Cloverleaf

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. If she pressed her face against the feet of the Good Shepherd, she could see through the gap where one stray bullet had knocked out one frame of the grass-green knoll. By day, Abbess Anna would peer through the missing piece of stained glass into the courtyard below. By night, she would drink in cool air, watching the shadow of the cross slide down the slate roof. She prayed for him, her Shepherd, fighting the good fight out in the cloverleaf.

Her Shepherd traced his roots to the original 500, heroes cast out as deserters in the first days of the war. They were citizen-soldiers of the Karachay-Balkar, shipped away from the mountains with promises that the Ukrainians would greet them with flowers. Some of the 500 were Muslim, others Orthodox, with a small number of Ossetians carrying the Three Tears of God on their flak jackets. As the war waged on, their names became synonymous with resistance to Mother Russia. The fighting units of Almighty Justice stretched in force from chapel to church, from mosque to cathedral, throughout the Caucasus mountains.

When Anna was just a schoolgirl, the last Shepherd had met his end preaching before the altar. She had gone down to fetch water for him from the cistern when the first concussion shook the foundations of the cathedral. She emerged to find blasted shards of colored glass littering the floorboards and oaken pews of the sanctuary, a second shockwave scattering the bodies of her fallen sisters, robbing her of her hearing. The loss of sense added to her paranoia; she was afraid to be seen, afraid of what the Nameless might do to her.

There in the silent shadows, she had prayed for the spirits of her beloved to send a new Shepherd. When a man came pounding on the heavy door, calling out for help for his friend, she could only feel the tremor shaking the building. She prayed fear away, unlatching the locks, prayed for strength, pushing the chains aside, prayed away doubt, pulling a small opening into the muted light.

She helped the man bind the broken legs of his comrade, Al-amin, grateful for the sight of other living humans, even ones caked with blood and dirt. With gutteral sounds and signs, she asked for details, hungry for knowledge of the world beyond the high walls. When they did not reply, she asked about the others they had seen, even the Nameless. What did they look like, how did they dress, did their language sound like angels or devils?

Tell me about the cloverleaf, she pleaded, motioning with her hands, trying to make herself understood. Where do the roads lead?

The man and his friend adapted to her deafness, conveying to her that their band had taken the main highway, but there was an ambush. Soldiers had scattered into the darkness. We alone survived.

Four turns of the cloverleaf, three generations of war, two soldiers left to fight for freedom, only one working weapon among them – an old hunting rifle, passed from farmer to soldier. When the winds blew down from the mountains, they conspired to find food, fuel, ammunition. In their newfound home, they lived on bone broth and leeks and herbs from the courtyard.

Four seasons, three friends, a husband and wife, one child. One skirmish after another, two decades, three more children and still the forested cloverleaf drew down shelling and doled out suffering.

In time, the oldest living son joined the fighters and Abbess Anna resigned herself to life inside the safety of the church grounds. The wall behind the east-facing altar blocked the rising sun, and the blown out windows on the northern outer wall had been boarded up by Al-amin. Her daughters, Alania and Maria, played among the herb garden and the graves in the courtyard, its windows and western portico bricked over for protection. An ancient granite chapel flanked the southern side of the complex, beautiful and impenetrable in its decay. The only entrance to the outside world were the sanctuary doors, three wide planks of aged oak apiece, wrought iron rails driven into the marble threshold. Looking over them all, from the tower of the small cathedral, the colored glass of the Good Shepherd could still work miracles with the pale sun.

In her dreams one night, the Abbess pulled open the heavy cathedral doors and, instead of the memory of the Shepherd and Al-amin, her son Theodore entered, unscathed. He held out to her a spear in his left hand and a medallion in his left. She took the medallion from him and then embraced him, causing him to drop his spear. She knew in her dream that night that Theodore had survived the skirmish that Shepherd claimed had taken his life. He implored her to go with him, to leave the safety of the sanctuary under the protection of the silver relic, but she hesitated. She was staring down at the metalwork depiction of St George slaying the dragon when the door closed. When she looked up, Theodore was gone along with his spear, but her fingers were still holding fast to his gift.

The dream was so real that, on waking, she searched her bedding for the medallion, worried she had lost such a priceless piece of smithing. She was hesitant to share her dream with the Shepherd when he returned from his watch, worried he might scold her for pining after their first-born.

She saw firelight echoing up the stone stairwell. She could see shadows of the Shepherd arguing with Al-amin, the former threatening the latter with a spade. Al-amin climbed the steps and entered the room, bowing before the Good Shepherd before he continued to seek the forgiveness of Abbess Anna for waking her.

There has been an accident, rather an incident, but more serious. A tragedy? Not sure of the sign-words, he stumbled. The Abbess waited patiently, pulling her nightshirt around her, arising to meet the friend's eyes.

What has happened? Al-amin, True Friend. You are always forthright with me. Tell me what you have to say.

Your beloved Shepherd wanted me to tell you that your son, El-azar, is missing.

Missing, as in you cannot find him? Injured, or worse?

Worse, we fear that he has been captured.

Captured, but not yet harmed?

No, Mother Abbess.

And how would you describe the Shepherd? Is he injured?

Not in body, mother, but ashamed.

Thank you, Al-amin. Let me go to comfort him.

No, you should wait. Shepherd is gathering supplies to go back out. Al-amin's hands failed him for a moment. To search for the guilty, to bring them to justice, to return El-azar back to you safely.

I am glad you have come to tell me I have seen in a vision that all is well. Theodore goes to protect him, in the name of St George.

Al-amin turned to go and is confronted by the glass eyes of the Good Shepherd. He turned back, hesitantly repentant.

Mother Abbess, I have not always been truthful with you.

Yes, True Friend, tell me.

Forgive me, but your son, the brothers, he, they….Your husband may kill me for saying to you, but Theodore and El-azar, they both left us. His mind searched for the correct sign-word: On purpose.

What else do you not want to tell me, Friend?

Shepherd has ordered me to dig a grave. In the courtyard. He plans to bury your sons there should he find them. Al-amin struggled to explain, We are afraid that the Nameless may turn your sons against us, against this place.

Leave me now, Al-amin, I must pray. If you must dig a grave, I beg you to dig up my garden, the parsley and clover. The ground is pleasant there.

Instinctually, Abbess Anna moved closer to her sleeping daughters. Alania and Maria were still young in those days, their ages together not yet equal to their older brother, El-azar. Maria had no memory of Theodore, except for him tossing her into the air and catching her before he left for the cloverleaf.

Anna moved silently from their beds to the window to pray. What did she learn from the first Shepherd about the three spheres, the fear of the grave?

She leaned her head against the stained glass, watching the morning light gather slowly in strength. The sphere of the divine, beyond language, where words could not contain the joy of finding to the Holy One. That was first. Then the sphere of human connections, embraced by words, enriched by conversation, dependent on communication. In the third sphere, nature and her creatures found the meaning of life beneath words, before the tongue could ascribe a name or definition to existence. Below them all was the deep, the formless void of grave darkness, where only the Spirit could hover, hoping to redeem some life from the pit.

Through the missing piece of green, she could see a figure in the courtyard, motioning to her from the first light. Behind him, another figure, digging deep into the courtyard garden. While she looked, another pushed up out of the dirt. She could tell that she was not dreaming, but perhaps the light was playing tricks with her mind. The first man continued to beckon to her from below, then glancing around, began to clamor up the bricks to the portico roof. She could see now that it was Theodore, not seven feet from the window’s opening.

Abbess Anna turned to the girls, who were just beginning to wake. She looked around for some rags and, stuffing them into the small opening in the stained glass, she worked her hand through, pushing against the soft leaden lines. First one piece of grassy green, then another worked loose. At first, she carefully collected the glass, then, as if realizing the gravity of the situation, she worked more furiously and carelessly.

Alania and Maria came to see what strange thing this was that had awakened them, what strange phantom of their mother was dismantling her precious window. When the legs of the shepherd had been knocked out, Anna lifted Maria through the soft lead and cautiously handed her to Theodore. He held her close and handed her off to El-azar, who had now fully emerged from the ground. Al-amin, all the while, acted indifferent to the whole scene, and pretended only to focus on his given task of preparing a deep grave.

In time, it was Alania’s turn to be reunited with her brothers. Anna had pushed through most of the window, the eyes of the Good Shepherd now dangling comically from the haloed head, glancing down on the chaos. Anna traced her daughter’s steps to the garden, where she could see Al-amin carefully securing the walls of the grave, El-azar now jumping inside to push clear an opening into a tunnel beneath the granite chapel for Maria to enter.

Whether or not she would follow them into that tunnel, she had to make her way down and quickly. Whatever faults could be named against the Shepherd, he could not be less than relentless in pursuing his prey. He would find some way to track them back to this place and she could no longer watch from a distance. She gathered up her robe and slid over the threshold, down to the gutter, then over into the holly and the evergreen ivy.

Her eyes were fixed on Theodore as she righted herself. He was motioning for silence as he disappeared into the open grave. Al-amin turned and stood at attention, his gentle smile suddenly disappearing. Before she turned, she knew that the Shepherd had returned. Turning on him, she cried out with what sound she could manage, wailed against him, crying the names of her sons.

The Shepherd stood, as impassable as all the gods he worshipped, as unmoving as stone. He set the Abbess back at arms length, to better speak to her in a way she would understand.

Our son is not lost. I have found him.

Where is he? Take me to him.

No, I must speak with him first. He may know where Theodore lives.

Theodore is alive? I cannot bear your falsehood.

How could she lie to him, her Shepherd? She tried to gather her thoughts, but found it impossible.How long could she keep him from tracing their steps to the grave, to freedom?

As if reading her thoughts, a look of recognition passed over his face. He called to Al-amin, who did his best to hide any emotion. Anna could see him fixing his eyes on Shepherd to avoid looking down at the trampled ground or up at the dismembered window.

Friend, what have you done?

I prepared a grave, just as you ordered.

And shared false hopes with my wife, or worse?

I never…

What are all these footprints? Where are my girls? I see they have been here also.

Master, let me explain…Avoiding the ground, Al-amin’s eyes glanced upward.

Anna tried to intervene: We broke the window, the last window. I thought I saw El-azar here, but it was only Al-amin. I was hysterical. It was not his fault. I sent them back to their room.

All the time Anna was signing, Shepherd was making his way to the grave, to Al-amin. Only once did he glance back at the broken window, as if it was of no consequence to him. He was focused on the plot of freshly dug earth where the garden had been. When he reached his friend, he snatched away the shovel and turned to speak.

Anna, go. See to the girls. I will come soon to discipline them.

Anna stood her ground, shaking her head.

Anna, leave us. I have business with my Friend.

She stood resolute. She could match him for stubbornness, if that was required.

Before her next thought, Shepherd struck Al-amin across the face with the flat of the shovel, shoving his staggering frame into the grave with the grip. Before Anna could reach them, he pierced the body of their friend with the tip of the blade.

Anna held her counsel. Gathering all of her courage, she stepped past her husband, jumping into the grave with Al-amin’s dying body.

Bury me. Bury me alive. Bury me now and do not look back.

The Shepherd was stunned, confounded.

What shepherd seeks to kill and destroy? Bury us now. Bury me with my sisters. Bury me with my Father. To me you are Nameless! Anna pulled armfulls of dirt into the grave around her feet, around her friend.

When she could stand no longer, she lay down, cowering at the foot of the grave. She prayed as earth rained down, slowly reaching one hand out to the tunnel. She prayed as the shovel tamped down the soil, her arm outstretched in airy darkness. She prayed as the rhythm of receding footsteps crossed the sod. With one hope, she pressed against her friend’s boots, unfolding, unfurling, springing into a path, a passage, a different direction, a new life. Her strength spent, she found the tunnel floor, breathed the cool air and waited for her children to find her there, a newborn soul.