Chapter 10

In the meantime, back in the village:

Samuel’s old house was left abandoned and gradually deteriorated into ruins. The only visitor was Abigail who came, regardless of season, to kneel by the grave and pray for forgiveness. Abigail knew herself guilty of causing the death of Constance. She knelt in the dirt and prayed to God that He would accept her back into His arms. But day after day, year after year, He did not reply.

Abigail’s life became more and more austere as she abandoned nearly everything but her prayers. The villagers began to bring food and leave it in baskets at her door, for she had ceased caring for herself.

All of the villagers were haunted by the silent tree on the hill. Every day, the script burnt into the trunk of the tree accused them.

“Evil was done here. Innocence murdered. God abandoned. Pray! The only way back to God is though Grace but you have destroyed the only Grace in this cursed place.”

Even Abigail’s silent penance accused them for they knew that Abigail had not acted alone.

The people were lost in despair. They came to believe the village was truly cursed.

Gradually, one by one, family by family, they found a reason to move elsewhere.

As the people died off or left, the village slowly became abandoned.

Only Abigail remained, living isolated and alone. She scraped in the dirt and grew enough vegetables to keep herself alive but little more. A traveling salesman took it upon himself to watch out for the crazed woman. He called in from time to time when his journeying took him past the desolate village, checking on her health and leaving her supplies.

Abigail became wizened and ancient before her time. But still she visited the grave and often spent hours staring at the engraved stone as she tried to decipher its meaning.

“Here lies our beloved: daughter, sister, inspiration. She now rests safely in the arms of God, all duties fulfilled. And yet still she strives to carry out God’s Purpose from beyond the grave. What greater victory can there be?”

There was a gap, and then a second message scratched into the stone in smaller writing than the first.

“In the end she led us to Grace. But for you who abandoned God, and who destroyed the only Grace to be found, the only way back to God will be through Grace. We pray you will find your way.”

She often wondered why it lay flat when most gravestones were propped upright so they could be seen. She would kneel beside the grave and pray for forgiveness but still God was silent.

Then one spring, after a particularly harsh winter, Abigail saw that the stone had slid a little sideways. She scrabbled around with her hands and lifted it. She was surprised to find that there was a hole in the ground at its base, hidden under the grass. The stone slid into the hole with a quiet sigh and stood at an angle. It was not completely upright as the hidden hole had filled with detritus over the years. She slid the stone out again, grunting with the effort. Then she used her hands to dig the leaves and soil out of the hole. This time, when she stood the stone up, it slid into place with a solid thump. With the aid of a few small stones as wedges, Abigail was able to get it standing proudly vertical.

Abigail then proceeded to clear and tend the ground around the grave. Almost immediately her hands came across an object just under the soil where the stone had been lying. While the stone was upright, anybody who spent time tending the grave could not help but find it. Abigail drew the object out and cleaned it off. It was a small lead-lined box. Some of the wood had rotted over the years but the lead was still intact and sealed.

Carefully she broke the seal and opened the box. Inside she found a folded parchment. Her hands trembling, she carefully held the box and saw writing on the outside of the parchment. She gasped as the first thing she saw was her own name in the faded writing.

“Dear Abigail, daughter of Johannes. We expect that it will be you who finds this. If we are wrong, then we have misjudged, and we give our blessing to whomsoever you are. If we are correct, then Abigail, we have left for you a gift that we believe you and the others in the village will need by this time. We think it will have taken a while for you to find the courage to do what had to be done to find this, so by the time you read this we will be safe. Do not fear for us. Do with our gift what you will.”

Abigail snorted and shook her head. Back when all of this had begun, it had taken her six months before she had dared to lay her hands on the grave. Clearing it and tending it had become a part of her penance for she knew herself responsible for Constance’s death. The stone had lain flat from the first time she had seen it. She wondered who had knocked it over so many years ago. Then she looked over towards the deserted village. Whatever this gift, it was too late for the village and too late for those who used to live there.

Abigail carefully levered the parchment out of the box and looked underneath but there was nothing else there. She broke the lead seal holding the parchment closed and opened it out, thinking that this mysterious gift would be wrapped inside but there was nothing but more writing. Curious, now, Abigail laid the parchment flat and read what was there.

“To Abigail, daughter of Johannes. To the unknown person who struck down Symeon. To those villagers who took part in the murder of an innocent girl. To those others from the village who did not take part but were still cursed by the actions of their kin. Know that we whose names are signed below forgive you all for what you have done. Walk with God in your hearts. Be at peace.”

Then underneath the initial message was a series of comments, each in a different handwriting.

Abigail gasped when she read the words of Constance. She wondered how Constance’s words came to be written and buried at her own grave. But then she looked more closely for there was more.

The spacing suggesting that perhaps it had been written before the others but deliberately low so the others could be filled in above it.

“I am Grace who once was Ezekiel. I am a woman who once was a man. Do not ask me how, for it is one of God’s Mysteries. In a moment you will come for me and, mistaking me for Constance, you will take me and do with me what you will. My physical life is worth nothing and I give it gladly to save the life and the soul of my dear sister. Constance is innocent of the crimes for which she stands accused. By sacrificing this worthless life, I protect my sister, as is my duty. I forgive you all for what you are about to do. I pray that you find it in your hearts to forgive yourselves. You will not find God again until you do so. I fervently pray that each and every one of you will find your way back to God. Written by the hand of Grace, daughter of Samuel, who once was Ezekiel, son of Samuel, by the Grace of God. In the Year of Our Lord, 1662”

Abigail knelt in the dirt and wept. This was truly a gift. She had prayed for forgiveness and now she had been given it, from the only people that mattered to her.

Ezekiel? That strange boy. Who would have guessed he could do such a thing? To become a woman and stand in his sister’s place. To allow the mob to hang him for a murder he did not commit. What astonishing courage and adherence to duty. But God worked in mysterious ways and who was she to question His Plan?

She remembered the way Constance had walked among the mob with her head held high and a faint smile on her lips. That had been Ezekiel who had become Grace. Understanding flowed through Abigail like a bubbling stream of water. He had smiled because he knew he was protecting his sister as was his duty given to him by God. And he had smiled because that strangeness in him was Grace and she had been freed. It was no wonder she had smiled and walked with such pride.

Abigail prayed once more and felt a warmth filling her that she not felt for many years. God smiled upon her. Within the wonder of the moment, she knew what a terrible price she and the rest of the village had paid for one act of thoughtless vandalism that had knocked over the stone so many years before.

Ezekiel’s family had clearly planned for this message to be found within a few months after that terrible night. God must have truly been angry with her and with the rest of the village that He kept this gift from her for such a long, long time. So many had been lost. So many had drifted away, sorely troubled by their Sin. Only she was left. But now, finally, her time of penance was over.

Now Abigail understood the messages of the tree and of the stone. Ezekiel’s family had done what they could to lead her to find this gift. For truly, only through Grace had she found God again.

The next and last visitor to the village was the traveling salesman who had made a habit of passing through the dead village and checking up on the crazy woman. He rode through a week later and found the body of Abigail curled up beside the old grave. The stone stood upright and freshly cleaned. An old piece of parchment, which had clearly been used to clean the stone, lay in tatters beside her. Any writing on it was now indecipherable.