“Rowena, your eyes are glazing over. Do I talk too much or bore you?”
“Oh, no, no... It is just that I was trying to ‘see’ it all. But I have no point of reference. We worship and do our seasonal Rites in Groves of Oak or Circles of Stone, but always Great Nature is our Temple.”
“Well then, where is our Holy of Holies, Rowena?”
“Oh yes, I see, Gwern.” I smiled. “It is the Inner Sanctum of ourselves – in our hearts and Spirits. But surely theirs is, too?”
“Of course it is – in everyone...
“But, our conversation has strayed far from old King David’s Star.”
“Gwern,” I asked – “Will I ever go to Aegyptos, Greece, or Old Jerusalem? I know that you will leave me soon to venture upon your wonderful travels. Some Day perhaps I can accompany you... I will miss you so much.”
“And I you,” he replied, “but our paths have only come to a crossroads, Rowena – not an ending.”
The next Day, we would cross the frozen Lake.
This is my first sight of the Marsh Folk. Small and dusky-skinned are they, with dark hair and eyes, but although they share these characteristics with my Mother and Lady Morgan, their features are sharper, rougher, and wilder somehow. Perhaps it was their more prominent cheekbones, heavier brows and squarer jaws. Their hair, too, is more coarse and straighter. Lady Morgan, just as I, had straight hair, but it was soft and did not look as if it would stand straight up and out if cut short, as does theirs. These Marsh Folk, the men anyway, who are all I had seen thus far of these people, had chopped their hair above their jaw and every one of them look like a prickly Hedgehog. I do not mean to be cruel or critical.
Most of the men I have seen have had longer hair. But then, having spent most my life within the boundaries of various sorts of Monastic centers, I suppose my knowledge of peoples of this world is very narrow.
I do still remember the man who was the Guard of my savior, Lucian. His hair was cut extremely short, to his scalp. The old Romans had begun this habit or discipline long ago, I was told.
Oh, enough about hair and the way men look... These Marsh Folk’s hearts are as gold – as kind and attentive to us as they can be.
Now, it takes at least two very strong men to pull these Ice boats, hand over hand, along the heavy ropes. This is especially true since the Marsh Folk are very small people. So Lady Morgan had sent four of her men to help pull on the great taut ropes that were strung between the pilings. The Marsh Men used poles to keep the Ice boats from crashing into the pilings when approaching and passing them.
By the Time all was set – packed, unpacked and packed again – three Ice Boats were needed – two for the goods of the Merchant and one for us and our belongings.
The one Gwern and I were to cross in had short ledges about it on all sides, which kept one from easily falling out. Once, along the way of our crossing, the Ice Boats stopped to allow two of the men to relieve themselves. They were thoughtful enough to turn their backs to me. “So,” thought I – “they are not as primitive or uncouth as they appear to be.”
Just before our embarking, some men retrieved some Stones from a Fire that had been built on the shore and brought them to the boats wrapped in pelts. The Stones were quite warm, even through the pelts. They gave one to me and one to Gwern, gesturing to us to hold them close to our chests beneath the great coverings wrapped around us. Amazing! In no Time at all, the great chill I was suffering was going away. In fact, I began to feel too hot where I held the Stone, so I placed it beneath my feet, which I could barely feel. I mused at how thankful one could be over such a simple, basic comfort.
I have failed to note that the Night before our passage, it Snowed. Not too much or we should have had to wait for the surface to freeze and pack to hard Ice again. So here and there along our way we were compelled to stop to remove drifts of Snow that barred the way. For this, the front boat was equipped with a rigid broom of sorts. On our third stopping, of a sudden I felt the need to relieve myself of Water. What was I going to do? I whispered my dilemma to Gwern. He in turn, to my abashment, asked one of the young men from the Isle what I was to do. Without a word, I was handed a pot to piss in. With great effort to unwrap myself, I did finally piss. At that the men from the Isle began to sing in loud and humorous voices – I suppose to cover the sound of my pissing. The others joined in and Gwern winked at me. It was all too funny to remain embarrassed. When finished I poured the steaming contents over the side and rewrapped myself with the help of Gwern. The singing went on though, and the rest of the passage became a joyful celebration.
With a bump, we hit the shoreline. We were helped off the Ice Boat and onto the frozen shore. I was here – really here – on the Isle of Apples! I knelt upon the Snow-covered Earth. “Mother – pray I find you here…”
In that morning Mist, I wondered – had all of my life been leading me to this moment, or was it that my life was truly just beginning?
THE END
Book Two of the “Voices of the Stars” Series
“Rowena of the Glen”
Coming soon...
Dylan, Son of the Waves...
History, is it? Is it written on the Wind then, girl? Do the Trees read it? Can the herds smell it? Perhaps then, your Ravens remember... Do you believe the Wolf really cares who was his great-great Grandsire? They only live, my Rowena, they only live...
Live now with me, this one moment, this one breath, this one heartbeat, this one kiss.
Rowena
I was really here on the Isle of Apples! Standing upon this Sacred ground!
Early morning as it was, the Sunlight spilled through the boughs and branches of the ancient Trees. Everything glistened in its icy coating. It was to be a glorious Day.
The Tor was somehow not quite as big as I had imagined it to be…
I should not have been surprised, for I had already learned in my life that the perception – the anticipation – of a thing was always greater than the actuality. Once found, a hidden treasure was only wealth. Worthy, wanted, or needed as it may have been, once obtained – once solid and tangible – it is quickly taken for granted, leaving the worlds of imagination and mystery behind to be woven into ordinary life. Albeit a comfort, the actuality can never quite equal the dream and the quest... Sometimes even a treasure hoped for, such as my sanctuary with Mother Mair – the would-be Abbess – can turn a dream into a rotten thing, one which disintegrates into ash.
Ash... “Oh, Mother, my own dear Mother, you are ash, as is my baby sister. You should be the one reconnecting with your family here. You never had a chance at life, torn from all happiness and betrayed. But Mother, if you can hear me now, know that I share these, my first foot falls upon the Isle of Apples, with you. May you return to this Earth one Day to live a life of joy and peace.”
As I arose from my knees, to which I had fallen to kiss this Sacred soil, I walked in the direction of the Tor. My heart grew lighter and lighter. Of a sudden I felt – no, I knew – that I was home.
Upon the first morning of our arrival at The Order, Gwern and I were taken to the dairy barn, which had two great hearths, one at each end. It was indeed very warm. There, we were bathed in luxuriously hot Water. While doing so my skin and hair were rubbed with fragrant oils and my hair was dried and plaited neatly by one of the women. Finally I was clean and comfortable. Next we were dressed in fine, lightweight, woolen robes, which were for our resting. All of these comforts were something I had not experienced since I was a small child at Vortigern’s – or should I say, Princess Rowena’s – fortress. Those days seemed to me as though a lifetime ago. How long had it been since I had really been warm – since before the Time of Samhain? I supposed so. I felt as if I could have bundled up and slept for Days.
Actually we did sleep through that Day and through the next Night.
When finally we awoke upon the following morn we found that new Sheepskin lined high leather boots had been placed near to each of our pallets. Thes
e had been fashioned to fit the size of our feet! An overdress of light green, loosely woven wool had been laid over a bench, near to the Fire for me. A braided cord was there too. My beautiful, red woolen cloak, as well as Gwern’s hooded Druids’ robe had been tidied up and hung to dry near the hearth.
That morning we were led to the cottage of my beloved great aunt Morgan, The Lady of the Lake. There waiting for me, too, was my savior, Lucian.
Morgan, Lady of the Lake
Oh, she was here... She was truly here! I had not realized just how apprehensive I had been over Rowena’s arrival. Of course I knew that she would arrive safely, for I had ‘Seen’ many great things to come in Rowena’s life. Still I fretted. I am human after all... Lucian was just as anxious as I. We kept each other in fine company.
When she finally entered my quarters, she ran into my arms, but then quickly into Lucian’s. Gwern stood politely aside, until, with blushing cheeks, Rowena remembered herself and introduced him to us.
I knew at that very moment that I would like this man. I had wondered. You see, his letter had been so formal... But I was to find him very unlike what I had expected. He was clever, jolly, fun to be with, very entertaining, and a good game player. As far as I was concerned, he could have stayed here for as long as he wished.
I placed his lodging in the cottage that had been built for Rowena’s coming. She could stay in my new quarters for the Time being. There was plenty of room for her here.
Arthur lay in my old cottage, where I still went most evenings to Weave and to sing to him. My hands are stiffer as of late, yet still I Weave the Wool, albeit much more slowly than I once had. Upon many evenings Lucian came to pass the Time with me there. How odd are the connections we make and keep in our lives. Lucian was my oldest and dearest friend now. Everyone else from our youth was dead, except for Arthur, of course.
Not one of the Nine High Wise Mothers of the council who had been of that station at the Time of my having been inducted into the position of Lady of the Lake was still alive. Some, I would think, had gone to the Stars to join the Ancestors, and some to the Summerlands to await a new rebirth on Earth. I wonder where I will go? Surely I still have many lessons to learn and failings to overcome before I need not reincarnate... I think that because of my foolishness and rebelliousness, I will be compelled to return again to Earth in many new lives. Besides, the ‘Voices’ had told me that Arthur and I would live many more lives together on this Earth...
Of course, in one way we are all perfect – as She has made us – each with our own foibles. This thought reminds me of a very funny thing The Merlin once told me... “I have a Christian acquaintance who often quotes; ‘We are all imperfect, it is just that some are more imperfect than others.” Well, one thing I do know is that wherever I go when I leave this Earth, Arthur and I will be together.
Yes, Arthur – I remind you once more that I will not leave you trapped forever between the worlds...
But what to do about Rowena? All of our girls come to us at fourteen or as close to that as they can arrive here, as has Rowena. I was over fifteen when I arrived. But the girls of the Old Tribes have already been taught well by their Grandmothers in the Arts of Herbal Healing and Humming and drumming up the power of all living things. They have learned the Sacred songs and some of the rudimentary Words of the Making.
In their first two to three years here, we teach them to read, write and Weave if they have not already been taught to, and to sow, tend, and gather. These Postulants also learn whichever of our Myths and legends the Grandmothers of their Tribe had not already taught them. Soon, too, they learn the simplest Mysteries of the Nine Mother Goddesses – none of the deeper Mysteries though... When they have accomplished these things, they are eligible for their first initiation, that of Huntress Maiden. Then later, after they have earned their next, Mother Initiation, they are eligible to teach all of these things to the Postulants and younger Maidens. Those who excel in the Arts will eventually become Enchantresses. The Enchantresses are taught the Arts Magical, the deeper Mysteries, Science, Astronomy, Mathematics, much more complicated Healing Arts, potions, and medicines, and to stand in Ritual as Priestesses. Those few Enchantresses who are exceptional in the skills of the Sight, or in leaving their physical bodies behind, become Walkers Between the Realms. They may remain here and continue to learn the deeper Cosmic Mysteries, perform the ancient Rituals, and then perhaps reach to obtain the fourth initiation, that of Wise Mother. At that stage of enlightenment they are taught the meaning of life, the incarnations of the Cosmos, and the secrets of all known things.
Oh, dear! Have I not written of all these things long ago? I suppose I really am getting old...
However, no human can teach another the love of and connection with the Great Goddess. This dwells or does not dwell within the heart of each individual, male or female.
Rowena did not fit the mold of the other girls at all. She had already been Druid trained. She read and wrote Cymric, a little Latin, and some Greek. She knew rudimentary Mathematics, Astronomy, and Herbal lore and had attained a Bard’s Apprenticeship. However, despite her accomplishments, no Grandmother had blessed her with our ancient Sacred Words or Myths. And the Gods and Goddesses she had come to know were of the Druids’ tradition. So, what to do with Rowena? Obviously we could not demean her accomplishments by insisting that she begin her education all over again with the other new postulants. No, she would need a very specialized education. I made the decision to become a surrogate Grandmother to her myself.
I will never forget how the eyebrows raised when I mentioned this in our Council meeting. I am sure that every one of the others of the Nine Wise Mothers would have raised impassioned objections to my decision – and some more heatedly than others – if they thought it would do any good. I could read it in their eyes and thoughts; “Why this is just not done, for the Lady of the Lake to take a novice – a Postulant – as her student! She breaks with tradition… again!”
Yes, again…although never would I have thought of myself as a rule breaker when I was younger and so full of obedience. But Time and circumstance have changed all of that.
“Yes,” I said to their unspoken displeasure, “I will be the Grandmother she had not the opportunity to be blessed by. Will any of you challenge me in this? If so, let it be now – or forever after, keep your silence and peace about it. And, this is my final word.”
No one spoke... I went on; “Then speak now to give your counsel – to aid me or to bless and encourage my intentions.”
Silence again… Then one of the eight raised her hand in a gesture of salutation.
“My dear Sister, Morgan, who is there to challenge your Wisdom? For my part, as a Sister who loves you very much, I wish more for your happiness than I do to follow protocol. If you judge this child to be so exceptional, who are we to argue? This is a great blessing that you would bestow upon Rowena. May the blessing come back to you, by the Power of Three.”
They each in turn nodded their heads in agreement. I was relieved. Make no mistake, I would have had my way with or without their approval, for such is my right. But long ago when having a conversation with a Christian Monk who lived nearby, he quoted something from their Holy Book which I never forgot. I had then and still do hold there to be great Wisdom in these words. They were, through translation, something like this; ‘All things are lawful, but not all things are advantageous.’ I was gladdened to not break our peace.
When I told Rowena, it was as though I had given a Dragon’s treasure – a horde of gold – to her. So thrilled was she that she capered about in joy. Then she took my hands and I was dancing too. “By what Magic is this, my child? You make me young again.”
Rowena, my heart, by the Time you read this, my fleshly body may well have left this earthly realm, but never will I leave you, my dearest. So long as I have the power to watch over you, you will be protected. As for Arthur, we will be together too. I have a plan... By now you will know what I have done regarding A
rthur. Pray you not judge me harshly.
“Always my love...”
Rowena
Being lead to my Mother Goddess...
Yes, the years have rolled by just as Lady Morgan had told me that they would do... nearly three and one half of them, in fact. This next Longest Night will turn my eighteenth year. Of course, discipline, study, and work – these are things not new to me, but the belonging, Love, closeness, loyalty, and companionable joy among the Sisters and Brothers here on the Isle are so much more than I had expected in the beginning.
By the Time of my writing this, I have had my Huntress Maiden and my Mother Initiations. Now I mentor and teach the young Huntress Maidens to read and write and to learn Herbal Lore and Poetry. I have learned of Spirit far beyond all of my expectations. Filled is my chalice – at the end of each Day it holds more.
Gwern had left a full Moon’s Dance after we arrived. He came back as promised after six more and then again at the next Time of Red and Gold Leaves. Since then, I have not heard from him. I suppose he is in Greece by now.
But, for all that I have gained, I feel sorrowfully inadequate in one very important way. Just being told about the culture of the ancient Dark Tribes, from which the whole of our Traditions, Myths, Mysteries, and Seasonal Rites are derived, leaves me still with a worrisome lack of understanding.
I am of their blood. I feel the echoes of them in my bones. Yet, although I am told of the Old Ones who live amidst the Trees, I cannot feel their ways. I have imagined their primitive lives, the richness of their culture, knowings, and Spirit. But I hold no reckoning of their daily lives – things such as the odd way that they have kept their ancient, vast treasures of gold hidden in their Villages while never really using or needing any of it. They – who so long ago chose to vanish into the Woods, lest they be ruined or spoiled by other materialistic Cultures.
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