After pondering what it all meant for a moment, she decided it must be another part of the trial. She was expected to choose one of the masks, and then, perhaps, the way would be opened. It seemed so obvious as to be facile. She took down the mask of her own face, which creepily felt as if it was made of real skin.
She paused just before she pressed it into place. It was too easy. What was the point of it? If it was a trial, it had to call on something in her character, surely. She sat down against the foot of the wall and placed the mask face down on the floor next to her. Arthur Lee sniffed at it curiously, then came to settle in her lap. She stroked him while she thought.
What was the meaning of the first test? she wondered. She turned it over in her mind for a little while, and decided it had to be faith. She had just put her trust, and her life, completely in the hands of the Higher Power. And she had clearly passed that test.
But this one? She eyed the blank mask, then stood up and took it down. It was cold and unlifelike to the touch. She glanced between the two masks, and remembered the Servant's warning about the price that would be paid.
Finally she thought she had it. She steeled herself and pressed the blank mask to her face. It fit perfectly, and was cool and soothing against her skin. Two things happened at once: she heard the streaming wall of water dry up and disappear, and there was a loud pock near her feet.
She removed the mask and looked down to see with horror two spikes protruding from the inside of the mask of her face, just where her eyes would have been if she had been wearing it. She steadied herself against the wall, dizzy at how close she had come.
The blank mask, she decided, was symbolic of her acceptance of a lack of identity, or humility in the presence of the Goddess. Faith and humility — two things she would need in the hidden sanctum.
Now extremely cautious about what other trials might lie ahead, she rehung the blank mask on the wall and moved along the corridor. It sloped downwards, illustrated scenes from the history of the baths decorating the walls.
As she rounded a corner, she caught her breath when she was confronted by a figure. At first she thought it was the Servant, but this figure was short and hunched, wearing rough grey robes and a hood that plunged all features into deepest shadow. In fact, from Mary's perspective it looked as if there was no face in the hood at all.
'Two trials have you passed,' said the hooded figure, an old woman from the sound of her voice. She held up two gnarled fingers. 'This third is final, and the most important. One simple question. Answer wisely and you shall pass. The wrong answer will condemn you to death, and worse, damnation: the ultimate fate. Your spirit will never pass to the Grey Lands. Here in this place you will remain, forced to live out what might have been and never can.'
Mary took a deep breath, knowing it was too late to back out. One simple question didn't sound like much, but Mary knew it would undoubtedly be the hardest of all the trials: the final hurdle. 'Go on,' she said anxiously.
'As you wish. What is the darkest secret in your heart?'
Mary brought herself up sharp, all the potential pitfalls lining up before her. Of all her secrets, how could she possibly know which was the darkest?
The hooded woman appeared to read her thoughts. She wagged her finger in caution. 'No little secret will do. No second-darkest secret. But you know, in your heart of hearts, what is the worst — one you have never dared tell anyone else for fear they would hate you. One you have never dared admit to yourself. Choose wisely.'
Mary closed her eyes and thought. Behind the panic, she realised she did know; and she had never been able to face up to it.
'Speak.'
'I can't.'
'Then die.' Mary gave a juddering sigh as she struggled to contain her emotion, and then, with cracking voice, she let it rise for the first time. 'My mother was dying. We hadn't got on for a long while. I was a little rebel, always saying and doing things I knew would annoy her. If I had sex with a boy — even a one-night stand at a party — I'd tell her, just to shock her. Or if I took drugs. It was the sixties. We all used to do things like that back then… at least, that's the excuse I've always told myself. It is an excuse. We're all responsible for our own actions. We can never blame anyone else for anything.' She was talking to herself, but it sounded as if someone else was speaking about a person she didn't know.'I look back on myself as I was then and I hate myself. I thought I was so sophisticated, so clever… cleverer than my parents. They didn't know anything about this whole new world we were carving out for ourselves back then. How naive. How fucking naive and callous! I thought I was so smart, but I was more stupid than anyone!'
She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Her eyes had filled with tears, but she wasn't looking at the hooded woman. Her vision was turned in on that time, sundrenched and long buried. 'I'd walked out a while before, telling my mother I didn't need her holding me back any more. The woman who raised me and sacrificed everything for me! I didn't need her! And she called… she told me she was dying.' Her words choked in her throat; she didn't think she could continue.
'You must speak it all!' the hooded woman prompted.
Mary calmed herself, but it felt as if there was a rock in her chest. 'I told her I was going away with this boy. She said it was urgent. I told her not to be so dramatic… she was always being a drama queen. I said I was going away and I'd call her when I got back. We went off to some free festival, took lots of drugs, had lots of sex, and then I came back and I still didn't call her. The secret? I hadn't forgotten. I just didn't want to deal with all that death stuff. A bummer. I was having too much of a good time to be brought down. And I wouldn't miss her — I mean, we didn't get on at all!'
She stared into the middle distance, watching the dreadful scene play out before her. 'I remember where I was when I got the call that she had died. I was in my flat, high on acid, listening to Love play "Alone Again Or" with some boy whose name I didn't know. And I laughed. I laughed and laughed and hung up the phone and told him I was free.'
Mary covered her face for a long minute.
'What I did back then broke me. It turned me into a different person. That was the price I paid for my actions. I did miss her. I missed her more and more with each passing year, and if I could go back and make amends I'd give up everything, even my life. But I can't, so I have to live with it, knowing I'm a terrible person, knowing what I lost by being so stupid and selfish and cruel… and worthless. I missed a few hours with a person who loved me in a way I would never be loved again, someone who sacrificed everything, who devoted her whole life to raising me. And that's the most valuable thing in the world… the Holy Grail… and I threw it away. I deserve every terrible thing that's ever happened to me. I deserve to be lonely and unloved in my old age.' She drew herself up to her full height and looked into the shadows of the old woman's hood. 'That's my darkest secret. And now I've admitted it I don't care if I live or die. I don't care if you condemn me to some eternal damnation. Could it be any worse than my life now? I don't think so.'
The hooded woman remained silent for a full minute, her head turned towards Mary, swaying a little from side to side. Then she said in a voice so gentle it was shocking, 'Welcome, sister. You have proved yourself to be a true and good person, filled with faith and humility, able to shine the light of truth into the darkest part of her heart. You have no secrets before what lies ahead. And she loves you, as your mother loved you. And she will care for you.'
Tears sprang to Mary's eyes. She felt like a child, unable to control herself, not knowing what she really wanted any more.