The Testaments

59

I’d thought I had everything in order, but the best-laid plans gang aft agley, and trouble comes in threes. I write this in haste at the end of a very trying day. My office might as well have been Grand Central—before that venerable edifice was reduced to rubble during the War of Manhattan—so heavy was the foot traffic through it.

The first to make an appearance was Aunt Vidala, who turned up right after breakfast. Vidala and undigested porridge are a taxing combination: I vowed to imbibe some mint tea as soon as I might arrange it.

“Aunt Lydia, there is a matter to which I wish to draw your urgent attention,” she said.

I sighed inwardly. “Of course, Aunt Vidala. Do sit down.”

“I won’t take much of your time,” she said, settling herself in the chair in preparation for doing just that. “It’s about Aunt Victoria.”

“Yes? She and Aunt Immortelle are soon to set off on their Pearl Girls mission to Canada.”

“That is what I wish to consult you about. Are you sure they are ready for it? They are young for their ages—even more so than the other Supplicants of their generation. Neither of them have had any experience of the wider world, but some of the others have at least firmness of character that is lacking in these two. They are, you might say, malleable; they will be overly susceptible to the material temptations on offer in Canada. Also, in my opinion, Aunt Victoria is a defection risk. She has been reading some questionable material.”

“I trust you are not calling the Bible questionable,” I said.

“Certainly not. The material to which I refer is her own Bloodlines file from the Genealogical Archives. It will give her dangerous ideas.”

“She does not have access to the Bloodlines Genealogical Archives,” I said.

“Someone must have obtained the file for her. I happen to have seen it on her desk.”

“Who would have done that without my authorization?” I said. “I must make inquiries; I cannot have insubordination. But I am sure Aunt Victoria is, by now, resistant to dangerous ideas. Despite your opinion of her juvenility, I believe she has achieved an admirable maturity and strength of mind.”

“A thin facade,” said Vidala. “Her theology is very shaky. Her notion of prayer is fatuous. She was frivolous as a child and recalcitrant when it came to her school duties, especially the handicrafts. Also, her mother was—”

“I know who her mother was,” I said. “The same can be said of many of our most respected younger Wives, who are the biological progeny of Handmaids. But degeneracy of that sort is not necessarily inherited. Her adoptive mother was a model of rectitude and patient suffering.”

“That is true as concerns Tabitha,” said Aunt Vidala. “But, as we know, Aunt Victoria’s original mother is a particularly flagrant case. Not only did she disregard her duty, abandon her appointed post, and defy those set in Divine Authority over her, but she was the prime mover in the stealing of Baby Nicole from Gilead.”

“Ancient history, Vidala,” I said. “It is our mission to redeem, not to condemn on purely contingent grounds.”

“Certainly, as regards Victoria; but that mother of hers ought to be cut into twelve pieces.”

“No doubt,” I said.

“There is a credible rumour that she’s working with Mayday Intelligence, in Canada, on top of her other treasons.”

“We win some, we lose some,” I said.

“That is an odd way of putting it,” said Aunt Vidala. “It is not a sport.”

“It is kind of you to offer me your observations on acceptable speech,” I said. “As for your insights on Aunt Victoria, the proof will be in the pudding. I am sure she will complete her Pearl Girls assignment most satisfactorily.”

“We shall see,” said Aunt Vidala with a half-smile. “But if she defects, kindly remember that I warned you.”

Next to arrive was Aunt Helena, all apuff from limping over from the library. Increasingly her feet are a bother to her.

“Aunt Lydia,” she said. “I feel you should be aware that Aunt Victoria has been reading her own Bloodlines file from the Genealogical Archives without authorization. I believe that, in view of her biological mother, it is most unwise.”

“I have just been informed of this fact by Aunt Vidala,” I said. “She shares your view as to the feebleness of Aunt Victoria’s moral fibre. But Aunt Victoria was well brought up, and has had the best education at one of our prime Vidala Schools. Is it your theory that nature will win out over nurture? In which case, the original sinfulness of Adam will assert itself in all of us despite our rigorous efforts to stamp it out, and I am afraid our Gilead project will be doomed.”

“Oh surely not! I didn’t mean to imply that,” Helena said, alarmed.

“You’ve read Agnes Jemima’s Bloodlines file yourself?” I asked her.

“Yes, many years ago. It was restricted at that time to the Founding Aunts.”

“We made the correct decision. Had the knowledge that Baby Nicole was Aunt Victoria’s half-sister been widely disseminated, it would have been detrimental to her development as a child. I now believe that some of the more unscrupulous within Gilead might have attempted to use her as a bargaining chip in their attempts to retrieve Baby Nicole, had they been aware of the relationship.”

“I had not thought of that,” said Aunt Helena. “Of course you are right.”

“It may interest you to know,” I said, “that Mayday is cognizant of the sisterly relationship; they have had Baby Nicole within their grasp for some time. It is thought they may wish to reunite her with her degenerate mother, since her adoptive parents have died suddenly. In an explosion,” I added.

Aunt Helena twisted her claw-like little hands. “Mayday is ruthless, they would think nothing of placing her in the care of a moral criminal such as her mother, or even of sacrificing an innocent young life.”

“Baby Nicole is quite safe,” I said.

“Praise be!” said Aunt Helena.

“Though she is as yet ignorant of the fact that she is Baby Nicole,” I said. “But we hope soon to see her take her rightful place in Gilead. There is now a chance.”

“I rejoice to hear it. But should she indeed arrive among us, we must proceed carefully in the matter of her true identity,” said Aunt Helena. “We must break it to her gently. Such revelations can destabilize a vulnerable mind.”

“My thoughts exactly. But in the meantime I would like you to observe the movements of Aunt Vidala. I fear it is she who has placed the Bloodlines file in the hands of Aunt Victoria, to what end I can’t imagine. Possibly she wishes Aunt Victoria to be overwhelmed with despair at the news of her degenerate parentage, and be thrown into an unsettled spiritual state, and make some rash misstep.”

“Vidala never liked her,” said Aunt Helena. “Even when she was at school.”

She limped away, happy to have been given a commission.

As I was sitting in the Schlafly Café having my late-afternoon cup of mint tea, Aunt Elizabeth hurried in. “Aunt Lydia!” she wailed. “There have been Eyes and Angels in Ardua Hall! It was like an invasion! You didn’t sanction this?”

“Calm yourself,” I said. My own heart was beating fast and thick. “Where, exactly, were they?”

“In the print shop. They confiscated all our Pearl Girls brochures. Aunt Wendy protested, and I am sorry to say she was arrested. They actually laid hands on her!” She shuddered.

“This is unprecedented,” I said, rising to my feet. “I shall demand a meeting with Commander Judd immediately.”

I headed for my office, intending to use the red direct-line telephone, but there was no need: Judd was there before me. He must have simply barged in, pleading an emergency. So much for our agreed-on sacred separate sphere. “Aunt Lydia. I felt an explanation of my action was in order,” he said. He was not smiling.

“I am sure there is an excellent one,” I said, allowing a little coldness into my voice. “The Eyes and Angels have greatly overstepped the bounds of decency, not to mention those of custom and law.”

“All in the service of your good name, Aunt Lydia. May I sit down?” I gestured to the chair. We sat.

“After a number of dead ends, we came to the conclusion that the microdots I informed you about must have been passed to and fro between Mayday and an unknown contact here in Ardua Hall through the unwitting agency of the brochures that the Pearl Girls were distributing.” He paused to note my response.

“You astonish me!” I said. “What effrontery!” I was wondering what had taken them so long. But then microdots are very small, and who would think to suspect our attractive and orthodox recruiting materials? No doubt the Eyes wasted a lot of time inspecting shoes and undergarments. “Do you have proof?” I asked. “And if so, who was the rotten apple in our barrel?”

“We raided the Ardua Hall print shop, and retained Aunt Wendy for questioning. It seemed the most direct path to the truth.”

“I cannot believe Aunt Wendy is implicated,” I said. “That woman is incapable of devising such a scheme. She has the brain of a guppy. I suggest you release her immediately.”

“So we have concluded. She will recover from the shock in the Calm and Balm Clinic,” he said.

That was a relief to me. No pain unless necessary, but if necessary, pain. Aunt Wendy is a useful idiot but harmless as a pea. “What did you discover?” I said. “Were any of these microdots, as you call them, on those brochures that had been newly printed?”

“No, though an inspection of brochures recently returned from Canada yielded several dots containing maps and other items that must have been appended to them by Mayday. The unknown traitor within us must have realized that the elimination of The Clothes Hound end of the operation has rendered that pathway obsolete and has ceased to ornament the Pearl Girls brochures with classified information from Gilead.”

“I have long had my doubts about Aunt Vidala,” I said. “Aunt Helena and Aunt Elizabeth also have clearance for the print shop, and I myself have always been the one to place the new brochures in the hands of our departing Pearl Girls, so I ought to be under suspicion as well.”

Commander Judd smiled at that. “Aunt Lydia, you must have your little jokes,” he said, “even at a time like this. Others had access as well: there were several apprentice printers. But there is no evidence of wrongdoing on any of their parts, and a substitute culprit will not do in this case. We must not leave the actual perpetrator at large.”

“So we remain in the dark.”

“Unfortunately. Very unfortunately for me, and thus very unfortunately for you as well, Aunt Lydia. My stock is falling rapidly with the Council: I’ve been promising them results. I sense the cold shoulders, the abrupt greetings. I detect the symptoms of an imminent purge: both you and I will be accused of laxness to the point of treachery for letting Mayday run rings around us, right under our noses here in Ardua Hall.”

“The situation is critical,” I said.

“There’s a way to redeem ourselves,” he said. “Baby Nicole must be produced immediately and put on full display. Television, posters, a large public rally.”

“I can see the virtue of that,” I said.

“It would be even more efficacious if I could announce her betrothal to myself, and have the subsequent wedding ceremony broadcast. You and I would be untouchable then.”

“Brilliant, as usual,” I said. “But you are married.”

“How is the health of my Wife?” he asked, raising his eyebrows reproachfully.

“Better than it was,” I said, “but not as good as it might be.” How can he have been so obvious as to have employed rat poison? Even in small quantities, it is so easily detectable. Dislikeable though Shunammite may have been as a schoolgirl, I have no wish to have her join Judd’s Bluebeard’s chamber of defunct brides. She is in fact making a recovery; however, her terror at the prospect of returning to the loving arms of Judd is impeding her progress. “I fear she will have a relapse,” I said.

He sighed. “I will pray for her release from suffering,” he said.

“And I am sure your prayers will be answered soon.” We gazed at each other across my desk.

“How soon?” he could not resist asking.

“Soon enough,” I said.