AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Tonight we have a new member in our midst,” he said into the microphone, and the crowd fell silent. “Sister Rachel.” He nodded in her direction but didn’t bother with her last name. He didn’t want to mention anything to do with her husband. She belonged to him now, to the Covenanters. She was his gift to his followers. “She’s been sent to us to nurture and strengthen us by adding her talents to our talents, the work of her hands to the work of ours. And we, in turn, are to guide her as a loving parent, to protect her as a loving husband and to accept her as a loving friend.”
“Amen!” came the response.
“From this time forward, she will belong to us and with us. She will share all her worldly goods, her heart and her knowledge, and we will do the same. We will have all things in common. Let there be no poor among us.”
“No poor!” the crowd shouted.
“And now, we will welcome her through the gate of acceptance.” His eyes sought Bart again; he found him standing in the far corner. “Brother Bartholomew, will you escort Sister Rachel to the front, where she will receive the robes of righteousness?”
Bartholomew straightened in obvious surprise. He generally remained in the background while the other Guides helped with the initiation. But Ethan wanted Bart to do the honors tonight. This action symbolized and confirmed their private bond in a public setting. He was asking Bart to give him Rachel, to give him the Vessel he’d promised their people.
And, as usual, Bartholomew didn’t disappoint him. He bowed with respect before making his way to the front, where he offered Rachel his hand and escorted her up on stage.
“And now, my lovely Rachel, you will disrobe.”
Her eyes shifted from him to the crowd. “I will…what?”
“Disrobe. In this ritual you lose all shame in your nakedness. You are created in God’s image, as the rest of us are. You must pass through the same gates, stripped as bare as the day you arrived on this earth.” He waved, and the two women he’d designated before the opening prayer appeared with the white robe he’d had them make.
Rachel saw it and seemed to relax a little.
“This is symbolic,” he explained for her ears only. “You take off your worldly clothes and you don the robes of righteousness. But we baptize you first. Then rub you with oil. After that, you’ll be ready to become bride to the church.”
He knew the others recognized, from the expense and style of the robe and from the subtle changes in the ceremony, that this ritual was different than any they’d witnessed in the past. This was special, modified for the Vessel. Rachel was the only one who didn’t understand the magnitude of what was happening.
But she’d find out soon enough.
Rachel could count the number of people who’d seen her naked on three fingers. Her mother, when she’d walked in while Rachel was showering at ten years of age. That guy she’d slept with to punish her father—she couldn’t remember his last name and preferred to forget even his first. And Nate. But as she stood in front of the Covenanters, gazing out at their expectant faces, she knew this was one of those compromises she’d have to make for the sake of some greater good, although it required a sacrifice of her comfort, her ideals and her dignity.
With shaking hands, she pulled off the tank top she was wearing and unbuttoned her cutoffs before sliding them over her hips. With so many people in the same room, it’d been too warm a moment before. Now it seemed downright cold. Goose bumps jumped out on her skin as she stood before them in her bra and underwear. She hoped that would suffice, but she suspected it wouldn’t. That fear was confirmed when Ethan leaned forward to whisper, “Take it all off.”
Rachel attempted to calm her nerves by telling herself that this was something everyone in the room had been through in order to join. She even tried to distract herself by continuing to search the audience for Sarah. But she couldn’t find her, and the level of interest in what was taking place didn’t seem commensurate with a common ritual. That bothered her. Of course, she’d never participated in or even seen a ritual involving nudity, so maybe she was wrong and they were all like this.
Steeling her nerves against the self-consciousness and embarrassment that came with stripping in front of an audience, she unhooked her bra and let it fall. Then she stepped out of her panties.
“Beautiful,” Ethan murmured, but the compliment made her feel even less comfortable. Especially when the women with the robe didn’t come forward as she expected. Wondering what was taking them so long, she turned to see, but Ethan drew her in the opposite direction—to a table that held two tall but unlit candles in silver candlesticks and a decorative basin of water.
When Ethan motioned to someone at the side of the room, all the lights went out, except for a spotlight directly over her head. Then Bartholomew lit the candles, chanting as he did so. The crowd picked up the chant, and the sound crescendoed as Ethan dipped his hand into the water.
“You’re about to be purified,” he told her, “so that you enter the church untainted by the sins of the world.”
What did that involve? She would’ve asked except Ethan was now saying something theatrical into the microphone, something that sounded like Latin. As he moved away from the mic, he withdrew a sponge from the decorative basin and brought it down over her right breast and then her left, making the shape of an X.
Gasping at the cold water, she nearly bolted. She wanted to put on her clothes, wanted to be gone from this place. She’d already sacrificed more for the sake of religion than most people; she couldn’t bear to submit her will again. But the hope of saving Martha kept her standing resolutely on stage, even as Ethan knelt before her and ran the sponge down each leg.
Rachel longed for the robe, but Ethan wasn’t done yet. He made another motion and each person in the congregation came up to run the sponge over her bare skin. They were chanting and wearing hoods. She had no idea where the costumes had come from. They made it impossible to see whether it was a man or a woman touching her, but she could sometimes tell by their hands. Not surprisingly, the men tried to touch her more intimately.
Closing her eyes, she struggled to endure the intrusion. It’ll be over in a second. Hang on. For Martha. You can beat Ethan at his own game….
Suddenly, the touching stopped. She opened her eyes to see that the people were gone—probably back to their seats. Blinded by the spotlight, she couldn’t tell whether they were still wearing hoods, but the thought of them staring at her through the eye slits made her feel as if she’d been thrown into a Ku Klux Klan meeting.
