Voices of the Stars

by Rowena Whaling

  I close now – Bedwyr.

  Chapter 4

  Morgan of the Woods

  Morgan

  Perhaps it is now Time for me to write upon these pages of the beauty of the Isle of Apples, this place that I call my home...

  There is an ancient Hill rising from the Island, the steep sides of which – at some Time lost in memory – people had adapted into a great spiral pathway twining its way up to the summit. On top of it, there are Standing Stones which our Ancestors had lain up there. There is also, in the center of the circle of Stones, a great clear green Stone. It is said that this is not a Stone of the Earth, but one which fell from the Stars, and it is greatly revered. This Hill is called The Tor.

  Everywhere you look on the Tor there are Wildflowers mingling with the Mosses and Ferns. Everything smells so sweet in Summer that the Butterflies, Bees and Glow-flies Love to linger there – all of which adds to the Enchantment of this place.

  Here upon the Isle, we have a long Time of the pink and white blossoming of the Apple Trees at Winter’s End. And then, a longer Fruit season than in most regions of Briton.

  Even though it is not so many Days walk East of here, on the plains where the great Hanging Stones are, the Winters seem much colder and harsher. Perhaps it is the Winds which make it seem so. No matter the cloak, the chill pierces the bones!

  I have heard stories of people and children being carried off by the Wind Spirits up into the Clouds never to be been seen again. I doubt these tales’ truthfulness.

  This place, which has become my home, is called the “Island of the Inland Sea” by some –because, for much of the Time, Water comes from the great Western Sea inland through Rivers, Streams and canals – some of which were handmade – to completely surround it.

  Each morning, and then again each evening as the Sun disk sinks below the horizon, the reedy Water and all the land – save the Tor – is hidden within deep Mists. They cover the Water as well, so that when you stand atop the Tor, you feel as if you are on a Mountain of the Gods. You can see nothing but beautiful rolling Mist which, it is said, holds a powerful Enchantment. It is also said that “Within the Mists, all the secrets of the Cosmos can be found.” And, if one can truly become one with the Mist, then one would feel the experience of being one with the ALL.

  I have gone many times to the center of the Stone Circle where the Green Star Stone is and where are laid the offerings to the Goddess. Betimes I feel that I see the Star Stone glowing – although perhaps that is with the Vision of the “Sight” and not with the vision of my eyes.

  Our land is also called the Isle of Apples. This is for two reasons: The first being our many orchards, which are filled with Apple Trees. They are native to our land and they flourish on their own, with very little need of tending.

  Within each season they provide a different source of usefulness.

  In the Time of Red and Gold Leaves, none surpass the Apple Tree in colour. Once the Apples are picked, the Earth Goddess leaves behind the pallet of Her greatest beauty.

  Then come the Snows. From Sun rise to set, each bare bow and branch glistens with a crystalline glow, each defining their own exquisite silhouette, due to the heavy moisture in the Air of the land within the Lake. Even on Moonlit Nights through the dark of Winter, they glisten.

  Near the Moon of Planting, the Apple Blossoms come in all of their glory. Some of our oldest Apple Trees – those which will in late Summer give small green Fruit – bloom with white blossoms of fine fragrance. Then shortly thereafter, the Trees that will later produce somewhat larger and more colourful Apples, blossom in the most delicate colour of pink – although these Trees are a bit less fragrant.

  During Harvests, along with the Grains and Vines, the Apples come into their full glorious fruiting. Even beyond the obvious delights of taste and fragrance – it is said that the Apple is one of the foods of the Gods – they being one of the most healthful foods one can eat. They also provide much vigorous exercise for those of us who must pick them, warding off sluggishness through the Feast of The Longest Night, the Winter Calming, and beyond.

  For Time out of memory the Apple has been a symbol of the Great Goddess. The Fruit of the Apple is as sweet as Love. Their shapes and colours are beautiful. And when you cut an Apple in half, you will see a five-pointed Star! – an ancient symbol of the great Star Goddess – and I am told, a symbol of protection, from ours even to the most distant and ancient of lands. Try opening an Apple now, if there be one wherever you are. Take a knife and cut through it across its middle. Do you see the Star? It has always been there. The Star in our tradition is also a symbol of the four earthly directions – or the four Elements – topped by “the Aether” – or covered by Spirit. These have long been held as Sacred Wisdoms.

  Our Island has been a haven of Goddess worshipers for perhaps as long as Humans have stood upon this ground. Perhaps, even, before my Ancestors arrived here.

  I believe it was for all of these reasons that The Merlin was beguiled by our Isle. Who could not but be?

  Oh yes, as I have been writing this page, I just now remembered a certain conversation which Gwyddion and I had shared. It was this:

  Many travelers have come to ask our Wise Mothers profound questions; for their Wisdom and Knowledge of the Mysteries is renowned. One question which seems oft repeated is: “Why are there so many different Goddesses worshiped – and sacrificed to – in the world of men?”

  Well, I think... and Gwyddion agreed the answer to that just might be that long, long ago, before the world was made, the Great Initiator had spit forth Divine Powers – Male and Female, which had then become Self Aware – or perhaps, better said, Conscious. Perhaps, at that Time, they knew what They were, but not who They were.

  Then came the sequence in the great Creation for Worlds, living beings of Stone, green, and flesh to come to be.

  What if, at that Time, these Divine conscious beings sought out the others... those of the Worlds of form? What might this interaction have caused?

  We theorized that perhaps each culture of this world had – and has – its own particular needs, each according to their own way of living. Perhaps it was that when these new beings of flesh and blood called out to the Great One, these male and female Spirit Beings wished to aid them along their way. Perhaps then the Two wished to become many... many Goddesses and Gods to answer many diverse peoples’ needs. Perhaps this attraction was shared between the Gods and the worlds of men, such that they formed together, each their own identities out of their mutual need or desire... such that a hunting society might worship the White Moon Goddess or the Stag horned God; whereas a fiercer people might call to the Eastern Goddess Ishtar or the Alban Cailleach. Nomadic people of a landscape of harsh desert or a farming people might call to Sol, Re, or Apollo. Do you understand my words?

  Of course, these are merely speculations.

  Think of it, though – why should the Gods not be able to show many faces? Even we as Humans show ourselves in many differing ways to many different people. A Mother, for example, always shows herself as Mother to her children. To her lover, she is quite the different person. If that lover works a farm with her, then during those endeavours she appears – and acts yet a different person than while entwined in passion. To her own Mother, she is ever child. To a friend she is confidant and merry-maker. If she be a Healer, Seer, or Wise Woman, to one in need she is ever seen as a Crone – and this regardless of her age. We are all – and all perceived as – different people at different times according to different needs or desires. Why, then, could not the Gods be?

  But, as I said, this is just what our thoughts were.

  There is no denying that all people want to understand the Gods and Spirits. It is within us all to feel the draw of the Great One. Yet we commune with the many. Even those who acknowledge but one God still have their Angels and Saints – be they friend or enemy.

  Some may like to call Them sister Goddesses or Brother Gods. Or, some may like to call
Them mirror or shadow images of each other. Really – what difference does it make what we call Them – only that we call Them. For are we not all the progeny – the Creation – indeed the substance of the Great ONE?

  Thus goes the ancient ‘Chant of Enlightenment’:

  We are all ONE... We are all ONE... We are all ONE...

  Of root and stem of heart and drum...

  Of bone and Stone and blood...

  Of feather, scale, of skin or fur

  Of HER we are the sum...

  We are all ONE... We are all ONE... We are all ONE...

  The seasons change, we dance our dance

  From birth to shroud to dust

  Time passes by – We live, we die

  From breath to death we must

  We are all ONE... We are all ONE... We are all ONE...

  …Of course it sounds much more melodious in our original tongue.

  It is said in our Mystery School that everything in Creation IS the Goddess. We only see the separation of things because we are Human.

  Oh yes, I know, I am wont to linger on the Mysteries over much. So is The Merlin and thus, of these things we can talk for hours and hours.

  Oh!... I have diverged from the topic of my writing.

  So, to continue where I left off – about our beautiful Isle of Apples.

  We are not totally isolated here. We have the little Marsh Folk’s punts to take us from the Isle to the land which surrounds it. We have contact and friendly relations with the peoples who live beyond the Tor and the Order’s lands in the nearby villages, as well as with the two hermits who live round about and the women who live at the small Christian Monastery, which are all within walking distance.

  Our closest neighbors are the Marsh Dwellers. They are a strange people, who are probably distantly related to my race. But as they have developed different customs and traditions over the millennia, no one really knows for sure who they are or from whence they have come.

  There is some trade between us – they buy the honey of my Bees and some of the wonderful cheeses and other things that we, the women and men of the Isle, produce.

  They, as well as many other people living near and far, desire our woolens – for our White Faced Sheep are acclaimed to be some of the best kept in all of the lands of the Britons – and we are known to be expert Weavers. We spin Magic into our every yarn. For, we are taught when first we arrive that to Weave is to be like the Great Goddess AIXIA, – She who Weaves Her Magic into the tapestry which is everything in Spirit and form – so when spinning the yarn itself, we “Spell” the Magic of Healing, protection, and prosperity into it. So, it is much prized.

  Now, much of what we Weave, we use ourselves. But as there is always an abundance, we sell some of our woolens to others. This brings into our coffers great amounts of gold and other goods. People come from near and far away, hoping to acquire some of the “Magic Wool.” We trust that they are blessed by it.

  However, what is kept a secret is that we also hold back enough to give to the needy who surround us.

  Near the bottom of the Tor, there is a wonderful, spectacular, and miraculous thing that happens. Not too many paces, one from the other, are two Springs which, it is said, come from far away beneath the surface of the Earth. They run through their separate passages and corridors through the ground for hundreds of leagues, as their Waters touch the soil, roots, Stones, and minerals on their way to the bottom of the Tor.

  One of them, which lies just at the base of the Tor, goes through the chalk lands, where it picks up the white residue from its passages and tunnels, and bubbles up a milky white. Some take this as a symbol of the life-giving semen of the Son/Lover/God – without whose fecundity our great Mother Earth would not return to us at “Winter’s End” to awaken the blossoms, buds, and sprouts. However, others like to say that the white Water is the milk of the Goddess’ breasts.

  The other Spring, which is not so many paces away, goes through the rocky clay lands. Her Waters pick up a red hue. Her flow stains all that it comes into contact with. We liken this Holy Water to the menstrual blood of all women, and therefore the creative life force of the Goddess.

  There was – and still is – a small Church and women’s Monastery close to our Order’s lands and very close to the bottom of the Tor. We get on well with them and aid them in any way that we can. But beside the few, here and there, there are not as many Christian folk on these, Our Fair Isles, as there once were. After the Roman rule had ended, their numbers had fallen dramatically – when “the law” no longer dictated what one could believe or practice.

  However, of the Christians still practicing their religion, some goodly number have moved into our immediate area. This is because of a great legend, which has been added as yet another layer of Mysticism to our already immortalized Wells. You see, the Yeshuites – or as they are now called “Christians”– have set up their own shrine near the Red Spring, which they call the Chalice Well. They say its red Waters symbolize the Holy Blood of Yeshua. This adds to the many quizzical and sometimes disagreeing stories surrounding their mythos.

  One is that when the God-King – the Christos – was yet a little boy, a relative of his took him on great travels, in many directions of the known world. He is said to have been a wealthy tin Merchant – as well as a great Magician.

  Legends say that one of these journeys was to the land of the Britons – to the Isle which lies within the Inland Sea. Upon this first visit, Yosef – for that was his name – and the boy spent the Night near the Red Spring. Of course, this was nothing unexpected as our Red and White Springs had been destinations of spiritual pilgrims for millennia.

  The legend goes on to say that Yosef left an offering to the Well and the Land, then stuck his much beloved and long used staff into the Earth near to it. When he awoke upon the next morning, a Thorn Tree had grown in its stead. Some people say that this Thorn is still alive, and can be visited on the grounds of the little Monastery – where it stands always “dressed” with ribbons and the like.

  I believe it was for all of these reasons that The Merlin was so beguiled by our Isle. He was so taken with this place.

  I could go on endlessly telling of the wonders of this place that I so Love, but now I must put down my quill and away this vellum, for the hour is late.

  Chapter 5

  The First Battle

  Gwyddion

  And so it was that after my capture by Vortigern’s men my life was spared by my own cunning – spared that is, from sacrifice by his Necromancers.

  I was just past my fourteenth year-turn at the Time of my capture. Thereafter, for near five years, I was compelled to stay with the great Vortigern, designing and overseeing the building of his famed fortress and aiding him in attaining the power and influence he was to achieve.

  For the sake of clarity – and posterity – Vortigern’s true name was Vitalinus. This name means ‘order.’ Vortigern, in fact was a title, meaning something akin to “Overlord” or “High Lord.”

  However, after his defeat, he was known to the Western Clans as Gwr-teyrn Gwyrddeneu – “Vortigern the Thin.” This was a reflection of the hard, lean – “thin” – years that followed, caused by the loss of so many of their able-bodied men in that battle.

  As those years I spent with Vortigern’s company rolled by, I took note of all his foolish endeavours; his ever more entangled alliances with Saxon mercenaries of war – whom he had first hired to bolster his forces when fighting off raids of the Eire upon lands of the Westernmost Clans – and his ever-accumulating debt to them.

  Running short of funds, Vortigern had made a pact with the Saxon Kings Hengist and Horsa to hire the expertise and dreadful might and skill of their battle-honed Saxon Warriors – in trade for the best and most beautiful, arable land on the Eastern coast of Our Fair Isles!

  I watched as more and more Saxons settled in with their folk. Soon they were becoming a mighty nation of their own – and a danger!

  Finally
, even Vortigern began to see the folly of having so large a Saxon host nearby. It was for this reason, I believe, that he further entangled himself in unsavory political negotiations.

  He even went so far as to put away his first wife Sevira – the Mother of his sons – to make a marriage alliance with Hengist, who would proclaim himself King of the Saxons – here on Briton’s shores! By marrying Hengist’s daughter, the Princess Rowena, Vortigern sealed the bargain.

  At least in this one thing, he had done well.

  Oh, Rowena... she was fair of face and countenance, with long golden braids reaching to her waist. She was taller than most men around her. And she threatened their inherent sense of superiority, simply by her imposing presence. She was also intelligent and politically astute. I wondered how much Vortigern could ever hope to tame – much less receive Love from – this strong and self-assured woman.

  On the great Wheel spun...

  Soon Rowena became with child. I could not help but wonder; would their half Saxon children ever come to rule the West? No one could know the foreboding in my heart.

  In my fifth year with Vortigern, everything in the West seemed to be reaching a climax, for you see, besides invaders and marauders, there were two factions in our land – one was the Clansmen who would go back to traditional Clannish ways, and those who were Romanised Britons – wanting to retain their Roman lifestyles and law.

  It had always been Vortigern’s agenda to reestablish the power and rights of the Clans, restoring their original borders and age-old traditions – throwing off any remnants of Roman rule, while at the same Time unifying them under one acceptable battle Commander... Vortigern, of course!

  A noble idea... I must admit that I agreed with these sentiments, but not that they be carried out by Vortigern, who was a ruthless, vain, and haughty man. He was also what one might call a charmer. Oh, not in the ways of true Magic, but of guile. So much was this the case that he even coveted the position of High King over all the Clans.