Shadows in the Trees: Book 1

Chapter 6

The bell rang and the vestal's eyes fluttered open. The other vestals around her stirred, slowly rising from their knees after an hour of prayer. Her bones popped and creaked as she came to her feet. She thought she would be used to crouching this way after a few years of praying for five hours a day, but her body was sore every time. 

The vestals made their way to the mess hall in an orderly line. They ate their porridge in silence, as they were not allowed to speak for the first three hours of the day. Following breakfast, they went into town to do the One God's work, cleaning the streets, bringing the homeless to shelters, and making a meal for the orphanage. They returned to the convent for another hour of prayer, followed by a few hours tending to the grounds. She had been lucky enough to be assigned to the gardens, so she spent those few hours outside. Though it was stifling in her thick robes and head covering, digging in the dirt and tending to the plants was always the best part of her day.

Eventually, they were brought back inside for more prayer, then supper, then recreational time while they took turns using the baths. Though many of the sisters used this time to socialize, she liked to spend her evenings reading in the old armchair near the window. The convent didn't have much to read besides The Book of Malachai and a few biographies of Malachai's life, but she had convinced the friar to add a few other history books to their small shelf. She would have liked to read some prose, but fiction simply wouldn't do in a House of the One God. According to the friar, it wasn't suitable for vestals to read anything other than religious texts, though he had grudgingly accepted some nonfiction works. She tried to be satisfied with the meager collection, but it was a far cry from the palatial library she had grown up with. 

Bored with reading The History of Greze for the third time, she slammed it shut and made her way to the rickety table where a few of the other sisters were sitting. They gaped as she took a seat beside them. 

"What has gotten into you, Sister Alba?" Sister Ianthe crowed. "I never thought our company would rival those of your books." 

The other vestals tittered. She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I was never one for talking." 

"We've noticed," Ianthe said. "I suppose the life of a vestal suits you, then. Plenty of time for silence and contemplation." 

"Is that why you joined?" Sister Cybil asked, a gentle smile raising her plump, rosy cheeks.

"I felt the call of the One God, like the rest of you," Alba said tightly. 

"I remember when I first heard the call," Cybil said. "It was the greatest moment of my life." 

The other sisters nodded, and Alba smiled. "Mine as well."

This had been her story for so long, it almost didn't feel like a lie. In truth, a convent was the only place that guaranteed anonymity, food, and shelter, things she needed to survive. She hoped to find freedom in her new identity, perhaps even purpose, but sometimes she wondered if she had sought it in the wrong place.

"Sister Alba," Sister Clotilde called. "The bath is yours." 

She nodded to the other vestals, grateful for an excuse to leave them. She decided she would refrain from socializing in the future. 

The bathroom was a small stone room dominated by a large well dug into the floor. A hand pump allowed it to be filled with water and a plug allowed it to be drained, but since it drew from groundwater the entire convent used it had to be pumped sparingly. As such, the sisters would share one bath every night, rotating who got to go first and last. 

By the time it was Alba's turn, the water was a pale gray. She shuddered. She was accustomed to baths drawn just for her, or at the very least bathhouses fed by natural springs, ensuring a constant flow of warm water. Even after years as a vestal, she still loathed to bathe in the communal tub. 

Still, she removed her heavy robes and released her long red hair from its tight coif so she could step into the water. She shivered as she submerged herself. She reached for the lumpy bar of soap and scrubbed herself thoroughly, the lye stinging her skin. All the while, a small statue of the prophet Malachai watched her from a small alcove in the wall. 

She had found the statue unnerving when she first came to the convent. Its eyes seemed to follow her, watching her as she bathed. She suspected this was on purpose, put there to prevent the vestals from pleasuring themselves. She examined the statue, trying to find some life in the stone eyes. She had studied Malachi and his rise to power as a girl, how he was able to unite nations across the continent. It seemed an impossible feat. He had convinced nations who hated each other to fight together, peaceful people to go to war, nations across the continent to follow him and worship his so-called One God.

Once, she thought she was going to be a leader as great as Malachai. But she had left that life behind. 

She remembered watching her brother die in her arms, killed by their older sister. Though it wasn't unheard of for siblings to form alliances, she and her brother had been closer than that, friends even. As the light left his eyes, she saw everything differently. She realized she was a part of game that had no winners, an endless cycle of death and violence and betrayal. She no longer felt the thrill of conquering an enemy, just the pain she caused. It was then she decided that the cost was too high. 

So she left. Started over. She thought she could become something new, something better here. Instead she found herself homesick and just as lonely as before, and worse than that, she was bored. She missed the adrenaline of plotting and watching her back, and she hated herself for it. 

She stepped from the bath, letting the water drip away from her skin for a moment before taking a scratchy towel from the stack next to the bath. Her robes felt suffocating as the heavy fabric fell over skin and she wondered how much more of this she could take. 

She fought back the despair before it could swallow her whole and blinked away the tears. I reinvented myself once before, she thought, there's no reason I can't do it again.