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If I get through the Manifestation, she thought, I’ll get out tomorrow night. Then she tried to mock herself for thinking she might not get through the Manifestation. What d’you think’s going to happen, ritual sacrifice?
After an evening meal of more hot water with lemon, all church members over the age of thirteen were instructed to return to their dormitories and put on the outfits laid out for them on their beds. These proved to be long white robes made of worn and much-washed cotton that might once have been old bed sheets. The loss of her tracksuit made Robin feel still more vulnerable. The now-robed women talked in hushed voices, waiting to be summoned to the temple. Robin spoke to nobody, wishing she could somehow psychically summon those who cared about her in the outside world.
When the sun had at last fallen, Becca Pirbright reappeared in the women’s dormitory, also wearing robes, though hers, like Mazu’s, were made of silk, and beaded.
‘Everyone, take off your shoes,’ Becca instructed the waiting women. ‘You’ll walk barefoot, as the Prophet walked into the sea, in pairs across the courtyard, in silence. The temple will be dark. Assistants will guide you to your places.’
They lined up obediently. Robin found herself walking next to Penny Brown, whose once-round face was now hollow and anxious. They crossed the courtyard beneath a clear, starry sky, chilly in their thin cotton robes and bare feet, and two by two entered the temple, which was indeed pitch black.
Robin felt a hand take her by the arm and was led, she assumed, past the pentagonal stage, then pushed down into a kneeling position on the floor. She no longer knew who was beside her, although she could hear rustling and breathing, nor did she know how those assisting people to their places were able to see what they were doing.
After a while, the temple doors closed with a bang. Then Jonathan Wace’s voice spoke through the darkness.
‘Together: Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu… Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu… ’
The members took up the chant. The darkness seemed to intensify the rumble and rhythm of the words, but Robin, who’d once felt relief in dissolving her voice into the mass, experienced neither euphoria nor relief; fear continued to burn like a coal lodged beneath her diaphragm.
‘… and finish,’ called Wace.
Silence fell again. Then Wace spoke:
‘Daiyu, beloved Prophet, speaker of truths, bringer of justice, come to us now in holiness. Bless us with your presence. Light the way for us, that we may see clearly into the next world.’
There was another silence in which nobody stirred. Then, clearly and loudly, came a small girl’s giggle.
‘Hello, Papa.’
Robin, who’d been kneeling with her eyes tight shut, opened them. All was dark: there was no sign of Daiyu.
‘Will you manifest for us, my child?’ said Wace’s voice.
Another pause. Then –
‘Papa, I’m afraid.’
‘You’re afraid, my child?’ said Wace. ‘You? The bravest of us, and the best?’
‘Things are wrong, Papa. Bad people have come.’
‘We know there is wickedness in the world, little one. That’s why we fight.’
‘Inside and outside,’ said the child’s voice. ‘Fight inside and outside.’
‘What does that mean, Daiyu?’
‘Clever Papa knows.’
Another silence.
‘Daiyu, do you speak of malign influences within our church?’
There was no answer.
‘Daiyu, help me. What does it mean, to fight inside and out?’
The childish voice began to wail in distress, its cries and sobs echoing off the temple walls.
‘Daiyu! Daiyu, Blessed One, don’t cry!’ said Wace, with the familiar catch in his voice. ‘Little one, I will fight for you!’
