Of course, the matron had received a great deal of scriptural help in forming her destructive conclusions. It was clear that the biblical god didn’t like women much. He seemed to blame the entire female sex for ruining his perfectly obedient man. Hannah thought back to her childhood when the story of Eve and the apple had first been taught to her. At the time she’d believed it and felt guilty for things she couldn’t even understand. Then she’d escaped to the so-called Fallen World, and the scales fell from her eyes. She went to school and learned about all sorts of other religions—some that even worshipped a female deity. This pagan goddess, as she was called, supposedly created the universe out of her own being and she lived in every atom of it. That must mean she loved the world she’d made and all its creatures, including women. Hannah liked that notion. Deep down, she felt sure that this goddess, whoever she was, wouldn’t stand apart and curse her own creation like some tantrum-prone toddler wrecking a finger painting that had gone wrong.
The girl focused back on Mother Rachel. By now the matron had stopped for breath, having worked herself up into quite a froth. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the girl’s face for some reaction. What did she hope to find there? Fear? Remorse? Hannah’s mask of insipid blankness never varied.
Mother Rachel shook her head. “I see the Fallen World has corrupted your soul. That you could remain unmoved by the Lord’s own words is proof of how shameless you have become. If these messages of divine rebuke can’t stir you, then let me give you something else to think about.” The matron leafed through several pages searching for a particular text. She raised her head and repeated the words from memory. ‘Of the woman came the beginning of sin, and through her we all die.’”
She jabbed an arthritic index finger in the air to make her point. “There is more at stake here than your own soul.”
Hannah tilted her head to the side, exhibiting a tinge of curiosity. She wondered what Mother Rachel could possibly mean.
The old woman closed the book and removed her glasses. “I couldn’t care less if you wish to damn yourself, but I won’t allow you to drag us all down with you.”
Hannah registered surprise.
Mother Rachel elaborated. “Father Abraham is the head of our family, and we are all tied to his destiny. When he rises to a glorious rank in the celestial kingdoms, his consecrated brides and their children will rise with him. I’ve never doubted I would enter paradise at the end of my days. Until now. Until you...” She trailed off.
Hannah sat forward slightly in her armchair and stared at her visitor, trying to fathom the logic behind her last statement.
“Before you were brought here, Abraham was a robust, vital man. He was decisive, and he led the congregation with a sure hand. We were bound for glory under his guidance. But now look at him.”
The question was rhetorical, but Hannah began to understand Mother Rachel’s drift. The girl herself was aware of the shocking deterioration in the diviner’s physical appearance since her escape.
“When you abandoned our husband, he began to change. His health suffered. He could no longer sleep at night. He has resorted to taking strong medicines which leave him vague and uncertain the following day. There are whispers that he has made secret plans which will lead the Nephilim away from the path of righteousness. If this is true, God’s judgment will fall heavily upon him. He will suffer eternal punishment, and we will share that horrible fate. Every one of his wives and children will be damned because of you!”
So, there it was. Hannah finally understood Mother Rachel’s vested interest in bringing the girl back in line. It wasn’t simple jealousy of a rival as Hannah had initially suspected. The matron obviously believed that if Abraham’s favorite wife was restored to him in a state of docile submission, all would be well. Mother Rachel would be guaranteed a prime seat in the afterlife if she pandered to her husband’s lust for Hannah. The girl kept her face from exhibiting the disgust she felt. Instead, she turned her head aside.
The matron rose and laid the Bible on her empty chair. She slipped her glasses back into her apron pocket, signaling that she had labored long enough in the Lord’s vineyard for one day. “Think about all I’ve told you, Sister Hannah. Read what the Lord says about disobedient wives and take his words to heart. I will visit you every few days and pray that God will open your eyes to the truth.”
She let herself out and locked the door.
Hannah picked up the Bible and stared at it for a long moment. So many words scribbled in its pages to tell her she was a lesser being than a man. Why waste all that ink and restate the obvious if female inferiority was an immutable law of creation? Nobody needed to forbid a bird to rule a country. Birds only knew how to fly. Nobody needed to prohibit a fish from leading an army. Fish only knew how to swim. Yet women were told repeatedly that they were incapable of ruling countries or leading armies. Was it really necessary to ban them from doing something that was beyond their ability to accomplish? Unless, of course, it wasn’t beyond them. What if all those scriptural admonitions were based on fear? Fear that women might realize their inborn power.
“For women,
