Acolytes (The Enclaves Book 1) Page 5

  ‘The victims of Outcast raids here in the Enclave, by which I mean those who have been abducted, rather than those killed or injured, have all been acolytes,’ Sister Allit continued.

  The room was still, shock and anxiety on every face. My heart thumped wildly, then slowed down. My hands felt cold. Smarja, who was assigned to Crafts with Gaia, finally raised her hand.

  ‘Mistress Allit, have we, I mean, our sisters, have they really been killed by Outcasts?’

  ‘Which is of more concern to you Smarja, the deaths, the injuries, or the abductions?’ Sister Allit’s stern expression was even colder with her raised eyebrow.

  ‘Umm, all of them, Sister. They’re all terrifying. I didn’t realise the Outcasts were so ... so serious. I didn’t know about ...’

  Mistress Allit turned her icy stare onto each of us in turn.

  ‘What did you think we were doing all this for, girls? Did you not think there would have to be some grave concern to warrant this much sustained effort over the entire history of our Enclave?’

  We were silent, abashed by our lack of awareness.

  ‘You need to take the Outcasts very, very seriously. They are the greatest threat that we face. They raid us, intermittently it’s true, but nonetheless frequently enough for us to continue to be vigilant. On those raids, they kill and injure us indiscriminately, they steal our resources, and they abduct young women just like you.’

  I got cold shudders just thinking about it. Imagine if you got dragged off to the Outcasts camp; what would they do to you? They’d probably torture you or something. It was too awful to think about for long, but it made the training seem much more sombre. It wasn’t just fitness, and it wasn’t just academic calculations. It was our defence against some of the most horrible things I could imagine. And now I really understood why they kept acolytes in the support functions in the Core and didn’t let us out in the actual Perimeter Squad. I resolved to pay much closer attention from now on in our training.

  Punishment

  Tomma, Spring, Year One, Initiates

  TWO WEEKS LATER, WE were all required to be present during the rarest of rituals—punishment by sterilisation and expulsion. The Council of Chief Mistresses had decreed that everyone had to be there. But at least they had let us stand behind the columns, thank the Goddess. We couldn’t see anything, but we could hear it all. Perhaps imagining what was being done to the poor woman who shrieked continuously was worse than seeing it. Her screams rang and rang in the vast Temple chamber, till I had to put my fingers in my ears. But that felt wrong: if she had to suffer, then I wanted to be strong enough to be a witness for her suffering. But I couldn’t; I only wanted to run away.

  ‘Oh, Goddess, please let her die soon!’ Rosie whispered it over and over, her fists pressed against her mouth. My throat was clamped shut with horror and I couldn’t speak. The cries slowly dropped to sobs. The Chief Temple Mistress paraded across the full width of the Temple holding the waxy blood-streaked baby high above her head so everyone could see, and said in her dreadful deep voice, ‘A boy. A boy! Let him be expelled!’

  ‘Expelled, expelled.’ A sighing whisper of agreement followed her pacing.

  One of the Healing House Apprentices, with tears in her eyes, motioned for all of us Initiates and Novices to leave.

  Rosie and Gaia and I took off. We ran down the road without speaking, through the grain fields, to our special place in the hollow beside the Wall. Rosie was sobbing, and she vomited. Even the late spring breeze couldn’t blow that smell away, so we moved a bit further along. Gaia was pale and trembling. Me, too. I was grateful for the warm stone wall behind me.

  ‘Will she die?’ Rosie asked, swallowing hard. Her voice was scratchy.

  Gaia nodded sharply, once. ‘How could you live through that? It was terrible. You would have to die.’

  ‘You would want to die.’ I was thinking about the baby too, and how quickly they had taken him away.

  ‘But Tomma, why was her pregnancy wrong? She’s a robed woman,’ Rosie said.

  I didn’t know! But I did know I didn’t feel as safe amongst my sisters anymore. Robed women have passed through all nine years of the Acolytes and graduated; they must know everything. They are our teachers, judges, smiths, healers, farmers, bakers, everything. In all our lifetime, there had never been such a terrible and rare punishment. So, what had she done?

  ‘Remember when that Apprentice went over the Wall?’ Gaia spoke so softly we could hardly hear. We huddled closer; we had been forbidden to speak about this.

  ‘I overheard some Apprentices from the House of Learning talking about her,’ Gaia said, ‘before the Most banned us from talking. They said she would have been sterilised in the same way, if they’d ever caught her.’

  This was more than Gaia had spoken in hours. It was so like her to have found out something the rest of us would never have known. So, leaving was thought to be equally as awful as whatever that poor woman today had done. I felt washed with cold and hugged closer to Rosie to stop my shaking. I had never known this, this—I didn’t know what to call it—this brutality could be part of our Enclave. We kept glancing at each other, taking a breath to speak, then closing our mouths. What can you say when suddenly everything feels dangerous?

  Later, Gaia added, ‘The woman today, she hadn’t escaped.’

  ‘What did she do?’ Rosie’s voice was soft again.

  ‘It was because of the baby,’ I said, ‘It has to be. She must have got pregnant in some wrong way. But I don’t understand how; we only see men at the Summer Festival, and it is expected women will get pregnant then. I heard one of the Healing Apprentices say the baby would be put outside the wall immediately – they won’t even let him feed. He’ll die, they said.’

  Gaia’s head was bent. ‘A novice from the Children’s Rooms tried to tell me that the Expelled eat babies who are put out.’

  Rosalind gasped. ‘Oh, no! They mustn’t; it would anger the Goddess Mother!’

  Gaia glanced at her, one eyebrow raised at her exaggerated religious fervour, and continued slowly. ‘But I don’t believe it. The Expelled all began here in the Enclave, didn’t they? They know that all children are sacred to the Goddess; they couldn’t do something so ...’ she paused and swallowed, ‘... so evil. They wouldn’t.’

  ‘But the woman must have broken some very important rule, or she wouldn’t be sterilised and expelled,’ I said.

  We fell silent again, and I watched the flax shadows shortening. My stomach rumbled. We hadn’t felt like eating breakfast, knowing the dreadful ceremony was coming. But we didn’t have any food with us, and we still didn’t want to go back to the Core. It didn’t feel protective like it used to. The only safe place in the world right now seemed to be here with my two closest sister-friends.

  We talked about what we knew of the Expelled. They had always been the biggest threat that elder sisters had used to control us ‘If you don’t behave, I’ll put you out over the wall for the Expelled to find!’ It worked too; almost no one would continue misbehaving after that.

  We knew the women of the Expelled had broken some fundamental rule and had been banished. They lived in villages, which also contained men from somewhere, clustered around the outside of the Wall, and we thought they must be desperate to be allowed back in. But we had also heard rumours that they were wild and lawless and cruel and couldn’t care less about the Enclave. No one wanted to be sent out to join them.

  But even they weren’t as bad as the Outcasts.

  ‘Did you hear that there was an Outcast raid last week?’ Rosie’s voice was hushed and shaking, and her blue eyes were nearly as wide as they could go.

  ‘It wasn’t a raid, and it wasn’t the Outcasts,’ Gaia said in the firm voice that she used to deal with all Rosie’s fears. ‘It was just some Expelled, who were seen from the northern perimeter, and they weren’t even armed.’

  ‘Expelled, Outcasts, what’s the difference?’ Rosie’s tone was rising. ‘They’re all the sa
me, and I hate them all!’

  Gaia looked taken aback.

  ‘They are not all the same, Rosie, and you know it. Stop working yourself up again. Even the Expelled don’t like the Outcasts. Anyway, Perimeter Squad training will teach us what to do. Then you’ll know how to deal with them, if you ever get to see them.’

  I think it was meant to reassure, but Rosie looked more anxious than ever.

  As the afternoon wore on, we tried to talk about Summer Festival, drawing on the information we had been given in our weekly lectures. But every thought petered out and we fell silent, overshadowed by the horror of the morning. We slowly made our way back up the road to the Core. Our walk back felt so different to our flight down the road. As we approached, I looked up at the buildings of the Core, rising out of the crest of the hill in stone and timber, taken directly from the land they stood on. They seemed an elemental part of the landscape, glowing in deep ochre colours in the setting sun, shaded by great spreading trees that grew everywhere. These buildings had always signalled security to me, that deep contented feeling you have when you’re in the right place. But now, the looming bulk of the Temple in the centre of the Core seemed more like a crouching menace than a place of refuge.

  We went into the Refectory for dinner. It was usually a noisy place, as acolytes talked, shared meals, called out to friends and occasionally had food fights. But this was the most subdued meal I’d ever had. Barely a word was spoken, and everyone remembered their manners. Punishment seemed all too close.

  Summer Festival

  Tomma, Summer, Year One, Initiates

  IN THE AGRICULTURE House, after my debacles in the dairy, they had finally decided I should focus on shepherding. I think it was because there wasn’t much I could mess up there. I had a favourite sheepdog that I usually took with me. She was black and white, and full of energy. She had tremendous concentration when we were working the sheep. Our working dogs were identified by a number, and she was number 572. But I couldn’t call that out when we were shepherding, so I called her Leto. I had read somewhere that Leto was an ancient Greek goddess, who was the mother of Artemis the protector of young girls. My Leto had had a litter of pups last year and she was my protector when we were out working in the fields—that seemed rationale enough. Leto she was. Often, after we had got the sheep settled somewhere, we would play chase and I would try to teach her tricks. She could stand up on her back legs and waltz around with me or jump through a circle of my arms.

  One day in mid-summer, the Chief Mistress of Agriculture told me to take the sheep down to the flat pasture in front of the Enclave Gate. ‘Let them graze there all this week, Tommasika. We want the grass really short; Festival is coming.’

  Summer Festival! I spent long hours on the pasture that week with Leto. I moved the sheep from place to place making sure the turf was roughly an even height, wondering what Festival would be like, now we were Acolytes. Festival had always been great fun as a child: so different from any other day. We got to attend the Fair during the daylight, and then we had a special dinner in the Children’s Rooms before our usual bedtime. But I had never realized then that there was a whole other aspect to the Festival. As I tended the sheep that week, and watched the preparations around me, my curiosity grew about what an adult Summer Festival would be like. It had been a great surprise to learn that this was where almost all pregnancies in the Enclave originated.

  It seemed obvious to me, once I had learned about Summer Festival, that the Enclave must have had some way of ensuring pregnancies. We lived solely with women, and we had to keep replacing our population. But it still amazed me to think that men would be coming into our Enclave solely for procreation. Men! What would they be like? How on earth would you start a conversation with one? I couldn’t imagine ever feeling confident enough, even way in the future, to ask a man if they’d like to impregnate me.

  I kept ruminating about this as I watched the preparations. One group of women were stringing ropes on wooden posts they pounded into the ground, to mark the boundaries of the Festival Field, the flat area of pasture close to the Gate that my sheep were grazing. Others were trimming the bushes above ground level, and further up the slight hill, others were laying out the wooden panels for the dance floors. The ox-wagons were busy all week, bringing timber-poled tents, open fronted stalls, trestles and barrels to the food area that was closer to the Core. The timber workers brought a mule dray with sack after sack of sawdust to lay on the paths between the food stalls. The cooks must have been particularly excited all week, dreaming up gigantic recipes for hot snacks, because the bakers were drawing out enormous supplies of flour from the storehouses and butter from the dairy cold room.

  On the weekly foundation learning day, acolytes were usually separated for lessons tailored to suit their House. But now, our time was split between House learning and Summer Festival induction. Since transition, we’d had endless theoretical lectures about the spiritual meaning of Summer Festival, rehearsals about the rituals we would attend for the first time, and introductory information about how heterosexual intercourse was undertaken. I had heard rumours of course from older girls about what happened between women and men, but it was a bit shocking to have it spelled out with diagrams. Gaia had looked very uncomfortable during the session, but I didn’t get a chance to ask her what was bothering her.

  The session started with a review of how we had learned about becoming women. Several girls shared how they had felt at our early introductory sessions when we had learned about our impending puberty. For most it had been a shock, but some, like Julienne, had loved the fact that they were becoming curvaceous fertile women. I had glanced at Rosie and Gaia, trying to remember how I felt about that new information. It had been at least a year and a half ago. Rosie was looking neutrally at Sister Onnia, but Gaia had her head down, and her hair hanging forward so I couldn’t catch her attention. Later, when our goddess-bleeding had actually started, we each had an individual session with a Mistress from the House of Healing, who had explained about our monthly courses, what to expect and how to manage them. I remembered that had been both interesting, and a bit scary.

  Then there was a rather boring review of things we already knew so well we took them for granted, like: ‘It is every woman’s right to attend Festival, but no one is required to attend’. There was a more in-depth discussion about whether it was fair for some women to spend time at Festival hoping to get pregnant by the visiting men, while their regular work was done for them. Previously I don’t think I had even noticed that older women replaced the tutors from the Children’s Rooms on Summer Festival evening, after we had been sent to bed. Our tutor for Summer Festival, Temple Mistress Onnia, was very firm, reiterating that ‘every child is the product of every woman’s work’. I had heard this forever, but I always thought it just meant I could ask any woman for assistance. But now it sank in that what it really meant was that the work of all women preparing for Festival allowed some to go, to get pregnant and increase both the Female and Male Enclaves. And that bearing children was real work too. Onnia kept repeating in her smooth voice that each form of work was valued—whether minding the children or lying with the men.

  Julienne, who had been assigned to the House of Sustenance and was looking very well fed, asked if we Initiate Acolytes were supposed to lie with the men. Onnia nearly imploded.

  ‘No! No. You are not nearly ready yet for that!’ It was the first time I’d seen Onnia at all flustered. She went on and on about how only women who wanted a child that year would go to the Summer Field with a man. As usual, Julienne kept asking questions, trying to find a way around the rules. Gaia and I grinned at each other when she winked to her best friend.

  Sister Onnia went on to describe the various activities we would participate in, which culminated in the dedication ceremony in the Temple. We were also instructed to discuss in groups what we would do if a boy or a man approached us. It took forever to realise that they would probably either ask to dance, sh
are refreshments or request we go to the Field with them. We all ended up giggling with awkwardness – we’d never even spoken to men, so how could we possibly know how to respond to such offers? Eventually, with much prompting we worked out what we might say, yes to the dance and refreshments, and a definite no to going to the Field. Part of me secretly hoped I might talk with a man; I was curious to meet one!

  The next lessons concerned the outcomes of Summer Festival—with a strong emphasis on the fact that pregnancy and birth were the purpose, not having a good time on the night of Festival. Onnia stared straight at Julienne as she said that. There was a sobering discussion about what happened to babies after birth.

  ‘As I’m sure you all know by now, there are several different pathways for infants after birth. Can you list them for me?’ She glanced around the group.

  Marien’s hand shot up. ‘Oooh, yes, Mistress Onnia, I know!’

  Onnia looked disappointed, but nobody else put their hand up.

  ‘Very well, Marien, share what you know.’

  Marien sat up very straight. ‘All babies stay with their mothers till they are weaned. Then girl babies go to the Children’s Rooms to be raised communally, and boy babies are relinquished to the Male Enclave.’ She beamed at Mistress Onnia, her chubby cheeks flushed with pride.

  ‘Yes, that much is true. But what about babies who are born with disabilities?’

  I saw Gaia’s head come up and she stared bleakly at Mistress Onnia. No-one had any response.

  Sister Onnia looked very grave. ‘I’m sure you already know this, and it is a serious aspect of our religion.

  ‘All the babies are birthed around forty weeks after Summer Festival. A very few babies are born with deformities or disabilities. This is evidence that their mothers have sinned against the Goddess. We watch all babies, normal or otherwise, very carefully up till weaning. We assess them thoroughly, evaluating the extent of any disability they may have. Obviously, the more serious the disability, the sooner it will be detected. Some are obvious right from birth. And equally obviously, the more serious the disability, the greater the mother’s sin must have been, for the Goddess to punish her so.’