by Roman Blair
“Have you reached a conclusion?” Eireas asked as we approached the group.
“We have,” I announced, and smiled brightly. “We are staying.”
No other words were needed. He and his advisors stood to embrace us, so delighted they were to hear of our decision.
*
I heard Rémy’s footfalls close behind me as we continued walking through the dark wood. I turned to look upon him. His face was still full of that youthful enthusiasm which I so admired. His beautiful blonde hair seemed to glow in the starlight. He met my gaze and I smiled at him. He had made the decision to stay before any of us, and I could not be happier to know that I would remain at his side. We could converse about any topic and share anything we wished without fear of judgment. I was truly lucky to have found such a friend, and it pleased me greatly to know he felt the same.
Walking behind him, I saw the fifth member of our silent procession. Captain Travert looked very odd in the local attire. Not that it didn’t suit him; I was simply unaccustomed to seeing him out of his old-world clothing. I could tell from his expression that he wasn’t entirely comfortable in the tunic, but his disposition was not the type to fight tradition. I smiled recalling the surprise of his words to us the day before.
“Well I am very glad to hear it,” he had rasped after I made our announcement. “I would have been too guilt-ridden to send a pair of ladies into a storm without a captain at the helm of their ship.”
“Are you implying that you will also be staying, Captain?” Lady Pearson asked after a few baffled moments. “I must confess, I did not expect to hear that!” We all nodded in agreement.
“As Rémy pointed out to me,” he explained, “I am a man of the sea, and the sea has changed little, even here. Mind you, my choice would have been different if our final destination was no mystery. But as it stands, I shan’t risk the loss of my nephew, and this utopia, for nothing.” Rémy beamed at the words and we rejoiced. All except Daniel, who sat in silence. He would be making the journey alone.
“We must celebrate this wonderful news!” Sarmia had exclaimed. “We must plan a binding ceremony for tomorrow night!”
“What is a binding ceremony?” I asked.
“It is part of something this world holds quite dear,” Daniel answered. “It intrigued me, so I asked about it in Alexandria. If I remember correctly, it is the belief that all living things are bound by a sacred energy, which can be felt by the mind as well as the body, though we may not always be aware.”
“Yes,” Eireas affirmed. “You surprise me, Daniel. I did not think you took an interest in our ways.”
The priest gave no response.
“The ceremony,” Sarmia continued, "is typically first undertaken at the age of twelve, though it is repeated for a significant life event. It is performed at night, at one of the ancient temples.”
“What is required of us to undertake it?” I asked.
“There is a chant which will be sung by those attending,” she divulged. “You will be asked to read its words beforehand, and only participate if you believe in its message.”
*
We continued walking through the dark wood. I heard the chanting long before I discerned the light which marked our destination. Lady Pearson led us toward the ancient temple as she had been instructed. The chorus of the gathered locals called to us like the song of the mythical sirens. The melody was exceptionally beautiful. The trees acted as columns of a great outdoor cathedral. The sky above us, a brilliant and living ceiling. My arms erupted in goose bumps from the emotional toll of the ritual.
I consciously took in all the detail around me for I knew that I would be writing of it shortly thereafter. I had spent the remainder of the previous day devoted to these memoirs. I wished to conclude my recollection of this strange and fantastical voyage. But I also realized these pages were no longer written only for me. With the confirmation of Daniel’s return, I intended to send this journal into the storm as well, in the hopes that it should reach the shores of Earth and convey our tale.
We had dined gloriously upon returning to Paphos the day prior. Laughter and music emanated from countless homes in the port town as we feasted on a delicious taro root stew. Beer was served in place of wine that evening, and the brew complemented our fare wonderfully. We had retired to our apartments after dinner, and I was preparing for sleep when I heard an unexpected knock at my door.
*
The chanting of the gathered masses had gotten much louder as we walked through the dim wood. We emerged from the darkness of the trees into a clearing. The temple stood at the center of the little field: a set of simple columns around a circular platform of dilapidated white stone. The assembly was undoubtedly ancient. Two of the pillars were broken and the cracks of the foundation were thick with emerging vines. A fire burned from within a large bronze bowl at its center.
Etia Yawa stood beside the fire. It seemed fitting that the woman who had first greeted us upon the island should be the first to welcome us as its residents. King Eireas, Sarmia, and a hundred other Capribians encircled the little monument as they continued their entrancing hymn. Torches protruded from the earth and engulfed the area in dancing light.
We followed Lady Pearson up the platform. I distinguished the indentations of countless sandals which have stepped foot onto the polished steps over the centuries. We fanned out into a crescent before the Etia. The chanting around us increased in intensity as we bowed our heads to the woman. Her eyes were as warm then as when she first gazed upon us.
She turned to Lady Pearson and placed a wreath of herbs around her neck. She moved in order through our group. Ella and I, Rémy, and Travert likewise received a necklace of dried herbs. At the rear of our group, whom I hadn’t seen in the darkness of the wood, was Daniel. He bowed his head as he accepted the wreath and I looked upon him and smiled.
I had been thoroughly startled to see him standing at my bedroom door when I answered the knock the night before. “Father,” I said, “what can I do for you?”
“I wonder, Mr. Laurence, if you would be good enough to speak to me for a moment.”
I had scrutinized him for several seconds. His typically dour expression had been replaced by one of uncertainty. “Please, come in,” I finally replied.
“Thank you.” He stepped into my room and I closed the door.
“This truly is a surprise,” I admitted.
“I can imagine. I have not been easy to get along with on this journey, and for that I must apologize.” I could only look upon him in bewilderment. “It’s just that,” he continued, “I have given much thought today to the words of our companions, our hosts, and yourself. You saw something in this place from the very start, and I am beginning to realize what a fool I have been to reject it.”
“I see…”
“I did not come here for forgiveness,” he explained, “for words alone cannot express my feelings at this moment. But I believe actions can, though I would like to ask your advice before proceeding.”
I had taken a seat on the bed, still quite uncertain of what was transpiring.
“The Capribians must think very poorly of me,” he confessed, “especially the King. But I do not want to be remembered as corrupt and unyielding. I was not always that way, and I do not wish to be again.”
“I am not sure how I can help,” I replied.
He looked nervously at the floor. “If our hosts allow it, and with the blessing of you and our companions, I would like to stay.”
I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. “What changed your mind?” I asked.
“Something Rémy said earlier,” he had admitted, “about the irony of seeing so much care in a world without religion. I began to re-examine my own values. I'm a devout follower of my faith, and yet I deliberately committed a great sin. But these people, living in what the church describes as extreme blasphemy, have been more kind-hearted than any I have ever known. Their care is genuine. And you were right, Mr. Laurence, t
hey did not have a price. Not a monetary one, anyway.”
“But they have expectations of another kind,” I warned. “Respecting others without discriminating against them is more than just a moral code here, it is a legal one as well.”
“That’s just it,” Daniel said. “Those are the very ideals which drove me to the priesthood to begin with. Faith can be a beautiful thing, Mr. Laurence. I know you do not share those beliefs, but I can understand your point of view a little more now; I realize how much the work of others can tarnish its beauty. The King was right when he said beliefs must be internal. I was so focused on spreading mine that I had abandoned them in the process. The organization of something as immaterial as spirituality is always bound to fail.”
I could not help but smile. “It sounds to me like you have discovered the open mind which these words speak of.” I showed him the electric paper which Sarmia had given to us. It contained the lyrics of the hymn which would be sung during the binding ceremony. “Perhaps you are ready to take the first step into a new life with us tomorrow.”
“Oh I really shouldn’t,” Daniel admitted. “I do not want to spoil a joyous event. Maybe one day, but it would not be appropriate right now.”
“No,” I agreed, “Not while you are on bad terms with those who are undertaking it. But you have all day tomorrow to talk with our group. I cannot speak for them, but I suspect you have time to make peace.”
*
The choir around the ancient temple continued to chant their lovely hymn. They sang of a purity of spirit, of open minds, and open hearts. The words recognized our connections to all life. They acknowledged the fact that we are all descended from the same parents. They rejoiced in being part of the eternal energy of the universe. Yawa stepped off the platform and joined the mass in singing the final verse. We approached the fire within the large bronze bowl and grasped the herbs which she had placed around our necks. The chant became louder and more powerful, with voices upon voices blending beautifully to create an altogether new melody.
And then the chanting ceased abruptly. We were engulfed in the silence of the night, with only the crackling of the fire before us. As we had been instructed, we closed our eyes and tore off the packets of herbs from our necklaces. We were asked to associate each bundle with a part of ourselves that we would like to improve, a negative energy which blocked our growth, or an action which we regretted and would not like to repeat. I shan’t share my thoughts during this portion of the ritual, for I wish to preserve its intimacy, but we threw the herbs onto the fire one bundle at a time, symbolically releasing the negative energy from within us. The emerging smoke wafted into the air like heavenly incense and I could feel myself lighten with a release of emotion. We cast our last bundles into the flames and the gathered crowd erupted in cheers. We had become one with the masses.
*
I wish with every fiber of my being that this little tome reaches the shores of my distant Earth. The Capribians have generously offered to copy these memoires for me. The original journal will be sent into the approaching storm within a protected case.
I wrote earlier how distraught I was that a minor change in history could have such widespread outcomes. But thinking about it now, I cannot help but feel some relief. A single action can initiate change, but it’s up to the people to see it through. After all, our society is not a natural phenomenon. It was created over time with the voices of countless individuals. Greater changes may take centuries, or millennia, but now I know that they are possible.
Building upon the achievements of our ancestors is natural, but we should not preserve their faults. It only took a few generations for the Lisispal to rid itself of constant war. The resulting peace provided a forum to thoughts which had hitherto been neglected. This world could not turn back to the old ways after witnessing this change, and neither could we. Whatever our place in society, our beliefs, or our gender, we were offered something here which our old lives could not provide.
I thought of this as I took Ella’s hand on that ancient platform and we exchanged a kiss in the firelight. Lady Pearson came to embrace us. King Eireas stepped up and put his arms around Rémy. Daniel shook hands with the captain, and they were each hugged by the advisors.
Time seemed to slow as we stood among the cheers. I had the opportunity to look at each of my companions in turn. Something changed in us that night which I knew would follow us in our hearts forever. We did, indeed, become bound to the world around us. We came to realize, as Rémy so wisely put it, that we are all echoes of the same song.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book would not have been completed without two very special people in my life.
The first is my mother, who eagerly read the early drafts of this story when I was twelve years old. Her constant support of all my endeavors has motivated me to pursue more interests than I can count. She has been an impeccable role model in all things and I am proud to have inherited her spirit of optimism, respect, and rationality.
The second is my dear friend Liza, who acted as both editor and cheerleader throughout the final writing process. Her infectious enthusiasm and insightful feedback kept me on track. Considering the overwhelming amount of projects I have started without completing, this gift was more valuable than she realizes.
I would also be remiss if I did not mention my beloved cat, Bessy, whose warmth and affection accompanied the writing of much of this text.