The Reasons Why

Mio

I rose at dawn, wrapping my loose robe around my stiff body. I follow the others to the devotion. I can hear some of the novices complaining of the cold stone floor that awaits us in the temple where we will pray.

How can they be thinking of the stone floor? I wonder. Even though I have knelt with them for many years now, I have never felt the stones, cold beneath my knees.

I am always too busy talking to my Father.

* * *

It is still quiet in the temple an hour after dawn, the suns rays creating a misty haze through the halls. The gentle sounds of bare feet on the stones and the rustle of cloth are soothing.

We follow the dimly lit passages to the kitchens where our simple day break meal awaits. Excited whispers move through the group as we enter the room.

“Apples!” one girl exclaims, loud enough for me to hear.

It seems spring has indeed come, if we are having apples at day break.

“Mio,” one of the girls calls my name as I take an apple from the quickly diminishing pile. It is Ahti. I sit with her and fill both our cups from the water pitcher at the table. We say grace and break our bread.

Ahti is tall with pale skin and light brown-blonde hair. Her eyes are hazel and her face is round, always friendly and open.

“I haven’t seen you for a while,” Ahti said. “How are you?”

“Fine,” I replied. “You?”

“Busy as always.” She took a sip from her cup. “Practices, dances, you know. Especially now. Are you dancing today?”

“I dance every day,” I remind her.

Ahti rolled her eyes at me. “You know what I mean,” she said, reaching for her cup again.

And I do. Today is the beginning of the seven that the King and his family will spend at our temple. It only happens once every seven years. The King comes and spends hours praying in our temple.

Everyone knew who the girls involved in the main celebrations were: they had practiced more than even myself. But there were so many parts to today and this week. So many priests, sisters, novices, acolytes, musicians and dancers involved. No one really remembered what anyone else was actually doing. It was hard enough remembering what you were doing yourself.

“I’m not,” I answered simply, reaching for my cup.

Surprise showed in Ahti’s eyes. “You’re not?”

“Are you?” I asked quickly, trying to distract her.

She wasn’t distracted. “Why not?” she demanded quietly. “You’re one of the best dancers here.”

“I’m still healing,” I said simply. It wasn’t the only reason but I knew the reference would probably stop her questions.

It did. Ahti’s eyes flickered as she bit into her apple. I finished my bread, glad for the silence but feeling slightly guilty.

“Are you alright?” Ahti said after a time.

I met her eyes. We both knew what she was referring to and it wasn’t the fact that I wasn’t dancing in the celebrations today. I nodded and she tried a smile.

“If you need anything – ” she started.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing. Really,” I said, before she could continue. I met her eyes again. “But thank you.”

We both stood and picked up our cups.

“I am dancing today,” Ahti said as we walked, answering my question asked quite a while ago. “A small part during the peace.”

“You will dance well,” I told her.

“Are you coming?” Ahti asked me. “To watch?”

I shook my head, a ghost of a smile on my face. “I will be dancing.”

* * *


Jmani

I was woken earlier than usual today. My manservant, Kemin, drew the heavy drapes and let the early morning sun light my room, causing me to blink and turn away. It didn’t help much. I put my head under my pillow.

“Your Highness,” Kemin called, opening my dressing room door.

I groaned, knowing I had to get up and not wanting to at all.

“Jmani,” Kemin called again, closer this time. I could tell he was standing by the bed. It was rare that he used my name instead of my title. Even though he ha been my manservant for most of my life and could address me with less formality than most, he usually refrained from such improperness.

Perhaps it was the importance of today’s events that caused the slip. Whatever the reason, I knew I had to get up. Sighing I pushed my covers down and rolled out from under the pillow. The light stung my eyes but they quickly adjusted.

“Good morning, Kemin,” I mumbled, as I stumbled out of bed and across my room into the lavatory.

“Good morning, Your Highness” Kemin replied with much more cheer now that I was out of bed. “How are you this morning?”

“Wishing I could sleep more,” I answered. Wiping my hands and face on a towel, I returned to my main bedroom.

“As always, Your Highness,” Kemin said, a barely detectable hint of reproach decorating his reply. He followed me into my dressing room.

My clothes for today were already laid out and from the looks of things I was going to be hot. “All pomp and circumstance today then,” I said, shedding my night bed wear.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Kemin replied. “This is a very important week. The Queen wishes everyone to look their best.”

Lacing my breeches and taking my long sleeved white shirt from Kemin, I sighed. I knew only too well the importance of this week but it was something I would much rather not be doing.

How could I pray to a god for a week when I wasn’t entirely sure I believed in him?

A crimson tunic edged with brown came next, followed by a matching half cape with the colours reversed. Kemin held out my stockings and polished brown boots but I waved them aside. I was already hot and I would put off any more clothing until the last minute.

As I walked out of the dressing room, I heard Kemin smother a sigh and smiled. He was always distressed at my improperness.

A lavish meal awaited me on the table by the windows. I picked up an apple and bit into it.

“Your Highness, the carriage will be leaving shortly,” Kemin informed me, placing my boots and stockings at my feet. “Their Majesties expect your presence in the entrance hall as soon as you are ready.”

I finished my apple, longing for another. If only there was time. I picked up another to put in my pocket but was stopped by a small but strong cough from Kemin.

“Fine, fine,” I grumbled, putting the apple back and picking up my stockings.

“If Your Highness would like,” Kemin said, coming over to me with a comb, “I shall have some put in your carriage bags for the journey.”

“Thanks you, Kemin,” I replied, stamping of the carpeted floor to get my foot into its boot.

With my shoulder length black hair tied into a horse tail and my outfit complete, I stood. Glancing around the room I wondered if there was anything I should have remembered. Kemin stood by the door with my gloves and belt purse.

“Shall we be going, Highness?”

* * *


Mio

I padded down the halls, away from the bustle of the main chambers in the temple. The chores I would usually be doing at this time of day are done. Everything was done the day before to allow us more time today for the King’s coming.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps on the stone floor. I duck into the shadows of the columns that separate one hall from the next and wait, hidden in the shadows.

I watch as the group passes: some priests, sisters, novices. My body shudders involuntarily at the sight of the men but I am safely hidden by the shadows. They can’t see me.

When they have disappeared around a corner, I cautiously slide back out into the hall and continue on my way. I am going to my favourite place in the temple – a little prayer chapel at the back, tucked away from the dorms, quest rooms, main chapels and prayer rooms. In my spare moments, I dance here.

I have danced at the chapel all my life. I grew up here. The sisters say my mother dedicated me in thanks to God. I can think of no better way to spend my life.

I live to dance for my Father. Every beat in my heart, every breath is dedicated to him. He is my reason.

At last I am at my chapel. I kneel and pray.

Dear Lord, my Father. Let my dance be for your glory. Let my dance praise you with every movement.

I sit on the stone floor and stretch. Through the chapel windows, the sunlight streams in, bathing me with warmth. My still healing body protests at the movement though it has been months since It happened. I still bear the scars.

Please Father, heal me that I may dance for you.

I begin some basic steps, starting slowly, allowing my body to adjust. Then, all at once, I am dancing. Praise of my Father, I feel as if I could be flying! God has taken my hands and I dance for him!

* * *


Jmani

It is a long and uncomfortable ride to the temple. Crowds line the streets as always when we go out and my father has opted not to ride and ordered that we use as few carriages as possible.

I ride in a carriage with my father, mother and the two eldest of my sisters, Tico and Jere.

“You could have ridden,” mother, dressed in richly coloured linen layers, commented to my father as she fanned her face, flushed even under her flawless paint.

“This is not an event for publicity,” father answered in level tones. Mother stiffened, clearly thinking that if father didn’t want publicity he should never have been King. As if he had a choice.

Father firmly believes in this tradition we are now carrying out. He had solid faith in God which he exhibited every day. To that end he was now dressed plainest of us all. He wanted to show his people in this week that even a King must bow to God.

I envied his simple linen shirt and vest. The half cape he wore was only cotton. I know mother did not approve at all. She had even commented that he looked lower than a dike once we were in the carriage. He had replied, evenly as always, that it was not the clothes or outer appearance of a person that God judged.

I can never understand how Father can have such faith in God when my mother is such a Queen of hypocrisy and society.

* * *

The carriage rolled into the temple grounds at last. I sighed quietly to myself as the stone building loomed alongside the carriage. This is where I would spend the next seven days.

The carriage doors were opened and a quick breeze of fresh air swirled in. Father motioned for my sisters to step out first. I followed mother, my legs – stiff from the cramped ride – protesting at the movement.

The courtyard was filled with people. Priests and sisters of the temple, young novices taking care of the horses and our things. My younger sisters and brothers clambering out of their carriages, our attendants doing the same.

“Your Majesties,” a priest came forward and started to bow to my father. He stopped him.

“Thank you for your welcome and hospitality today and for this week. Please treat us as you would any of your other guests.”

I caught mother’s eyes flash as father said this but she remained silent. The priest bowed his head and motioned one of the sisters forward.

“Your Majesties, I am Sister Jukka,” she introduced herself. “May I show you to the rooms we have prepared for you to allow you to refresh yourselves?”

Father stepped forward to respond but mother was ahead of him this time.

“That would be wonderful, Sister. Come along children.” She turned but father didn’t move. My brothers, sisters and I hesitated with indecision.

“We are here to pray and be with God,” father said to all of us. “Let us do so.”

“When we are refreshed, my dear,” mother responded smoothly.

Tomorrow, I suddenly decided, I would wear the plainest clothes that had been brought for me. No matter what mother had planned.

As for now, my brothers, sisters and I looked at our parents in turn. Mother turned and motioned for the Sister to show her the way, completely assured we would be following.

My youngest sister, Leoa, her two horse tails of hair flying, ran to father with a smile and no other thought. Father took her hand. The rest of us glumly followed mother.

Sister Jukka led us through a main section of the temple and then turned down a side hall with windows letting in the warm spring sunlight. I fell to the back of my brothers and sisters as we walked, watching over the younger ones who held each others hands and looked at the temple with wide eyes. Our servants came behind me, most carrying small things for us.

“We have given you these rooms at the back instead of the guest rooms so that you won’t be disturbed,” Sister Jukka explained quietly, her voice carrying and echoing slightly on the stone walls.

“I know you do your best here,” mother’s patronising voice responded, “but I do hope we aren’t miles away from the main chapel. I would…”

I let my mind drift rather than listen to mother’s hypocritical words. Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of movement between the columns. I slowed my pace, trying to see what had caught my eye. Nothing. I shook my head and walked on, subconsciously looking again.

There it was – a flash of movement. Walking past the next column, a lit room came into view. It was a small chapel, the windows set in the back wall filling it with sunlight.

In the centre, a lone figure danced.

She looked slightly younger than Suli, my third sister. Her thin frame was wrapped by a loose robe. She spun and turned as if made of air. Her long brown hair whirling free around her.

I slowed my pace again and craned my neck to see around the stone columns.

The sunlight glinted and shimmered about her like magic. It was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.

Suddenly we turned down a hall, taking me away from the enchanting dancer.

* * *



To be continued...