Three Converts

Part 17

"Shame on you," she began quietly. Then louder, "You pathetic little rat!" If I hadn't been so shocked I may have laughed. Franklin's serenity cracked a bit. He gave a huff and walked swiftly away from us, his robe kicking up a little storm of dust. Father and Sophie looked impressed. I was too. We were in no mood to smile, but my Mother's actions cheered us all a bit. If nothing else it was a distraction.

The remainder of the day was uneventful. Miserable, boring, and physically painful, but uneventful. My family stayed with me. If anybody's gaze lingered too long, or there was so much as a look of approval at my discomfort, one vicious look sent the busybody away. Most people though, were compassionate. Mother's friends stopped to hug her, Father's friends offered pats on the backs and angry head shakes. I saw one or two of Sophie's friends wave from afar, but it was clear they were scared to associate with the scofflaw in the pillory. I wondered how many friends she might lose because of me.

Finally, when it was close to dusk and I'd been in the torturous trap for almost twenty-four full hours, Brother Augustus walked toward me with the oldest key I'd ever seen. Father met him and I heard bold whispers, picking up on words like "archaic" and "unfair." I appreciated my Father's words, but truly I wanted out of this headlock more than anything. Brother Augustus held a hand up to my Father and moved toward me.

"Have you learned your lesson, Lucy?"

What did he think I was going to say? I thought sarcastically. I would tell him anything to get out of here. And I had learned a lesson, just not the one the council intended.

"Yes," I whispered. I was parched. My throat felt dry and cracked as the path to town.

With the turn of the key, Brother Augustus unlocked the top half of the wooden chamber. My Father swung it up, nearly knocking the councilman's head off. Sophie and Mother pulled me back. My wrists and neck ached to be moved, but when I tried, it hurt so much I stopped. Mother had a glass of water ready for me and she whispered, "slow, slow" when I guzzled it. Father pulled me aggressively to his chest. My aching body cried out, but there was comfort in the discomfort. If I hadn't been so exhausted, I would have giggled at the stupid contradiction. As it was, I could hardly stand. Mother and Father held me up and somehow or other, I made it back home, into my bed. My heavenly, heavenly bed.

I slept for two days.

When I finally woke, it was at my usual waking hour. The sun had just stretched its arms, so I could see its fingertips over the mountains. The goats were bleating, Sophie looked like a sleeping angel in the bed next to me. It was a beautiful morning.

Outside, I stretched and tenderly rolled my wrists, then my head, in slow circles. I stood as upright as I'd ever been, arched my back, basked in the privilege of tilting my chin toward the sun. My mouth watered at my breakfast of bread and cheese. All the donuts in the world wouldn't taste as good as that breakfast did. The morning was crisp, and I wondered if that was because I was seeing so much clearer now. I looked at the small huts my neighbors lived in, let myself remember the robed bodies that rushed past me as I stood humiliated in the pillory. I reflected on my realizations. The council was wrong. I served a different Diety than them. Part of me was surprised those truths still stood. They didn't waver without the pillory there to hold them in place.

I had to leave the mountain.