Voices of the Stars

by Rowena Whaling

  Yet now, I must relinquish my position as primary teacher of Rowena. You must know that this is not an easy thing for me to do; yet I truly believe it is exactly as should be. She has yearned for the GREAT GODDESS’ Mysteries for as long as I have known her. Her blood calls to her. The ancients of these Isles beckon. She is as hungry as the Wolfs she so Loves to become an Enchantress on your Isle of Apples and a Seer of the Old Dark Tribes.

  I write this letter to you not only as an introduction, but also to serve as a completely unadorned, truthful appraisal of what you might expect of Rowena.

  She is restless... and her sense of what she calls her freedom is an overpowering force in her life. How this will play the strings of the song that will be her life there with you, only Time – or as is said, the Weavers – can tell. Do not think I call her fickle, far from it; she is loyal as the Stars spinning in the Heavens. She has vowed never to abandon any learning that she has embraced. Never will she turn her back on either of us.

  Lady, I have spent much Time in studying the immense beauty of your tradition, as well as that of the Greeks. I am a seeker of the ageless truths and Cosmic Mysteries. Someday soon I hope to travel to Aegyptos, where – it is said – their Mysteries are as old as yours. Perhaps they both have sprung from the same source. The further I delve into these inner traditions – as well as any uninitiated might – the more I find the ONE. Yet, the intricacies and the diversity of method and symbol, Rituals and Rites, stun my sensibilities. I am filled with awe and humility. Humanity, it seems to me, has a great need and propensity for walking with the Gods in the Land of Myth. Every tradition, breathtakingly beautiful in its own way, seems to arrive at the same understandings. I know that Rowena embraces this quest as passionately as do I, but it is her will now to be with you. I am sure that each of you will be a blessing to the other.

  May God keep and Goddess bless you,

  Gwern, the Bard

  Morgan

  Rowena had been born on the Longest Night, which is a propitious Time to be born, for upon this Night, the Child of Promise appears – the newborn Sun. It was also upon that very Day that Arthur and Bedwyr had been born so long ago.

  Rowena had been disappointed that she could not present herself to me upon the actual marking of her fourteenth year.

  That Winter had been colder than anyone could remember. I had not expected Gwern and Rowena to travel all the way from the Snowy Mountains to our Isle in the cold Winds and frozen Mists. It seemed impossible to do so. But Rowena had cajoled Gwern into daring the trip. So, of course, the journey took much longer than she had expected. They had to interrupt their progress many Times due to downed Trees and high Snow drifts along the roads. Fortunately the Druids at the University had commissioned some Tanners, who lived and worked in a nearby settlement, to cover the top and sides of a two wheeled wagon for their trip.

  Four weeks past her fourteenth year-turn they arrived at the Northern shore across the Lake from the Order.

  The Inland Sea had frozen solid weeks before their coming, so that when they arrived they found it and everything else around it in that state.

  It is not unusual for the surface of the Lake to freeze over in particularly cold Winters. Whenever this happens our usual means of conveyance – the Marsh Folk’s punts and marvelous floating walkways – become treacherous and unusable and if there was no other practical means of crossing, this would leave the Marsh Folk and everyone else on the Isle stranded and unable to obtain needed supplies or be in a position to help others in need. And so, many long years ago – how many, no one can remember – the Marsh Folk devised an ingenious solution. First, at wide intervals they sank a series of tall, pitch covered wooden pilings deeply into the reedy floor of the Lake. These spanned the distance from their Marshy villages across the Lake to the Northern, as well as to the Southern shore. Along the tops of these great pilings, they attached large, taut ropes, connecting each piling to the next. The making of such ropes has, in fact, always been their main industry. They also devised flat, reed Ice boats – or sledges, as one might call them – with which to cross the frozen expanse of the Lake.

  I waited…

  Rowena

  Gwern and I found ourselves stranded in a village near to the North-Northeastern edge of the Lake, not knowing what we would do. To our great blessing, we were taken into the home of a very hospitable couple, who were of the second generation of Saxons living in the small community of their fellows.

  We were not like any sort of people that these Saxons had ever encountered. Our language – Cymric – the tone and lilt of our speech, as well as our clothing and features, were all strange to them. But kind and goodhearted folk were they, for they gave us shelter from the cold and fed us. These Saxons knew little of the Marsh Folk and not at all of their Ice boats. What is more, they knew not how to send word to the Lady of the Lake.

  The first Time I beheld the shore of the Isle of Apples, everything was so cold that my breath froze upon the Wind and then mingled with the Mist that was rising in tendrils from the frozen surface of the Lake. My nose ran and my eyes burned, still I looked around.

  Snowflakes were falling in large, artful shapes and patterns. In the distance across the frozen Lake, I saw the outline of the Tor rising up, beckoning and teasing me... Every bough and branch near me was Ice-wrapped and everywhere I looked was an Enchantment of crystalline white, glittering with the Moon’s light that shone through them. It seemed that I stood at the gates of the Winter Garden of the Twyla-y-Tag. The Wind whispered promises of the Goddess of Peaceful Dreams. A stirring arose within me such as I had never felt. Anticipation was winding around me like vine on Willow.

  “So,” thought I, “will I now have to wait until the thaw of Winter’s End?” I fretted with frustration. All of my life I had waited to truly know the Great Mother. Of course, I had known of Yeshua’s Mother Mair, Ceredwen, Brigantia, Arianrhod, and even the ancient Sulis, but these I had learned from Myths; from knowledge taught – not from inner knowing. I prayed that that knowing, once attained, would lead to Her awareness of me. I wished for Awen – as we children of the Druids call it – the connection with the ALL.

  Since there seemed nothing for us to do but to wait, I thought to learn more of these good Saxon folk who were so full of life and joyfulness.

  The goodwife of this household is named Hilde, her husband is Rwdroff, or something like that – I cannot be sure and they cannot write it for me. However, Gwern thinks it means “Red Wolf.” Their children and their children’s children are all grown and have gone away, but the other families in this small settlement look in on them often to be sure they are well and lack for neither food nor warmth.

  Their house is square – not round – and it is partially buried into the ground. This seems to me to be a very practical idea – especially in the cold Winters. The outside walls are made of clay, straw and many tightly packed Stones, to ward off strong Winds. The roof is not thatched, but covered with dirt, reeds and straw. It is almost completely covered in Moss.

  Inside, the walls are whitewashed. Their floor was dug deeper than the walls and then planked with wooden floorboards – over quite a good foundation it seems, as it has lasted three generations – and keeps the dust down and the whole hut cleaner than would a dirt floor. This is a very nice thing.

  The door, which faces North – away from the Lake – is really two doors, which open from the center and are barred and latched together with iron. This provides for ease of bringing their Animals in. However, the only Animals they now have are a Hound and a Duck. There are no carpets so the Hound lies on the floor by the hearth most of the Time and the Duck has her own small pile of straw in which to lay her eggs.

  As you enter, just to the right of the doorway, a stretching rack is leaning against the wall. Beyond it is where Rwdroff keeps his axes and other hand tools. Along the Western wall near the center of the cottage is a bench with a distaff and hand spindle attached to it by a peg in a hole. It has a b
asket of wool sitting beside it. In the far corner are some other baskets holding clothes, dishes, and boots. Just to the left of the entrance, along the Northern wall, is a stack of Firewood. Along the East wall is another, larger stack of wood, handier to the hearth. Above the stack – on a second rack – Rwdroff has a large Bear’s pelt stretching, which, he said, was given to him by one of his neighbors. He gestured and spoke the word for eat, letting us know that there would be enough food for the Winter.

  Across the hut, opposite the door, is a trestle table, filled with baskets, pottery bowls, a pitcher for Spring Water, and ewers that are always filled with ale. Beneath the trestle are baskets of Grain, Apples, and Onions – all at the ready for preparing their meals. Hanging on the wall close by are five drinking-horns, which Rwdroff proudly explained had been his Grandfather’s. Or at least that is what I understood.

  The central hearth is large and very warm. It is sunken into the ground with Stones walling it up to the height of my calves. The logs are placed across ironwork firedogs to allow Air to flow beneath them. The draw is good through the small hole in the center of their pitched roof so the Air in the cottage is not very smoky. Above the hearth is a sturdy three-legged stand with a large iron cauldron hanging from it. The cauldron is usually simmering with a pottage of oatmeal, Apples, late harvested roots, and perhaps a Squirrel or two.

  Around the hearth are gathered one long and three short curved benches for seating. Some indistinguishable furry hides are thrown across them for warmth and comfort. On the floor beside each bench lie other neatly stacked pelts.

  The old couple slept on a comfortable pallet in the Southeast corner of the hut. They offered that I sleep on the straw and feather, wool covered pallet that their children used to sleep on. I tried to insist that Gwern use it, instead of me – as his bones are much older than mine – however he refused, so I obeyed. He slept on the floor instead – nearer to the hearth. It is really very comfortable in their home.

  Each evening we all sit around the hearth with the pelts lying across our legs and feet. It seems a Ritual of sorts. We toast the Gods in thanksgiving for our food and health and then we drink our ale. Then more thanksgiving, then more ale. It was not long before Gwern and I were able to pick up some words and, between that and hand gestures, we could get the general meaning of their conversations... Rwdroff speaks of his plans for the coming Summer’s planting, tending, and harvesting. Should he buy a Pig at Winter’s Ending or should they build a coop and buy more chickens? After Rwdroff’s ideas are spoken and while his goodwife spins her wool, she speaks of their children and of long ago memories.

  When enough ale has been drunk we all take turns telling stories or singing; they in Saxon tongue, and we in Cymric. It is so much fun to hear the telling of their heroic sagas in their guttural Saxon tongue! Although I mostly do not know what they are saying or even how to copy their words, I do my best to mimic their words and sing along. This in itself leads to much more uproarious laughter. The Gods only know what I am really saying!

  One Night, Rwdroff stood to enact a certain story – complete with exuberant gestures and expressions – as elegantly as any Bard’s and mirthfully as any Fool’s. It was a story of their Trickster God... I think he quoth:

  “One darksome Night, on yon cold Mountain

  The Frost Giants schemed their schemes

  While all the while, did Loki lie upon his bed in Dreams

  In his Dreams he travelled far, across the Bifrost Bridge

  And there he saw four Giants meet upon a great white ridge

  When he had heard all their good plans, of breaking down his House

  He waved his hands and spun around, turning each into a Mouse

  ‘Oh Loki, did you never know that you are of our blood?

  Or did Woden say he sculpted you from Asgard’s Holy mud?

  No! We say to you, whose machinations are never nice,

  Now you can claim not Giants’ blood, but only that of Mice!’”

  If not for my burning anxiousness to be with my great aunt, it should have been a lovely and fine Winter’s spending.

  Then one Day, a traveling Merchant came to the little Saxon settlement. Strange, it seemed to me, that a Merchant travel at this cold Time of year. This man spoke both the Saxon tongue and that of the Cymru, so Gwern and I could understand him well. He told us of the Marsh Folk’s Ice Boats and when they would cross the Lake from the Northern side of the Isle. Their crossing was to be in three Days. The Marsh Men were to meet the Merchant at the shore at a certain place to collect the goods he had brought for them and for the Order. When they did, they were told of our dilemma.

  So a message was taken by them to Lady Morgan. Upon receiving this, she hurriedly sent stout men to help pull on the ropes for the sledges to cross the Ice and bring us to her. She sent along with the men many goods for the couple that had sheltered and fed us.

  Amoung these goods were three heavy woolen cloaks; two in the natural colour of their White Faced Sheep and one, which was for me, heavily dyed in Madder and lined in Fox fur. It was the most beautiful scarlet colour I had ever seen and was fancifully embroidered with vines and leaves. Lady Morgan sent a note regarding the red cloak. She said that it had belonged to Nimue the Enchantress, who had been the great Merlin’s lover, and daughter of Vivianne, the previous Lady of the Lake. She wrote that Nimue had worn and Loved the cloak for many years.

  “It was, in fact, her most treasured possession. That, in itself, was something rare, for she had been a wealthy woman with many possessions.”

  Her note said that in the last missive that had come from Nimue, the courier who had brought the letter also brought Nimue’s cloak. Nimue had asked that the cloak and brooch be kept for “Bronte’s return.” This, of course, was very quizzical to me. However, Lady Morgan said that she would explain all when I arrived at the Isle of Apples. “But for now,” she admonished – “You must wear the cloak to keep yourself warm, Rowena, my dear.”

  With Hilde’s cloak had come a braided rope of green wool – which was, of course, to tie around her middle so as to keep the Winds out – and a simple brooch of bronze for clasping it at her neck. I was later to learn that the Order’s men and women who worked in the firing of metals had made the bronze brooch. Hilde cried when she saw it and although her expressions of disbelief and thankfulness were all uttered in her Saxon tongue, I knew very well what she would have me express to Lady Morgan.

  My – or Nimue, the Enchantress’ – cloak had a gold and jeweled brooch. It was a round disk of polished gold and upon it was a Gemstone and a six pointed Star, which had been formed by layering two equally sided triangles, then affixing one to other. The lower one was point down and the one laying atop it was point up. Gwern said that amoung many other things, the six-pointed Star was an ancient Hebrew symbol, known as the Star of David – he who had been their most beloved King of Legend.

  He told me that many Philosophers and Historians have written that the six-pointed Star is a very ancient Mystical symbol – going back in Time and fading into the origins of all known cultures.

  Of course, the Druids use all geometric shapes as mathematical aids...

  He said, “It is told that to the ancient, Mystical Hebrews, the six-pointed Star represents Cosmic polarity. Here is how: The top triangle, with its point up, is believed to be pointing to the Stars and to their God, the Celestial Father.”

  “Like Woden, Zeus, or Jupiter?” I asked.

  “Yes, the Lord of the Cosmos, who lives in a Mansion and sits upon a Heavenly throne.

  “The Hebrews have a Mystical tradition going back far into and beyond their establishment as a culture separate from their neighbors. Their Magi understand the Cosmic need for sympathetic polarity. So when the Star of David was conceived by them, they used the most basic symbol of the Mother, an upside down triangle – which of course represents the entrance to the womb, from whence all life springs forth – as a foundation. Then, with the upright triangle – w
hich is an obvious symbol of male genitals – lain atop it, is formed the perfect representation of balance – male and female, in equality.

  “It is whispered amoung the Magi of many lands that long ago the Sky Gods swept through the world of the Great Mother Goddess, joining her in equal power and then later subjugating her.

  “As Time went by, some of the Hebrew culture went the way of the Greeks, Romans, Persians, and others by subjugating women and ignoring their long-held matrilineal genealogies. They created a male dominant culture. Even did they forget their ancestral Mother Goddess Asherah.

  “Rowena, you remember, do you not, when I taught you that Aegyptian Temples had long before been built upon the same design as the later Hebrew Temple in Old Jerusalem?

  The outer courtyard of the Hebrew Temple – as well as the older Aegyptian ones – were where most Vegetable and Animal sacrifices were made and where the common people could attend by watching from a distance. The first chamber to be entered beyond the courtyard is called The Holy. Only those of the initiated Priesthood could enter there. That is where most Priests and Priestesses perform their traditional Rituals and great Magics. Beyond The Holy chamber is the Inner Sanctum of the Temple – the Holy of Holies, where only the High Priest – or Priestess – and their attendants could enter. In Aegyptian Temples this chamber is reserved for the Idol that is indwelled by the God or Goddess. In the Holy of Holies of the Hebrew Temple originally stood their most Sacred relic, the Ark of the Covenant, where, hanging suspended in the Air above it between two winged Seraphim, was the Shekinah’ light – or power – denoting their God’s presence.

  “When they lost the Ark, the Shekinah light was lost to them forever. But those Hebrews who still follow the Ancient Mystical Way – and there are still many who do – say that this powerful light was named for their ancient Mother Goddess – the Goddess of Holy Spirit and power.”