Woman Who Gave Birth to Rabbits - Donoghue [19]
The next day Friend Mother is lighting her pipe when they hear their neighbour farmers outside Buchan Ha, knocking on the heavy planks. "What heathen goings-on are ye hiding behind barred doors?" roars one man. "Debauchees!" shouts another, hoarsely.
George Kidd, the former ploughman, climbs to his feet to answer them, but Friend Mother shakes her head and puts her finger to her lips.
"They're bearing false witness against us," he protests.
"No matter," she says gently, as if to a child. "What does it matter what the folk that walk in darkness think of us?"
"But—"
"They 11 know their error soon enough, poor souls."
Strange, thinks Hugh, that no one wanted to come into Buchan Ha until the way was barred against them. That reminds him of something, but he can't remember what. He is a little light-headed today; distracted by an aching drumbeat in his skull.
A violent thump on the back wall makes the Buchanites jump. "Let us in the house," comes a deeper voice, "or we'll burn ye out!"
One of the children starts to cry, but Friend Mother smiles placidly and shakes her head. After a while the abuse dies away; the farmers must have given up and gone home. Hugh sniffs the air for the first whiff of smoke, but there is no fire. He begins to read aloud from the Book of Jeremiah, and Friend Mother goes round with molasses-water, just to moisten everyone's throats for the hymn-singing. They sing higher, and ignore the growling of their bowels.
The first days of the Great Fast go by, and Hugh has never felt so sure of his calling; he knows he must nourish his flock with words. Solid words, sweet words, language tough enough to chew on. No matter how badly his head hurts him, he preaches to his Brothers and Sisters in the morning, at noon, and in the evening—the very times when they used to stuff their weak flesh with bread and bacon and small beer. Occasionally a few farmers come by and shout threats or accusations. Once a woman's voice squeals at the window, "How many bastard infants have ye buried under the floor?"—and Hugh starts laughing, helplessly, and has to cover his mouth with his hand.
At sunset, when the Buchanites can be sure of being alone on their land, he unbars the door and leads them up Templand Hill for a little fresh air. "I have found out another great secret," he tells them one evening, his voice high with excitement, and their pale faces lift and catch the last of the western light. "I have discovered, on reading Scripture, that Friend Mother is spoken of there."
A hiss of astonishment from the flock.
"I had read it before, but with a man's eyes only," Hugh berates himself. "Now I know the truth. Just as evil came into the world through a woman, so it is a woman who must save us. Listen, now, to this passage from the Book of Revelations:
A great portent then appeared in heaven: a woman, robed with the sun,
with the moon under her feet and a crown of twelve stars on her head.
See where she comes!"
And he thrusts out his arm to where Friend Mother is walking up Templand Hill in a new gown of yellow stuff, glowing like the last of the sun. She looks as fresh-faced as she ever did before the Great Fast began; he marvels at her beauty, which is not the easy prettiness of youth but a sterner stuff. "See the stars!" Count them!" Hugh urges, running up to her and fingering the twelve places in her loosened hair where black has turned to silver. She submits to his touch, just as the two of them have practised, and then she lifts one warm sole to him as calmly as a mare. "The final proof," he roars, putting his finger to it, "the crescent, the mark of the moon under her right foot!"
The smaller Buchan girl, at the back, lets out a hiccup.
Friend Mother's voice seems deeper today, silkier. "Grace and peace to you from Him who is and who was and who is coming soon," she begins.
"Grace and peace," the congregation murmurs.
"My Children, ye followed me," she says, stepping up close and looking them in the eyes, each woman and man in turn. "Ye followed me, leaving your doors open, your Washing on