The Crossing (20 page)

Maryam felt like she'd been flogged. Appalled, she lifted her eyes to Mother Elizabeth's exquisite face. “You knew that I was being bled to death and only came to see me to say goodbye?”

Mother Elizabeth, now defensive, crossed her arms. “Whatever my motivations, I see now it is fortunate I came. What game are you playing, Sister Maryam? Where do you go?”

Maryam could not answer her, still so caught up in Mother Elizabeth's collusion with the Apostles.

Instead it was Ruth, sweet mild-mannered Ruth, who stood her ground. “You will leave here and not say a word. If it felt right to you that Maryam would die, then think it so. You do not need to betray us over and over again—let us go.”

At this, Mother Elizabeth seemed to rouse, now fully understanding their intent. She slowly shook her head. “You know I cannot just let you leave. Father Joshua would punish me as well.”

“Then don't tell him,” Ruth spluttered. She shook Maryam's arm, trying to bring her back into the moment they were facing now, but her face had leached of blood and her body hung listless under Ruth's strong grip.

“But it is my duty to uphold the Holy City's law.”

“What law is this? The one that says the Sisters can be sacrificed like Maryam—or defiled like us?”

Defiled?
Maryam emerged from her stupor and seized Ruth by the shoulders, holding her fast. “Oh, Ruthie. No! Tell me he didn't do that to you.” But then the rest of Ruth's sentence resounded in her head.
Us?
She spun back to Mother Elizabeth, who had herself turned sickly pale.
Could that mean…?

Mother Elizabeth's arms fell to her sides. “How did you know?”

“He followed me to the storeroom and locked the door,” Ruth said. “I had no choice. I could not run—and, anyway, no one was going to argue with Father Joshua. After he'd…done it…he said that I should learn to be as humble and compliant as you.” She met Mother Elizabeth's eye and held it, disillusionment flattening her voice. “He laughed at you, you know. Said he hoped you had a daughter that you'd raise to be as yielding—that he looked forward to having her as well.”

Mother Elizabeth's hands shot to her mouth, holding back a whimper as she slumped to the floor. Meanwhile, Maryam took Ruth up in her arms and embraced her as tightly as she could. Angry tears sprang to her eyes and she brushed them away roughly with her arm.

“Why didn't you say? I heard no word of this from Hushai.”

Ruth shrugged. “What could you do? After it was over I told myself I only had to last here one more day.”

Maryam crossed to Mother Elizabeth and crouched down at her side. “We are leaving, Mother who has raised us both. You can either call the servers, or let us go. The choice is yours. But think on this: if we were your daughters by birth, like the one you carry inside, would you want to see us suffer any further under this man? Or would you want us to escape?”

Mother Elizabeth did not speak, her mouth quivering as tears rolled down her beautiful tormented face.

“Come on.” Maryam rose and grasped Ruth's hand. “It's time to leave.” They did not glance back at Mother Elizabeth, had no idea what she would choose. But they had to risk carrying out their plan, and now that Ruth had revealed Father Joshua's abuse, Maryam would rather die in the process than see her dear friend violated again.

They ran along the corridor now, not pausing until they reached the door that led them to the outside deck—the one where Sarah had died. Hushai awaited them, beckoning them over to the two thick ropes he'd tied securely to the rusty bollards and then dangled down the side. There was no moving platform this time to descend the ship. No Brother Mark to ease them down. This time they must rely on the ropes alone.

Hushai took Maryam in his arms. “Thank you, little one, for bringing such hope to this old foolish heart.” He kissed her forehead, his bristly chin prickling against her smooth face. “Go with the blessing of our ancestors—and don't look back.”

“It's not too late. You still could come.”

The old man smiled. “What use would an old blind man be? No, child. I will rejoice in the knowledge that you're far from here. That is enough.”

Maryam took the rope between her hands and cautiously
eased herself out over the drop down to the causeway far below. “I'll never forget you, Hushai.”

With that she pushed herself off, wrapping her legs around the rope to slow her as she saw, out of the corner of her eye, Ruth bravely do the same. It was a daunting drop, the wind buffeting them as they edged downward, the rough rope cutting into Maryam's hands and cruelly grazing and burning the soft unguarded skin around her inner thighs. Her arms shook with the effort of holding fast, the muscles spasming and screaming out their pain as, inch by inch, the formidable descent took its toll. The causeway was so far and unforgiving down below and capture only one potential glance away.

Dusk was settling around them, the full moon swept by fast-moving clouds as the two girls slowly scuffed their way down the flaking rusty hull. It was still light enough to be spotted if a villager cared to look, and the excruciating minutes seemed to stretch until Maryam's cramping arms felt they'd never hold her long enough to reach the ground. Blood started to ooze from the rope burns down between her legs. But then the causeway rose to greet them and Maryam let herself freefall until her feet, at last, slapped down onto the solid bamboo slats.

She dropped down to her haunches and crouched beside the massive hull, biting her lip to suppress sobs of self-pity as she waited for Ruth to join her there. Over on Onewēre the village appeared quiet: they were preparing for night and she could only hope no one would see them on this, the most exposing part of their escape. When Ruth finally dropped beside her with a grunt, Hushai immediately started reeling the heavy ropes back up to the ship.

Both girls overrode the pain messages that shrilled in their ears; they ran down the causeway as if Lucifer chased them. The
causeway swayed beneath their feet, rocking in the swell, and Maryam turned her head toward the open sea, her heart skipping a beat as she saw the crests of waves break on the reef. It was no docile sea this night, and the thought of setting forth on it filled her with dread. But there was no time for regret now, and finally they jumped off the end of the causeway onto dry land.

Hand in hand, they sped along the sandy beach, trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the village before someone discovered them and called a halt. They skirted the compound, cutting in behind the vegetable patches and bent almost double to conceal themselves in the shadows of the scrubby vegetation. Just as they thought they were free of the worst, they came upon a village dog snuffling at the remains of a rat. It reeled around, baring its yellow teeth and barking savagely as they detoured and resumed running. Soon other village dogs answered this one and a pack of them came after the girls, snapping at their heels until Maryam scooped up a handful of rocks and threw them. But the barking had aroused interest and, somewhere behind them now, men's voices rang out.

“Into the jungle,” Maryam panted, sure she could hear the sound of running feet behind them now. This was the stuff of her late night terrors, that they'd not even make it to the boat.

Somewhere off behind them seabirds screamed and reeled in the blustery air and, as the friends plunged into the lush coastal jungle, the evening filled with the calls of many tiny creatures marking the transformation from day to night. Already Maryam was exhausted, her breath ragged and painful as her legs cried out for some reprieve. But now Ruth's skill for running came into its own: she linked her arm to Maryam's and hauled her through the thick undergrowth toward their goal.

“You can do this, Maryam,” Ruth puffed. “Remember how you nearly won our race back on the atoll?” She somehow managed to grin at the memory, using it as ammunition to spur Maryam on.

Only deep inside the jungle did they stop, Maryam doubling over and dropping her hands onto her knees to ease her cramps. Her rope-burnt thighs stung like fury and her pulse thundered in her ears. Each breath stabbed as if she drew in jagged coral from the air. “I don't know,” she gasped, “if I can keep this up.”

But already Ruth was restless, wanting to move as far away from habitation as they could. “Come on,” she urged. “Someone could be following. Just one more burst and then we're there.”

She was right, of course. There was no choice now but to carry on. Maryam drew in one last deep breath then straightened and began, again, to run. It was a nightmare world, the light fading fast around them and the hostile noises of the jungle sending prickles down her spine. As the two girls blundered past, birds burst from their roosts, screeching their annoyance to the underworld of tree and bush. Somewhere behind them, something crashed through undergrowth, fighting through the vegetation much as they did.
Please let it be an animal
, Maryam prayed, remembering the huge wild boar she and Joseph had encountered on her last gruelling attempt to flee. A boar they could contend with, perhaps, but a group of angry villagers they could not.

At last, the thickness of the undergrowth gave way to the trailing air-roots of the mangroves and they fought their way through them, Maryam anxious she might not recall the precise spot where Joseph was to moor the boat. Then an even greater fear assailed her. What if they had made their break, only to discover Joseph had not come? She dared not voice her doubts: the weight of responsibility for Ruth was so heavy it made her
want to retch. All this turmoil, this risk, and she relied upon the word of white Apostles to aid their flight. Was she mad?

But now they stumbled on a faint pathway and she thought she recognised the rough-formed track. She led now, clasping Ruth's hand as they stumbled through brackish puddles in the growing dark. If they were being pursued they would be safer now; the mangroves were one huge tangled maze. Above, the moon seemed to have deserted them, and only its pale aura lit the edges of the streaky clouds.

Then there they were! The masts of Father Jonah's beautiful craft standing out against the sky. And Joseph ran to greet them, wrapping his arms around them both as all three laughed in sheer relief.

“You made it!” he cried, lifting the exhausted Maryam and swinging her around. Then his jubilant mood collapsed. “Mother has already left. She would not come.”

His distress cut through her guilty knowledge of Mother Deborah's desertion like a knife. Had she not lost a mother as well? She took his hands between her own and tried to steady him. “You have her love, and know it to be true and strong—that will travel with you no matter what.” She saw the words take root and tried to think of something else to help ease his loss. “She shows much faith in you to make the voyage without her.” She squeezed his hand and forced a cheeky smile. “Besides, one day, so long as you can read the maps, we will return.”

“You have a map?” Ruth asked, peering over her shoulder as if she expected to see a horde of villagers break through the trees.

Joseph nodded, his wary eyes now also scanning the dark jungle from which they'd come. “It's in the boat. Come take a look.”

Maryam studied the craft, which suddenly appeared so
much smaller and more vulnerable under the vast expanse of sky. “How did it sail?” she asked, the enormity of what they were about to undertake suddenly hitting her full force.

“We only set a storm sail. The wind is quite shifty around the reef and Mother thought it better that we take our time and do not call upon the full power of the wind until we are well out to sea.”

Maryam swallowed hard. She could do this. She could do this! She blew out a tensely held breath and took off her bag, swinging it over the side of the boat and gingerly climbing aboard. Her legs shook from the effort to move and, yet, she felt a surge of energy flow through her as she ran her hand down the closer of the tall timber masts. She studied Joseph's face, his neck. No signs of Te Matee Iai—for now. “How do you feel?” she asked him gently, brushing her hand across his arm.

He grinned and shrugged. “As if I am about to launch myself straight into Hell—so let's set off!”

She laughed, his humour soothing her, calming her down. He was right. There was no point delaying or debating now. If they were to do this crazy thing, they had to do it before they were discovered—and while her nerve still held. “Okay. Ruth, you climb aboard. We'll use the oars to get us out into the clear.”

Joseph started untying the mooring ropes.

“I cannot go.” Ruth's small frightened voice broke through the gloom.

“What?” Maryam spun back around to her, seeing how Ruth's eyes locked on the boat. She knew what Ruth was thinking, could see her utter terror at the sudden reality of their voyage clear in her eyes. “Come on, Ruthie. You've scaled the side of a huge ship. You've defied Father Joshua. You've been so brave. Of course you'll come.”

“But you don't need me now. Just go. I only said I'd come so I could make sure that you got this far.”

Maryam shook her head, not believing what she heard. “You never planned to come?”

Ruth shook her head and backed away from them, toward the trees.

Maryam stamped her foot, frustration and fear riding on her back as the mangroves seemed to fill with noise. “But I'm not going unless you come, too. I refuse to leave you here to be defiled or killed.”

“I can't,” Ruth squeaked, tears swilling in her eyes. “What if the stories of the Tribulation are true and we are sailing out into a poisoned void?”

“We must rely on faith, Sister Ruth,” Joseph answered steadily. “I believe there's somewhere we can build a new and better life.”

“Faith?” she echoed weakly. “What of the faith with which we're raised?”

“Quite right!” A dark shadow broke from the overhanging trees and pounced on Ruth, capturing her around her neck with an unrelenting arm. As he spoke again, Lazarus's voice was clearly recognisable. “Well, well. Look what we have here, then.” He twisted his arm further, squeezing Ruth so tightly that her eyes bulged in their sockets and she fought to breathe. In his free hand he brandished a knife, collecting all the light spilled by the moon to sparkle menacingly before their eyes.