would be allowed such a blatant object of vanity in the Lord's sacred home.

Mother Elizabeth appeared in the doorway. “Are you ready for your big day?” 

Maryam laughed nervously. “As ready as I'll ever be.” She gestured toward the pile on her bed.

“I've packed.”

Mother Elizabeth entered and took from the pile the white gown Maryam wore each year to observe the Judgement. “Wear this today to make your trip.” She put her arm around Maryam and led her to the threshold of the little hut. “The boat will come to take you to the village in one hour's time. Brother James will accompany you to the causeway—from there, as you know, you must make the last part of the Crossing on your own. It is the custom.”

“Will I still have time to say goodbye to everyone before I leave?”

“Of course! You don't think we'd let our little Sister go without a word!” Mother Elizabeth crushed her in a sudden embrace. “It will be fine, te bebi, you will see. Your Sisters in the Holy City will support you. You have been chosen for greatness—and, believe me, the Holy City is more miraculous
than you ever could imagine.” Her eyes lit up, as though she were seeing the vision there in front of her. “Such colours. Such height.”

Now she released Maryam and grew more solemn. “Just remember, all that you will experience is the Lord's will. It is not for us to question Him. At first it will all seem strange and overwhelming, so much to learn. But if you listen and only do as you are told, all will be well. And pay heed to the Ninth Rule:
None may question the authority of the Lord's chosen representatives: the sacred Apostles of the Lamb.
” For a fleeting moment last night's dread again clouded her eyes, before she shook her head as though to clear it. “Now,” she continued, in a tone that brooked no argument, “please come with me.”

Maryam followed her across the compound to the bathing huts, aware of the envious gaze of the other Blessed Sisters upon her as they passed. Zakariya must have risen early, for the tub was filled with steaming water in which pandanus leaves were steeping.

“The scent will help to ease your pains,” Mother Elizabeth explained. “And I have asked Mother Evodia to mix up more tonic for you to take.”

The familiar scent permeated the hut, its wild, sun-drenched fullness calming the knot in Maryam's stomach as she raised her two fat plaits and lowered herself into the ancient metal tub. She took the soft coconut soap, worked it to a sweet-smelling lather and scrubbed until her skin shone sunset pink. Then, somewhat reluctantly, she stepped into the drying cloth Mother Elizabeth held out for her, and dried herself.

Mother Elizabeth shook out the long white gown and helped Maryam to slip the fine linen fabric over her head. She showed
her how to pack her undergarments with the leaves of the octopus bush, to prevent any leakage of blood. Then she took Maryam's braids and gently released them from their knot, brushing out the wiry curls until they fizzed in a dark sweet-scented halo around her face. “Now, my dear, I think you're ready.”

They strolled back across the compound to collect Maryam's belongings, joined by others as they passed. By the time Maryam arrived nervously down by the water to await the longboat, the whole of the community stood beside her as one family group. At first a silence settled on them as they watched the longboat cut through the calm early-morning sea and glide up onto the glistening beach. But then all reserve vanished as Maryam was swept from one loving and familiar pair of arms to another, receiving her Sisters' heartfelt blessings this final time.

The little ones began to cry, their grief releasing a memory of her own tears when Sarah and Rebekah Crossed two years before. Thirteen then, she'd been devoured by jealousy that their Bloods had come ahead of hers, when they were barely aged eleven and twelve. It marked her out as different, the one whose Call had been delayed. And earlier, like these little ones, she'd cried purely because she sensed the heightened feelings that had rippled through the group like restless seas as others Crossed.

Now old Zakariya made his way to the front of the crowd and kissed her cheek. “Go well, Sister Maryam. I'll miss your smile.”

That the old man would say this—a man of so few words and little outward sentiment—caused a swelling in her chest. She bit her lip, scared now that her tears would turn to sobs and shame her. Then it was dearest Ruthie who stood before her, and Maryam's heart felt that it would snap in two.

“Remember me,” Ruth whispered, slipping something smooth and round into Maryam's hot sticky hand. “I'm coming over to you, just as soon as I can call the Bloods.” She threw her strong arms around Maryam's neck and hugged her close. “Goodbye, my Sister. We will race again!”

This was too much for Maryam, and she stumbled toward the longboat now to hide her ragged emotions from the crowd. Brother James held the boat steady as she raised her gown to board, but then she stopped.
Mother Elizabeth!
She ran back to her, uncaring now if she did not seem composed and, despite her size, swept Mother Elizabeth off her feet.

“I will look out for you,” she whispered fiercely in the older woman's ear. “Seek me out.”

Mother Elizabeth nodded, wiping tears away from her streaming eyes. “Of course, my dear. But now it's time.”

At last Maryam stepped into the longboat and turned to wave. From the beach, the Sisters broke into song. “
When the Bridegroom cometh will your robes be white?…
” Their voices carried across the water as the longboat slipped effortlessly through the sea, the steady rise and dip of its oars keeping time with the Sisters' parting song.

Maryam could watch no more, her eyes too flooded with tears to see. She turned toward the island, so Brother James could not observe her pain. Slowly her wits returned, and she felt Ruth's gift clutched tightly in her palm. She opened her hand to reveal a pebble of the clearest blue she'd ever seen. It was like a jewel. Like the sea had been captured and magically frozen there. She pressed the stone against her heart, not shifting now until the longboat reached Onewēre's golden shore.