Sister Pelagia and the Black Monk Read Free Page B

looked up, and Holy Mother of God! There was a black shadow hanging above the waves without seeming to touch them, and he could hear words, but not clearly. All Agapii could make out was ‘I curse’ and ‘Basilisk,’ but that was more than enough for him. He abandoned the things he'd been washing, ran back to the brothers’ cells as fast as his legs would carry him, and started shouting, saying that Basilisk had returned, full of wrath, and he was cursing everyone.
“Agapii's a foolish boy—he hasn't been at Ararat for long—so no one believed him. And for the underclothes he'd left behind, which were washed away by the waves, the father assistant healer gave his ears a good pulling. But after that the dark shadow began appearing to some of the other brothers: first to Father Ilarii, a most venerable and restrained senior monk, then to Brother Melchisedek, and after that to Brother Diomid. Every time at night, when there was a moon. Everybody heard different words: some heard a curse, some heard an admonition, and some couldn't make anything out at all—it depended on which way the wind was blowing. But they all saw the same thing, and they kissed the icon in front of Revered Father Vitalii to swear to it: someone dressed in black vestments down to his heels and a sharp-pointed cowl, like the monks on the island wear, floating above the waves, speaking words and raising his finger threateningly.
“After making inquiries about the miraculous events, the archimandrite scolded the brothers roundly. He said, ‘I know you whisperers: one fool blurts out something and the others are only too happy to ring the bells and spread the news. It's true what they say: monks are worse tittle-tattles than gossipy old women.’ And he rebuked them in all sorts of other ways, and then strictly forbade anyone to go after dark to the side of Canaan where the Lenten Spit stretches out toward Outskirts Island.”
His Grace interrupted the monk's story at this point: “Yes, I remember. Father Vitalii wrote to me about the stupid rumors and complained about the monks’ weak-wittedness. In his opinion, it comes from idleness and inactivity, and so he asked my blessing to involve the entire brotherhood up to the rank of hieromonk in work useful to the community. I gave my blessing.”
Sister Pelagia took advantage of the break in the story to ask quickly, “Tell me, Brother, approximately how far is it from the place where Basilisk has been seen to Outskirts Island? And does the spit stretch out far into the water? And another thing: Where exactly was the shadow floating—right beside the hermitage or some distance away from it?”
Antipa blinked and gaped at this highly inquisitive nun, but he answered the questions: “From the spit to Outskirts Island would be about three hundred and fifty feet. And as for our patron, before me the others only saw him in the distance; they couldn't make him out clearly from our shore. But Basilisk came up really close to me, about from here to that picture.” He pointed to a photographic portrait of the Governor of Zavolzhie on the opposite wall, which was about fifteen paces away.
“Not just ‘some kind of shadow,’ but Saint Basilisk himself?” the bishop roared at the monk and clutched his beard in his fist, which was the way he expressed his mounting irritation. “Vitalii's right! You monks are worse than market women!”
Antipa cringed at these terrible words, pulling his head down into his shoulders, and was unable to carry on speaking, so that Pelagia was obliged to come to his assistance. She straightened her steel-rimmed spectacles, tucked away a rebellious lock of ginger hair under her veronica, and said reproachfully, “Your Grace, you're always talking about the harmfulness of hasty conclusions. Why not listen to the holy father without interrupting?”
That made Antipa even more frightened, for he was certain that the primate would be absolutely furious at such insolence; but