Chapter Nineteen #2
“I don’t think this is the way,” Idris said, gently touching her arm.
But Seraphina had to shoot a few more orders at the approaching nuns.
“You, stand over there and sing us a sea shanty. You, dance.”
The first one belted at the top of her lungs:
“I’ll go no more a-rovin’ with you, fair maid
A-roving, A-roving, since roving’s been my ru-i-in
I’ll go no more a-roving with you, fair maid”
Seraphina almost fell over laughing at the nun’s choice of the Maid of Amsterdam. She couldn’t imagine how she even knew it.
The Mother Superior was aghast, sputtering threats.
“A disgrace! Stop it, sister, or else…”
More nuns moved in, until Seraphina had to take a few steps back. She started having difficulties making eye contact; there were too many.
“Get her,” the Mother Superior yelled.
Someone gripped Seraphina’s arm, but she managed to shake her off. They were closing in, grabbing at her cloak.
This would’ve been a good time for her to turn tail and run.
“The devil!” The priest’s voice rose over everyone’s heads. “The devil is in her!”
That was when she knew the fun was over. Worse, she’d been the only one having fun, as the sisters had taken it seriously, and with the priest’s intervention, they were about to take it even more so.
“The devil speaks through her,” he bellowed. “That is the devil’s tongue in her mouth. Bring her, bring her… We must save her soul!”
Seraphina was hoisted up, carried by the nuns on their hands and shoulders. She kicked and struggled.
“No, you fools! I was just teaching you a lesson!”
“No, no, no…” She heard Idris beg as he ran after them. “No devil, there’s no devil here…”
No one was listening. The priest was shouting instructions. The words “rope” and “holy cross” reached Seraphina’s ears, making her scream and fight harder. Sisters were sobbing, praying, soothing each other.
“God help us, there’s no time to call for the bishop,” she heard the priest say. “Her soul is in danger. We must do this now.”
Father Anton was a simple man in his fifties.
He lived in the nearby village and came up to the convent every day in his cart pulled by a donkey.
He’d taken Seraphina’s confession many times and absolved her of sins that had been thrust upon her.
He was not a bad man, and his intentions now came from an honest belief that he was doing God’s work, saving a woman who’d suffered so much, been broken so irreparably that the devil had found a crack and slipped right into her body.
“My book, bring my book!”
Seraphina was put down on her feet and tied to one of the wooden posts the nuns used for training. She’d kicked and slashed at this very post herself, the wood bearing the marks of her knife.
Holy water splashed her face and neck.
“You, stop!”
Father Anton wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were cast upward as he made the sign of the cross and recited Pater Noster. The sisters spread out in a circle and chanted with him. She saw Idris on the fringes, begging with them.
Seraphina made eye contact with a random nun.
“You, release me.”
The woman moved toward the pole but was stopped by two others.
“You, untie me!”
She was outnumbered, and they were starting to avoid her gaze. Harmless commands weren’t going to work anymore.
“I cast you out, most unclean spirit, every assault of the adversary, every phantom, every legion…” the priest recited from the heavy tome he was holding. He stepped forward and shoved a cross into Seraphina’s face. “Ecce Crucem Domini…”
“You, take Father Anton’s cross and book!”
The nun lunged at the priest, grabbing the book with one hand and reaching for the cross with the other.
He screamed and held on, lifting the cross high above his head.
They did an awkward dance where the nun attempted to throw herself at him, and he pushed the book into her chest to keep her at a distance, then two sisters grabbed her by the arms and carried her away.
“It’s the devil’s tongue,” the Mother Superior repeated Father Anton’s previous words.
A few feet away, the nun Seraphina had told to jump and flail her arms was still doing it.
The sea shanty went on:
“I asked this fair maid to take a walk,
Mark well what I do say
I asked this maid out for a walk
That we might have some private talk.”
Another nun was dancing wildly, while the sister standing on one leg was starting to have difficulties. She was fighting for her life to not fall over.
“God the Father commands you,” the priest bellowed. “God the Son commands you; God the Holy Spirit commands you…”
“The devil’s tongue,” the sisters repeated.
“No, no, no, no, no…” Idris.
“Cede ergo Deo!”
Idris broke through the circle and tried to get to her. He was wrestled back.
“It’s an apex relic,” he shouted. “It’s an apex… It’s a thrall relic!”
He was pulled by the arms, thrown out of the circle. Seraphina couldn’t see him anymore.
“Vade retro!” Father Anton said in a confident voice, splashing her with more holy water. “Begone! Begone!”
“I’ll go no more a-rovin’ with you, fair maid
A-roving, A-roving, since roving’s been my ru-i-in
I’ll go no more a-roving with you, fair maid”
Seraphina felt hands in her hair, pulling her head back against the pole. Someone grabbed her face to immobilize her, and someone else squeezed her jaw until she was forced to open her mouth. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of metal.
“No,” she struggled. “No!”
The Mother Superior shoved her fingers into her mouth. Seraphina bit down, and the woman retreated but returned with a pair of pliers that knocked into Seraphina’s front teeth.
She screamed like she’d screamed in the tower of Schloss Ewigheim, when she’d learned Rune had been given her eyes.
She felt the pliers clamp onto her tongue, then a dagger cut it clean off, in one strike.
Seraphina’s mouth flooded with blood. It welled up and spilled over her chin and chest, went down her throat until she gagged and choked on it.
The sisters released her head, she leaned forward, pulling the ropes taut, and spat right onto the priest’s face.
An open, raw scream tore out of her voice box, a formless single vowel, wet and gargling through the blood in her mouth.
She lifted her head and looked around her, took in every stunned face. Father Anton had gone silent. Idris was on the ground, a grimace of horror etched onto his features. The Mother Superior held her tongue, her hands bloody up to the elbows.
Then she heard him. A deep, thunderous roar ripping through the woods.
She lifted herself on her toes, neck stretched to its limit.
The stump that was left in her mouth had stopped bleeding, and the pain was subsiding.
The implanted apex relic was doing its job, healing her fast. Unfortunately, Seraphina doubted it would grow back her tongue.
Rune burst through the gate. He had difficulties keeping straight as he walked.
He held his hands up in front of him. The nuns moved out of his way, crossing themselves as he passed.
The jumping, flailing nun crashed into him, and he steadied her with one hand on her arm before she pulled free and went back to jumping around.
Seraphina saw the scarf tied around his face.
She saw the stitches, how they held together patches of skin in slightly different shades, how the black thread was one with his flesh.
He was wearing pants, a tunic, and heavy boots.
His throat and the upper part of his chest were visible.
His sleeves were rolled up, and her eyes traced the thick veins on his arms, marveled at how his muscles flexed and the stitches moved.
“Seraphina.”
His voice. She shuddered and let out a moan. How she’d longed to hear him say her name.
“Where are you?” He advanced, head tilted, listening over the relentless sea shanty.
“Here,” she wanted to say, but all that came out of her throat was a prolonged “eeee”.
“What in the heavens…” Briar appeared from behind him.
She and Seraphina locked eyes. Briar covered her mouth with her hand and fell to her knees.
Rune somehow managed to find the pole, and his hands roved over Seraphina’s shoulders, arms, sides. With a gasp, he understood that she was bound. He ripped the rope with ease, Seraphina collapsed into his arms, he lifted her and pressed her to his chest.
“What did they do to you?” he asked.
“Mmm…” was all she could manage.
He turned, leaned forward and let out another roar. Everyone knew to step out of his way. The priest was frozen in place, blinking through the blood she’d spat on him. He looked like he was coming out of a nightmare and plunging straight into another.
Rune carried her across the courtyard and out through the gate.
He turned in place a few times, tilted his head this way and that, and eventually took the path that led to the house on the hill, where Seraphina knew Briar’s mother lived.
She’d never seen Sister Margaret, didn’t know what she looked like.
She wanted to ask Rune why he was taking her there, opened her mouth before remembering no coherent words would come out. She clung to him and sobbed.
“I have you,” he said. “I have you.”
The hand that supported her back came forward so he could orient himself and avoid the trees, so Seraphina wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. After a few minutes, she saw Sister Blandina up on the path. She was sitting in the snow, massaging her ankle.
“I went to bring them,” she said when she saw Seraphina. “I did, but they were already running down the hill. They were faster than me. I fell and couldn’t get up. I tried…”
Seraphina shook her head. She would’ve told Blandina that it was all right and not to torture herself over the failed task. She couldn’t.
Rune ignored the nun and pushed forward through the trees, avoiding them at the last moment, straying from the path then getting back on it.
Seraphina dug her nails into his shoulder blades, buried her face in his neck, inhaled. He smelled like blood and winter. Wildflowers and home.