Priya didn’t sleep well that night. She stayed by the window, the deerskin covering pulled back, so she could watch the village from a distance.
Aaron and Anissa tried to encourage her to sleep, but she shook her head. “I do not trust these people,” she told them.
“I understand why,” Aaron replied. “We have not had visitors to our vale for hundreds of years. It is a new experience and sometimes newness makes us uncomfortable.”
“It isn’t that, Papai. It is the way the cleric talks about Eusou. He calls us heathens and pagans. Why does he think we need to be saved?”
Anissa touched her gently on the arm. “They do not know us. They do not understand our ways. We are as strange to them as they are to us.”
But they could not sway her and now Priya kept watch, the rhythmic sounds of her parents sleeping providing some comfort.
There was smoke rising from the opening in the roof of the House of Eusou. Reaching into her satchel, Priya fingered the jar that contained a small fraction of the medicine the cleric had thrown into the fire. The thought of his actions made Priya’s heart ache. That was medicine that would have been used for the passages of other women in the village and now it was gone.
A movement caught her eye and drew her attention to the forest. At first she thought that it might have been a deer, coming out of the woods to find water to drink at the lake or brook. But when she saw it move again, she saw that it stood on two legs. Her heart jumped. Was it the cleric or one of the armed men?
The moon dipped out from behind a cloud and as its light lit up the vale, Priya saw that it was Arcas. He stopped at the footpath, watching their house.
Priya wrapped a cloak around her and stepped outside, closing the door quietly behind her.
“Night, Arcas,” she whispered. “My heart nearly stopped.”
“I am sorry, Priya. I did not mean to wake you.”
“I wasn’t asleep. I couldn’t. Not with these strangers here.”
Arcas nodded. “I couldn’t either. Come with me.”
Priya folded her arms beneath the cloak to keep them warm and followed Arcas into the forest. They walked deep into the forest, the trees and brush thickening around them before they turned north to circle the village. Together, they walked in silence. Slowly. Being careful where they placed each foot to ensure they made as little sound as possible.
When the western edge of the village appeared, Arcas crouched down and Priya did as well. The village was quiet. While smoke still rose from each house, no other signs of life existed at that moment.
Arcas and Priya snuck from tree to tree, before laying on their stomachs and crawling through the tall grass.
The House of Eusou was finally in view. Arcas pointed to the entrance and Priya could see two of the armed men standing guard outside of it. They stood straight, their backs against the frame of the entrance. In their hands rested the reed with the projectiles resting against the string.
Arcas tapped Priya’s shoulder, motioning for her to watch. Picking up a small rock, he threw it as hard as he could towards the sacred space. It hit the roof, bouncing and rolling off it to the ground. At the sound, the two men spun towards it, pulling the string tight, aiming the projectile ahead of them. Rounding the corner, they saw the rock on the ground and relaxed the strings. They looked towards the edge of the village and Priya and Arcas lay flat against the grass, hoping and praying to Eusou that the light of the moon wouldn’t give them away.
But the two strangers didn’t see them. They muttered a few words to each other, too low for either Priya or Arcas to make out, and then returned to their positions by the entrance. The hide pulled open and the Cleric emerged. He was still in his black robes, but his staff wasn’t with him. He gestured to the roof, talking angrily at the two guards. The only words Priya could make out were “accursed heathens.” And then, just as suddenly as the cleric appeared, he was back inside the House of Eusou with the hide covering the entrance.
Tapping Priya’s arm, Arcas pointed back towards the forest.
Priya followed him, retracing their steps until they were deep into the forest and far from earshot.
“You were right,” Priya said. “They are weapons.”
“Aye.” Arcas scratched at light stubble covering his chin. “They can aim and send the projectiles over long distances.”
“It would make hunting easier.”
“Easier, yes, but it does not allow our prey the dignity of the chase.”
Priya nodded in agreement.
“What are Artamos and Galia saying about these strangers?” she asked.
“They keep telling me that I should trust Eusou. They have not done anything to cause us to distrust them.”
“Even after Cleric Ingolf threw the medicine into the fire?”
“‘Our ways are strange to them,’ Galia told me.” Arcas sighed, shaking his head. “I do not believe in that line of logic. His actions were purposeful and measured.”
“We are taught to love ourselves, to love others, to love Terra, to love The Mother and Eusou. Is it his love that is making me guarded to these strangers? Or am I resisting that love? Is his love hidden from me because I am afraid? Is the lesson in this that love is not only necessary, but also a possibility, if only we are able to let go and trust in Eusou?”
Arcas took Priya’s hand in his. “I am afraid, too. But I am afraid because this cleric says that he speaks with the voice of God, but I do not feel Eusou in his words.”
Priya turned Arcas’ hand over so that his open palm faced hers. His wrist rested against hers and with her free hand, she began to trace the lines of his palm as he watched her.
Caught in the simple movement of tracing Arcas’ callouses and creases, Priya whispered, “When Galia had her passage, I had a terrible vision. There was this dark presence there and it was hurting me and fighting me throughout the night. I felt its hate and its maliciousness. I felt that it wanted to hurt me, the women there, and the entire vale. But the more I sat with it and the more I talked to The Mother, the more I felt that it wasn’t a darkness that was separate from Eusou. I feel like it was Eusou, presenting himself as this dark presence so I could learn a valuable lesson.”
“What was that lesson?”
“The presence was more powerful than me, more powerful than The Mother, because I let it be. It said, ‘I am the most powerful force here,’ and I believed it instead of believing in my own strength and power. If I trusted in Eusou. If I trusted in The Mother. If I trusted in myself more, I would have been able to banish it faster than I did that night. If there is a parallel in my lesson from that night to today and these strangers, we should trust Eusou and our strength.”
“Meaning?” Arcas asked.
“That if we distrust these strangers then it is not without reason. We should hold firm in our feelings and our faith in Eusou. We should keep one eye on Eusou and one eye on the cleric. Ingolf’s intentions will be clear soon. Either he or Eusou will reveal the truth about their presence here.”
A crack echoed in the silence. A branch, snapping underfoot.
Arcas pulled his hand from Priya’s and crouched, looking through the branches and shadows.
“Fear not, children.” Cleric Ingolf stepped out from behind a nearby tree, his black robes brushing the forest floor. “I bring tidings of comfort and joy for all that are willing to hear. Nothing more.”
“Did you follow us?” Arcas asked, his hand resting on the handle of his knife.
“Did you throw a rock onto my roof to disturb my sleep?” the cleric asked in return.
Arcas stands, crossing his arms in front of him.
Turning to look behind her, Priya squinted in the dark, trying to see if there was anyone else hiding in the forest.
“It is just me,” Cleric Ingolf said. “I went on a walk to pray and I heard you two conversing.” He is quiet, studying them. “You do not trust me, do you?” Neither Arcas nor Priya reply. “Why would you not trust a servant of God?” He leans on his staff, his eyes glinting in the moonlight as he waits for them to reply.
Priya finally spoke, breaking the silence. “I do not trust you because Eusou and The Mother do not trust you.”
“And how do you know that they do not trust me?” the cleric asked.
“Because they speak to me in my heart of hearts.”
“How do you know that it is them?”
“Because they are Love,” Priya replies.
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“Even love can put on a false face to deceive us. This Mother you speak of is a false god. There is no one except God. The Mother is a charlatan. A whore. This Eusou you speak of is a false prophet who once wore the face of God, but he is not God. There is only one true God and it is with His power that I speak. You have followed the darkness for so long, but I am here to lead you to salvation.”
“And where is this salvation?” Arcas asked.
Cleric Ingolf lifted his staff, pointing to the peaks that stood illuminated against the moon’s light. “It is beyond the mountains, in the great cities that were once abandoned. It is God’s kingdom, made manifest on this Earth. Where there is plenty of food to eat, clean water to drink. The streets are paved with gold and the people dance with peace and joy for the Lord’s blessing.”
“But we are happy here,” Priya said. “We have everything we need. We have fresh, clean water. We have all the food we can eat. We are happy. We are at peace.”
“What do you do, child?” Ingolf asked. “What gifts do you bring to your village?”
“I have taken the Path of the Crone,” Priya replied. When the cleric cocked his head to the side, a questioning look on his face, she added, “A healer. I am studying to become a plant healer.”
Cleric Ingolf shook his head. “Only God can heal. A woman’s place is not to study the healing arts. It is for a man, for only a man can understand the mysteries of our physical forms.”
Arcas laughed. “If a man tried to be a healer, they wouldn’t know what to do. Priya is good. So is Tohki.”
Disdainfully, Cleric Ingolf looked at Arcas. “And what are you, boy? The village fool?”
“I hunt. I help bring food to the village.”
“On the other side of the mountains, in the olden cities, cattle are bred for slaughter. No one goes without meat. Everyone has their fill.”
Arcas shook his head. “That may be your way, but that is not ours. We have followed Eusou and The Mother for hundreds of years since our ancestors settled in this vale.”
“God does not want you to toil in darkness. He wants you to see His Light.”
“His light shines down on us from the heights,” Priya said, her tone sharpening.
“Eusou is darkness, child,” Cleric Ingolf retorted vehemently. “Your ancestors ran away from God. I am here to bring you back. You will not stand in the way of the salvation I am bringing to you.”
Priya pulled on Arcas’ hand. “Let’s go.”
Arcas released the handle of his knife.
Holding out his hand, Cleric Ingolf beckoned them. “Children, let me show you the Light of God.”
Priya looked at Arcas warily. Settling her self into the stillness within, she saw Eusou still seated in the seat of her soul, watching. What should I do? she asked. But Eusou did not answer. Have faith, she told herself. Remember the lesson. Remember that Eusou and The Mother are more powerful.
“Lead on, then,” Priya replied.
Cleric Ingolf turned and began to walk back towards the village. Priya and Arcas followed close behind.
“What are you doing?” Arcas whispered.
“I am trusting Eusou.”
The cleric was quiet as he walked, aside from the swishing of his robe against the forest floor and the quiet, rhythmic thudding of his staff.
Priya and Arcas followed closely behind. Leaving the forest, they passed through the tall grass that they had in earlier, stepping over the spring.
The moon still hung high in the sky and the village was quiet except for their passage as they made their way to the House of Eusou. Outside, the armed men stood, watching and waiting for the clerics return.
When they saw him, two of the men stepped towards him, but Cleric Ingolf waved them off. “I am fine.” He gestured to Priya and Arcas. “These are—” He pauses, turning back to them. “I never asked your names.”
Arcas raised his hand in greeting to the other men. “I am Arcas. This is Priya.”
Cleric Ingolf pointed toward Arcas. “Arcas is a hunter for this village. And Priya is their healer.”
The taller of the two men looked Arcas up and down. “What is it you use to hunt?” he asked. “All we saw when we arrived were spears.”
Arcas nodded. “Aye. That is what we use. We bless our food with a good hunt before we bring them down. We let Eusou see how worthy they are.”
The other man snorted. “Primitive.”
“And what do you use?” Arcas asked, pointing the strung reed that hung from the man’s shoulder. “That? Bringing the animal down from a distance, like a coward?”
Cleric Ingolf raised his hands. “Now, now. Enough of that. Ulan, why don’t you take Arcas in the woods and show him how your bow works?”
The tall man nodded. “Aye, Ingolf.”
Arcas looked to Priya. “I am not leaving her alone with you.”
“I am a man of God,” Cleric Ingolf replied. “She will be safe.”
Priya nodded. “I will be fine.”
Ulan unslung the bow from his shoulder, hooking the string from one end to the other, plucking it and letting it vibrate. Ulan handed it to Arcas who weighed it, balancing it in his hand, turning it this way and that. Settling the wooded part in his hand, Arcas pulled on the string. It moved slightly, the wood bending with the pressure.
Arcas nodded, pleased. “How far away can you bring down an animal?”
“Forty or fifty paces,” Ulan said. “Depends on the animal. In war, we would aim these into the sky and let the arrows rain down on our enemy. From any distance, these can be deadly.”
“War?” Priya asked. “Is there not peace where you are from?”
“Sometimes people need to be brought to their knees before they can know God,” Cleric Ingolf replied.
“That does not seem like the way of a benevolent and loving God,” Priya said.
“You have lived in isolation from God,” Cleric Ingolf snapped. “Do not question God or the power of which he has bestowed upon me.”
Ulan gestured to Arcas. “Come. I will show you how to shoot this thing and make a better hunter out of you.” He looked to the other armed man. “Viggo, come with us?”
Viggo looked at Cleric Ingolf for his permission. The cleric nodded and the Viggo began walking towards the forest.
“We will bring back some food for the morning,” Ulan said. He laughed. “That is if his aim is any good.” He clapped a hand on the young man’s shoulder, directing Arcas to follow Viggo’s footprints.
Arcas glanced behind him at Priya.
“I’ll be fine,” she whispered.
Cleric Ingolf lifted the bearskin flap that hung over the entrance of the House of Eusou. “Come inside and let us talk.”
Priya ducked inside. Nothing much had changed inside the sacred space. A fire burned in the center and a pallet, presumably for the cleric, laid beside it.
Cleric Ingolf entered, quickly followed by two of the armed men. The flap closed behind them. The two men stood by the entrance.
Priya felt immediately on edge. She backed away, around the fire, until her back rested against the wall of the sacred space.
The Cleric planted his staff in the dirt, letting the image of the hanged man face Priya. The firelight played with the symbol’s features. As the fire flickered, Priya saw the hanged man, Eusou, the cleric’s God, cry out in sorrow, open his mouth screaming, and call out for mercy.
Cleric Ingolf unbuttoned his cloak, letting it fall to the pallet. Beneath it he wore loose black linens. Fingering his sleeves, he rolled them up past the elbow. His eyes were always on Priya, watching, observing, rendering judgment.
“Let me tell you a story,” he said. “Many years ago, during the great wars, people, like your ancestors, sought to escape the death and destruction that awaited them in the great cities. They sought their own, peaceful gardens where they could grow and thrive. And they did. They turned their eye from God and turned it back to themselves. They became like gods. And they worshiped the land, calling it Mother.” He paused. “Does this sound familiar?”
Priya nodded.
“While they lived and thrived in their gardens, the world began to piece itself back together. The cities that were destroyed were rebuilt and those that lived there came back to God. Now, we are bringing God back to those that turned their backs to him. People like you. For the past ten winters, I have journeyed to these distant gardens, bringing them the Word of God. And sometimes we meet resistance; people that are too set in their ways. People that believe that they know God. People that do not see the sin that they wallow in; like swine wallowing in their waste. And sometimes an example needs to be made.”
Cleric Ingolf’s eyes grew hard and Priya felt her insides grow cold.
His voice lowered as he growled, “Take off your clothes.”
Priya’s voice caught in her throat before she stuttered, “What?”
“Take off your clothes,” Cleric Ingolf repeated.
“No,” Priya said, crossing her arms defensively in front of her. “My body is my own. It is my vessel to be of service to Eusou and our community.”
Ingolf stepped toward her. “Your body is not your own. It is mine to do what I will with it. I will show you the Light of God.”
“If you touch me, I will scream and I will bring the whole village down upon you.”
The cleric shook his head. “If you scream, my men will rain arrows upon all those you hold dear. You bring blood and death upon your people. Now, take off your clothes.”
Priya ran from him, towards the entrance, but the armed men grabbed her roughly by the arms, pinning her arms to her sides.
Cleric Ingolf came to her, grabbing a fistful of her hair, twisting her head to the side, then back. “I have come to save you! Do you hear me?”
Eyes wide, she nodded her head, complying so that they would stop hurting her. “Please stop,” she begged. “Please let me go.”
She felt a foot connect with the back of her knee, causing her to buckle and fall to the ground. More kicks and fists rained down on her. She brought her hands up defensively, trying to cover her head, but they were batted away. The cleric grabbed her by the hair, holding her up, his eyes wide with rage
His eyes.
She couldn’t look away.
They were not the eyes of God.
They did not look with her with love.
They hated her.
Cleric Ingolf’s face was red and splotching. He spat in her face before throwing her to the ground. Priya’s head bounced against the hard earth, pinpricks of light flashing in her eyes like fireflies. She tasted blood in her mouth.
A hand held her face down as her arms were jerked behind her, a rope binding them behind her back. Her shoulder screamed in protest and she bit back a cry.
Grabbing Priya again by her hair, Cleric Ingolf pulled her head back and stuffed a dirty cloth into her mouth. She moaned into it, unable to form words or call for help.
She’d never been bound before, had never had anyone hold her down before, had never felt pain like this before. A shiver of terror skittered along her spine as she bucked against the hands that held her down, twisting this way and that, trying to throw them off, but they were too heavy. Priya arched her back in a useless attempt to ease the pressure of the ropes around her wrists. Her teeth ground together.
Then the pressure on top of her stopped. It was silent. Relief filled her as she felt the horror pass.
But it hadn’t passed. Rough hands gripped her around the waist, tearing and pawing at her trousers, pulling them down to her ankles. Her bare bottom prickled at the cold. She kicked out, hearing a loud grunt as she made contact with someone, but then a figure was in front of her, one of the armed men. He shoved her face back down into the earth, straddling her head while wrapping his hands around her waist, lifting her hips up. She felt cold hands on either side of her backside and then pain.
Horror spread through her as she realized what was happening. Her face scraped against the ground as she fell limp, her body no longer her own.
She felt warm arms wrap themselves around her soul and she retreated there, leaving her body where it lay as it continued to be abused by the man who claimed to have been from God.
And there, within the deep recesses of her soul, far away from the mortal world, she lay in The Mother’s embrace.