That afternoon I walked to Du Beauchene's workshop. While we had successfully delayed The Kingdom of Munster in their designs against the wickedness of the earth; There could be no guarantee that failure would stymie Veena's plots. The events of the previous days had only enforced how necessary it was to tend my association with Du Beauchene. Though, to be sure, some of my eagerness was related to my desire to not associate with anyone in the village. The sight of Mr. Bernhardt's body still floated in my mind. It was difficult to wish to commune with those who had once been his friends and loved ones knowing full well that I had caused his death. Not that I felt I had killed him - certainly it was not I who might be blamed for it. I almost felt guilty that I did not own more remorse for his death, but what might I have done? Save drown like a good girl? And certainly I could not acquiesce to that.
I knocked on the door.
"Who is it?"
"Miss Kepler."
"Come in."
I was surprised for Du Beauchene greeted me at the door. Even though the day was cool and he only in his shirtsleeves and vest, he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and dirt. His expression was as hard as ever, but in his eyes shone sympathy, "I was not expecting you today. I am sorry to hear about your grandmother."
"Thank you, Monsieur Du Beauchene. It does my heart good to hear you say that. But I cannot bear to be any longer in my room without occupation. I was hoping I might find something here to distract me."
He allowed a sardonic smile to crack his features, "I am certain something can be found that you might occupy your time with. Would you be opposed to assisting me with the saltpetre preparation? It is long and tedious work, I warn you."
"That sounds like just the thing. Thank you."
"I expect you shall not thank me for long."
Du Beauchene put me to the task of preparing saltpetre, setting me at a stool next to a large cooling vat and instructing me to stir until the saltpetre flour had been deposited while he worked at the fire, stirring a large vat and occasionally scraping off scum from the top. Beside him was a bucket of thick red liquid which he occasionally added to the vat.
"What is that?" I asked, not certain it was a question I wished to hear the answer to recalling the lamb and the young woman who had lain in a similarly shaded pool.
"Cow's blood. We bleed a few of the bulls at a time. It doesn't especially hurt the animal. Glue is more effective, but at the cost of an animal. So we don't typically make it unless one dies and then it has more pressing purposes. where it cannot so easily be supplanted. Mind the pot."
I hadn't even realized I had ceased to stir as I listened. Embarrassed, I quickly set back to work. "Sorry, I didn't mean get so distracted."
"There is no harm in it. It is flattering to know my words hold such sway."
I did not answer but continued to stir.
A few minutes passed before Du Beauchene spoke again, "What did you think of the book?"
"I liked it very much. Dom Lorenzo has quite a way with words, it felt far more accessible to the common man than the previous work."
"Ah that is the challenge. Though there are some who do intentionally write their works in such a lofty manner as to wholly exclude the common man that only the select might comprehend their supposed genius; I say it is one who truly understands the meaning of his faith who writes in a more simple manner so that anyone, upon reading or hearing his words might, at least partially, comprehend them and thus grow closer to God."
"You sound like a preacher."
Du Beauchene smiled enigmatically. We continued to discuss the book until the sun had begun its descent to its bed behind the mountains. In the distance, I could hear the faint ringing of the dinner bell. I left with the promise that I would return again tomorrow.
The day went much as the first had, though this time with the preparation of the saltpetre flour. An ardous task to be sure, but the company made it a rather pleasant thing.
"I have been wondering, how long have you lived in Gerizim?"
"I first arrived when it founded, twenty years ago."
"You have lived here since it first began? But you cannot be more than forty."
"Yes, I was a young man then."
"You were a scholar before then?"
"In a manner of speaking. I believe I hear the dinner bell."
I did not hear the bell but took his words as a sign he wished to abandon the topic.
"There is a book by Erasmus in the library. I think you might enjoy it."
And in this way I passed the next few days until Wednesday brought the afternoon return of the Mueller brothers as well as four other men I had not seen before. Rachael had attached herself to a particularly handsome spare young man with blond hair and almond shaped eyes from the quartet at supper but he appeared more polite than interested in her attentions. As I was eating supper I noticed one of the men walk off behind the building (since they were the only new people seen in quite a while it was hard not to notice their actions) a few minutes later Du Beauchene followed him. The pair returned after a short while though coming from different sides of the building. As Du Beauchene returned to his position he fixed me with a pointed stare. I felt a chill down the back of my neck.
As supper concluded, Veena rose from her position at the head table. A hush fell over the crowd. "My children, there will be no celebrations tonight. Nor will there be any for the next week. I have terrible news, but even this will not be as terrible as the proclamation I have received from God. But first I must tell you, Penelope Spanos, Deitrich Bernhardt, Eduard Van Hooeck, Paul Calvin, Frederich Eck, and Helena Troyer were martyred while serving as the Lord's missionaries this week."
A gasp rose from the crowd. A woman screamed and ran weeping from the tent while another fainted. A man bellowed like an ox, pounding on the table, causing plates to fall to the ground and shatter as large tears bubbled down his face. It was horrible to see. Veena waited as Mr. Bauer led the man away that he might mourn in private.
"We will hold a memorial service for our fallen saints tomorrow afternoon. No work shall be done tomorrow. We shall all fast and pray the whole of the day. I have spent this afternoon imploring the Lord what reason He might have to allow such a terrible fate to befall His children who had been willing to lay their lives down that we might prepare the world for His return. And the Lord spoke unto me saying, 'This is my divine judgment for allowing sin and wickedness to enter into this village. There are those who walk among you who have been baptized in my name but have then gone on to sell their very souls to the adversary. They are not children of the covenant but of the curse. They have betrayed me in their thoughts and in their words. They have conspired to bring my people to ruin in the hope that the coming of the Kingdom might be delayed. This is my message to the people of Gerizim: Repent that you might be spared eternal damnation! Repent that you may spare Gerizim from further judgment!' My children, if there is a sin you have entertained in secret I ask that you would come forward that you might be forgiven."
A number of men, women and children rose from their seats and came forward.
"Kneel my children and pray for God's forgiveness."
I could hear the sound of fervently mumbled prayers rising from the group.
After almost ten minutes of this spectacle, Veena raised her hands to the sky, "My children your sins are forgiven. Draw on your foreheads a cross of ash that we might know to pray for you to remain strong in the battle ahead."
The people who knelt looked visibly relieved at her pronouncement.
"However, the Lord has also given me a warning: There are among us those who has made a pact with the Devil. Who refuse to come before the throne of God that they might be redeemed. These people have allowed their hearts to become corrupted by the wickedness of the world. They will not be easily rooted from the children of God. They are not people who are new to us, but those who have been with us long enough that we might know them, even trust them, as our brothers. But they are no longer our brothers. They have betrayed our family. We must be ever vigilant. If you see a neighbor or even a loved one who is acting suspiciously, in a way that might suggest they are keeping secrets or attempting to gather information for which to betray us with to the adversary (for we know God has placed His hand of protection over Gerizim and the Devil, who cannot enter our village, might only learn of our plans if told from someone within by his agents) please report that poor deceived child to the High Priest of myself, for the sake of their eternal soul, that they might be spared eternal damnation. As in the days of Ai, the Lord has allowed us to perform this task of rooting out the evil that we might prove ourselves faithful to Him. Go with God."
She returned to her seat. No one spoke a word as they shuffled off to their homes, but for Rachael who caught up with us.
"Dinah, can you believe there might be a servant of Satan in our midst?" she said a bit too loudly.
Mrs. Bauer shot her a withering look. "Rachael, show some respect!"
"My apologies, Mrs. Bauer. Still," she continued, now in a conspiratorial whisper, "it gives me the shivers to think there is one among us who might very well be going off to commune with the agents of the devil at this moment."
"Yes, it is quite a terrible thought," Dinah said. "I suppose we must do as the Prophetess says and remain vigilant."
"By the way, who is your new friend?" I asked.
Rachael blushed, "His name is Mikhail, apparently he is a friend Georg and Gregory brought back with them. Don't you think he is handsome?"
"He is not to my taste," I answered, recalling the slight, fair young man. "but he would certainly qualify for that title."
"He's Russian, you know."
"I gathered that from his name and appearance."
"Russians are very exotic, don't you think?"
She prattled on and on about Mikhail and Russia and how he would be joining the stables as a groom and how very romantic that somehow was until we were almost at the door.
"Rachael, don't you think it is about time you went to your own home? You and the girls can talk more tomorrow." Mrs. Bauer said.
"Yes, Mrs. Bauer."
As Rachael disappeared into the dark Mrs. Bauer watched her, shaking her head, "She's a good girl, Rachael is, but she does tend to get a bit caught up in her conversations."
The following day marked the memorial service. As most people owned only a few pairs of identical clothes there was no special variation for funerals. The service itself was a somber affair. With no bodies to bury, the High Priest instead presented boxes of their clothing to be buried in small pits. Wooden boards, nailed together and fashioned with cambered tops, with the names of those lost carved on followed by the dates of their births and deaths (as near as the could approximate, John Calvin did not have a birth date at all - his family must have been too poor to observe such a frivolous thing - and Penelope Spanos only had a birth year recorded, 1868, she had only been nineteen years old.) and marked by a cross. As the people slowly left the ceremony I picked through the cemetery grounds looking at the other graves. Many were weathered and grey.
There were three, near the back, Ethel, Marcus, and Luke Rosendorf all dated as having died in June of 1868, Luke only having attained the age of four months at the time of his death. The only bodies buried in the cemetery, Du Beauchene had said. Tobias Keller stood beside them an old man of sixty-four. Mary Elaine Denny his companion at only twenty-two. In front of them more names, Kristoph Bauer, twenty-five. I wondered if he might be related to the Bauers I now stayed with. Though it was a common name. I noticed not all the graves had crosses, in fact very few did. Suddenly I was struck by a grave, tucked near the middle of the cemetery where it might easily be missed by the casual visitor, was a weathered grave with the name Marigold Lee carved into the wood. There was no cross on her grave, only the dates March 20, 1864 - May 6, 1884. Could this be Veena's prodigal daughter? Rachael had said she was buried in the cemetery. But the name "Lee" didn't follow, Veena had said her family name was "Ernst". Lee was an English name, certainly not German. I quickly walked through the graves but found no other Marigolds, Ernst or otherwise. Perhaps there was a reason for the different family name, but this had to be her. I returned to the grave and examined it once more. Given the dates the girl would have been twenty when she left the village. She would be twenty four now. Which would mean she had been born four years before Gerizim was founded! That would mean there must be some record of her somewhere! All we would have to do was find Marigold Lee and we would be able to find Veena.
That evening I noticed almost a dozen more men and two women I had never before seen at supper.
The next morning I returned to Du Beauchene's workshop. I knocked at the door but received no response. Carefully, I opened the door and walked into the dingy building. I found him at his desk, his head cradled in his hands surrounded by sketches of everything from large vats to city bridges to harbor piers.
"Monsieur Du Beauchene?"
He did not respond, he did not even stir. His breathing came slow and even. I titled to one side that I might see his face. His eyes were closed. He appeared exhausted. He must have fallen asleep. Had he been working all night?
"Monsieur Du Beauchene?" I tried again, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder.
He jolted awake grabbing my hand painfully.
"Monsieur Du Beauchene!"
"Oh, it is just you," he said, loosening his grip although not entirely releasing it. "I'm sorry."
"It there anything I might assist you with today?"
"You might keep me company, that I don't fall asleep again." He gently pulled me over beside him by my captive hand. There was something in the motion, in the speaking of the words and the softened expression of his face, that felt almost painfully intimate. As though he were pulling me in to his very self. As though he were able to. I stood only inches from where he worked, close enough that he had to adjust the position of his elbow that it did not strike me. Yet, when I attempted to move he only took my hand and guided me back to my place beside the drawing board. The atmosphere felt strangely heavy, as though a violent storm were approaching. I had known few tempests but the same weird anxiety that often accompanied them now settled in my stomach.
He spoke few words, leaving me to attempt to prattle on, but quickly failing on each subject I tried for lack of response. Finally, as noontime drew near, I lapsed into silence.
"You need not worry about conversing, your presence is more than enough."
The tension in my stomach grew, now tickling like an itch impossible to scratch.
"Could you fetch a pencil for me, there is a box on the third shelf."
I went to fetch the asked for item down the short, makeshift hall between the shelves. As my back was turned I could hear the scrape of his chair as he stood and spoke again, "Oh and might you fix a cup of coffee for me as well, Miss Moore."
I froze, the blood seemed to become ice in my veins. I knew there was nowhere I could run. My eyes darted to the shelves in hopes of finding something I might use to fend him off, but even now I knew it would be to no avail. He had planned this moment, he would be ready. Despite his lightness of step I knew he was directly behind me.
"So the report is true." His warm breath tickled my ear. I felt his long, spidery fingers wrap around my shoulders. "Don't worry, I won't tell her."
"Why not?" I managed to stammer.
"The burden of traveling with a title is quite a heavy one. I can understand why you would choose to conceal it when a German name would open far more doors and create far less risk of danger. Kepler is your mother's maiden name, correct?"
"Yes. But how did you find out?"
"Veena may be lax in checking the background of her converts, content to trust her own judgement, but I am far less so. I requested one of my men to look into Mr. and Miss Underhill, and, as a matter of consequence, you. Imagine my surprise to learn that you were of the noble class."
"I imagine you were not surprised in the slightest. You have suspected it from the first. If anything, you were surprised that I was truly engaged to a man of the cloth."
He brushed around to my side so that I was now able to see his face. He wore an oily smile as he looked me over. "Very perceptive Miss Moore."
"So that was what your meeting yesterday at supper was regarding?"
"So you were watching." His gaze softened slightly. For a moment he appeared almost a decade younger, as though a great weight had lifted from his brow.
"You said you would not tell the Prophetess, why?"
At the mention of Veena's title disgust flashed across Du Beauchene's face. "Perhaps I do not want to risk that she might use your connections and fortune for her own purposes. Or perhaps I merely want something that only belongs to you and I."
"But are you not afraid your man will tell her?"
"No. There is a contingent in this village who are loyal to me and me alone. They have become disillusioned by Veena and her prophecies. They would not betray your secret."But if they do not believe, why do they remain?"
He smiled as one might at a precocious, yet terribly naive child.
"There is still much for you to learn, Miss Moore, but today is not the day to teach you. Perhaps, after lunch, we might rinse the saltpetre flour."
Following a rather spare lunch (as consequence of the order to fast there was little food available, still, out of the little he had from breakfast he shared it with me) we began to work the saltpetre flour into its purer form. Du Beauchene had dropped any pretense and now I found him almost constantly watching me with great interest.
"I suppose we should be off to supper," I said, rinsing off the last of the saltpetre flour.
"Before you go-" Du Beauchene retreated into his room, returning with a small book clothed in threadbare red cloth, so thin in places the cardboard had begun to show through at the corners and the edges.
"You have a book?" I was almost stunned to see the little thing, wholly free from the confines of the shelves and banisters and that horrid thin man with the glasses who sat perched above, watching like a hawk.
"Just a small collection of the poetry of Baudelaire I was able to conceal. Poetry is too much a part of the owner's soul to be placed upon the dusty shelves of a library. I ask that you will read it. Not that we may discuss it, but that I might share something of the deepest part of my soul with one who might appreciate it."
I colored. Taking the small book I slipped it into my bag and left without another word.
At supper it seemed we were now overrun by strangers with at least fifty people I had never before seen.
I pulled Dinah aside as we walked back to the Bauer's house. Once I was certain we were out of earshot of the Bauers, I whispered, "Dinah, has Menning mentioned anything to you about these new people?"
"No, and it is not for want of my asking. But he simply dismisses the question. Mrs. Bauer tells me we may soon have a few guests staying with us but when I inquired as to why she only said they were old friends returned from their missions."
"If that were the case then why do they need to board with us? Where is there even space for them?"
"Apparently they will be staying in the shed, Mr. Bauer has been building bunks for them. I'd guess half a dozen."
"How have I not noticed this?"
"You have left early almost every morning and not returned until the first stars are out; I'm not certain how you could have learned of it."
"I am sorry to have left you and Quentin alone so much."
"It is better that you do, I think. We might appear more suspicious were we always together. As it is, Heinrich tells me Veena is very pleased that we seem to be integrating well into the community. Though both she and Heinrich have expressed some trepidation that you have lately taken to spending so much time with Monsieur Du Beauchene."
"From what I have come to understand their trepidation is valid. Du Beauchene may be in the employ of Miss Ernst, but he is not her man."
"Then what is he?"
"That I do not know, precisely."
"What do you mean?"
"If someone were to tell me he were Lucifer in the flesh I would be inclined to believe them, but, just the same, if they were to tell me he was a victim of forces beyond his control I would be just as inclined to believe that depending on the moment. I simply do not know what to make of him or what his intentions are."
"Do you think he would tell you who these people are if you were to ask?"
"I think he would not tell me the time, if my not knowing suited him. And even if he did, I certainly could not trust the answer."
"I wonder, would the Mueller brothers be inclined to talk about such things openly?"
I shook my head, doubtfully.
Dinah stopped in her tracks, "Of course! How could I now think of it before!"
"What is it?"
"Rachael, of course! If anyone would know anything it would be her."
"Of course! She never ceases to investigate something until she has rooted out every possible object of gossip."
"Which she is then only too happy to share."
"We should speak with her tomorrow."
"Won't Monsieur Du Beauchene mind if you don't assist him?"
"No, in fact, I think he would prefer if I stayed away tomorrow."
"Why is that?"
"It is just the sense I got when we said goodbye." I could not tell her about the little book of poetry. It felt too personal a thing to be shared. He would not want me to return tomorrow because that would mean I had not taken the time to appreciate his gift, to digest it for every thing it represented. The trust, the confidence that I would not reveal him in his rebellion, the feeling of finding a kindred soul after so long in isolation. To tell would be as though I were exposing the man, naked, to the world against his consent. "Should we call on Rachael at home tomorrow or will she be at the knitting circle?"
"Neither, I believe. Lately she has taken to spending her time around the stables. She claims she is interested in learning to ride, for her health. But she has confided that it is the eye of one of the grooms that actually holds her interest."
"Ah yes, the Russian, I believe. Michael was it?"
"Mikhail."
"Tomorrow seems a fine day for a ride, wouldn't you agree?"
Dinah smiled.
All morning we watched new people arriving by the horse trail through the forest. At first it had only been a few at a time, some alone and some in scattered groups, but now there was a steady flow. Much of the town had turned up simply to watch as the people poured in, Dinah, Mrs. Bauer, and I among them. Quentin was unable to join us, having been conscripted, with Georg and Gregory, by Mr. Bauer to help finish the berths. Many of the men and women greeted Mrs. Bauer with embraces and fond words, inquiring as to her health and her husband. The whole mood was one of elation rather than sobriety. It seemed many of these people were known to the villagers, a number appeared to even be spouses and relatives. Among the crowd I saw the familiar faces of Mr. Ackermann and Mr Kaiser and waved. He ignored me, but Mr. Kaiser appeared genuinely glad to see us and returned the greeting. As the morning moved on I decided it was time to put our plan into action. Dinah and I excused ourselves citing that we did not wish to delay any longer for fear of straining the horses in the heat of the day.
We found Rachael leaning over the wall of an empty stall watching the Russian working a rather large horse's hooves with a pick, prattling on about how very interesting cleaning hooves was though it was clear she, herself, did not believe her own words.
"Rachael!" Dinah hailed. "How very fortunate to find you here! Mina and I were planning to go riding, would you like to join us?"
Startled by Dinah's call, the horse shook its hoof free from Mikhail's grasp and the Russian had to once more fight it back into position.
"I would love to but I was just keeping Mikhail company and I would hate to leave him."
"No, I don't mind. Go riding with your friends. I have plenty of work to do here," he said in his thickly accented voice looking positively relieved that he might be able to do his chores unobserved.
We chose three fine ponies and set about the fields at a pleasant walk.
"Isn't his accent lovely? And those eyes! He's part Siberian, you know."
"How very interesting," I said, not interested in the least. "You said Georg and Gregory brought him back from Russia?"
"Yes, apparently he used to live here a few years ago, but the Prophetess sent him on a mission to St. Petersburg where he has worked spreading the good news of Christ's coming Kingdom." Well, at least now we knew where the Mueller brothers had been; likely completing the mission Falina had failed.
"Why did they bring him back? Is he no longer going to be serving as a missionary?"
Rachael regarded us queerly, as though she had believed us a good deal smarter that such a question proved. "The Prophetess has called back all the missionaries. Have you not heard?"
"No, I'm afraid not. Do you know why?"
"No, but she must have a good reason. She hasn't called in so many since February last. And even then it was not all. Won't Mr. Snyder be in for a surprise! He's been on mission in Paris since February."
"I don't follow...?"
"Mrs. Snyder took to spending a lot of time visiting the Mr. Orr the baker at the bakery. She said it was to learn how to bake better but between us, I think they have a bun in the oven."
"She's with child?" Dinah looked horrified.
"Of course no one cares, they tell me to stop talking about it, but it's so very scandalous is it not? Mr. Snyder won't be happy at all."
"They are right to tell you not to speak of such matters. You should not spread idle gossip regarding the affairs of married couples," Dinah chastised the young woman who appeared positively crestfallen.
"Rachael," I said, hoping to distract the young woman from her embarrassment, "I was wondering, do you know anything about the Prophetess's time in exile? Or how she came to be called as a prophet?"
Rachael shook her head, "Only the little I have heard from her prophecies."
"Do you think she might tell us if we were to ask? I know it might help us to put our faith in her were we to know her testimony," Dinah said.
"Perhaps... I know we are not to speak of it with outsiders, but maybe if I came with you and asked on your behalf, explaining the reason, she might tell us."
We found Veena at the main square, watching as a new tent was being added to the pavilion, doubling its size.
"Prophetess?" Rachael began.
"Yes my lambs?" Veena turned, her expression serene though her eyes betrayed some irritation at the interruption.
"We don't mean to be a bother, but if you have a moment might we ask you a question?"
"It is no bother at all, I will answer if I am able, though there are some things only known between the Lord and I that may not be shared at this time."
"Miss Underwood and Miss Kepler were wondering about your call to be God's prophet on earth; and I had to admit I did not know the story myself, so we decided to ask you."
Veena gave Rachael's shoulder a gentle pat, "As you were right to do, for it would not do for these lambs to be accidentally led astray were the account to be given improperly. Let us sit and I shall tell you all." She gestured to a pair of benches that sat in the sun, awaiting the new tent to be finished.
"I was only a child, a girl of seven, when I was exiled to the wilderness, the the lands that had once harbored Eden but now were cursed by his sin. That curse infected the ground and all who lived upon it; making the people hard and cruel. I was sold into the care of a foul tempered man and wife. There was no love of God in them and they treated me as less than a slave, often lamented that they could not afford a slave, and so took me instead. I was forced to work from dawn until dusk. Then, one day, when I had been made to fetch nails from the blacksmith's forage some miles away. It was there that the great Prophet of the Lord appeared before me on his steed, a great satchel of books were slung around his chest. Condescending to such a little child as me, he asked if I might give him some water for he was parched from riding. I knew him for what he was at that very moment. Hurriedly I grabbed a bucket and dipped it in the trough for him. He drank and was satisfied and said to me, 'My girl, do you know the Lord, God?' I shook my head, for I did not know more than any child does at such a young age. "That is of little matter child, for he knows you and he has sent me this way to give you a message.' He reached into his waistcoat and handed me a pamphlet entitled The Angel of the Prairies. I knew he had given this as a message to me to identify who he truly was, a Prophet of God sent be an Angel to bring God's message to the land. Then he rode off. He had only crested the hill when suddenly the agents of the devil were upon him. Two there were, and darkness followed them. The prophet turned from the road, followed by his pursuer. They shot at him but the Lord's hand was upon him and the bullets only bounced off of him. Then Satan entered the body of the lead man, giving he and his horse supernatural speed. He caught up with the prophet and felled him with one great blow from his knife. I watched as Satan, not satisfied that he might have killed the prophet, approached him and stabbed him again and again until he lay still. The blacksmith and another man carried the body of the prophet back into the house where I was forbidden to follow. On the ground lay the prophet's satchel, covered in his holy blood. I took the satchel home with me and hid it, that I might read, in secret, what God had intended for me."
"But the adversary was not so blind that he did not realize what God had done. That night while I read, he alerted my godless caretaker to my activities. When he saw the satchel and the books he cast them into the fire. I was too late to save them. I heard Satan laugh with delight as the pages burned while my caretaker held me back. But I broke free of him and from the fire managed to save a single verse, the message God had intended for me He had spared long enough that I might read it before it was consumed. Upon the scrap was written 'And thou, child, shalt be called the prophet of the Highest: for thou shalt go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways;'. From that moment I knew that the reason God had allowed the prophet to die was because He had transferred the gift of his prophecy to me in that moment at the trough. He had tested me and found me worthy to be the voice for his word. And to always remind me of that moment, he left the marks on my hands from the fire, the very hands were I watched His message disintegrate into my flesh."
Veena held out her hands, the flesh of the palms knotted and strange.
"The man and his wife, knowing that they had failed in their mission to prevent me from learning my true calling, gave me to the first family that would have me that were traveling through the region. Little did they know God had orchestrated this meeting as well. The family were kindly, God-fearing people, they taught me the simple truths of Anabaptism and the Apostolic church. They revealed to me that when the Lord came to usher in the millineum His throne would be in Munster, where He would rule over those who had followed him loyally for a thousand years.
I remained with them until I was fifteen when the Lord sent a missionary from the prophet's church to me. I followed him to their city in the desert where the great temple stood just as the Angel of the Prairie had said. But I quickly came to find that, while they possessed some measure of the truth, as it was with Israel, in the absence of the prophet it had been corrupted by men and their sinful, greedy ways. They cared more for satisfying their lusts than satisfying the Lord and the Holy Spirit was not among them. They were blind to prophecy, not just blind, but willfully so! They shut their eyes to it! Blocked their ears from it! They were determined that it should not be heard. The missionary, who knew me for what I was, a prophetess called of God, finally was corrupted by their sinful ways. It pained me greatly, but through the strength of God's love for him, I was able to deliver the missionary's soul, not just him but his entire family but at the cost that I must never return to the village for there could be no salvation for the people there. They had ransomed their souls to the adversary."
She shook her head sadly.
"I returned to the place I had originally come from and God granted me provision that I might be borne across the sea to spread His message in my homeland. Which is where God tested me once more, that I must wholly abandon my father and mother and truly follow Him, alone. This test well passed I began my ministry in earnest. God has blessed me with many open ears and hearts and has grown His kingdom immensely since that time. I consider myself blessed beyond all measure that He has chosen me as the shepherd for His flock. Does that answer your question?"
Dinah and I nodded but Rachael stared with rapt attention at Veena, unable to speak.
"Well, my lambs, I must be returning to the work. I wish you a blessed afternoon."
"Thank you, prophetess," Dinah said with a nod.
Rachael was positively in raptures about the prophetess, talking almost without ceasing about the great testament we had heard. We parted ways at the path to the stables for she wished not to delay a moment in telling Mikhail what she had heard.
I turned to Dinah, "So what did you think of the Prophetess's Tale?"
Dinah regarded me with alarm still in her eyes, "I think she is completely mad."