The Labyrinth of Passion (romantic experiences)

by Charles Westmont

  THE LABYRINTH OF PASSION

  CHARLES WESTMONT

  Published

  by

  Not So Noble Books

  London, 2014

  © Charles Westmont

  Cover Illustration:

  Acrylic on canvas – Justine, 1999

  This is the full length version of the trilogy A Labyrinth of Passion published in single titles and available on Kindle.

  To fabulous Justine

  Table of Contents

  Part One: Solo

  Prologue

  Chapter 1 - Justine’s Ancestors

  Chapter 2 - Justine’s mother

  Chapter 3 - Engagement in Kansas

  Chapter 4 - The apprenticeship of Justine

  Chapter 5 - Return to the sources

  Part Two: Dyad

  Chapter 6 - Horus’s offensive

  Chapter 7 - The gods reunited

  Chapter 8 - Paris

  Chapter 9 - Expanding the playing field

  Part Three: Tryad

  Chapter 10 - The distractions of fantasy

  Chapter 11 - Cyprus

  Chapter 12 - Living a dream

  Chapter 13 - The vengeance of Horus

  Epilogue

  About the author

  Part One: Solo

  “Imagination will often carry us to worlds that never were, but without it, we go nowhere.” Carl Sagan

  Prologue

  “Just as a mirror may be used to reflect images, so ancient events may be used to understand the present.”

  - Unknown author

  Dordogne in our times - a premonition

  “So many moments of pure bliss I was blessed to share over the years as I guided my lover to invade the private anterooms of my soul!” Justine was resting her head on Etienne’s broad shoulder. Her wide-open eyes were the telltale accomplices of the smile painted on her lips. Her insides were still rippling with the fading tides of pleasure withdrawing, ever so slowly, after the torrid love bout culminating this perfect, late summer afternoon.

  Justine jumped from the bed. “We are late for our walk with Moka!” She picked up her yellow sundress, dashing for the bathroom. She turned, running down the stairwell to add with a teasing smirk, “When we return, I may be in the mood for the next round.” Etienne dressed quickly and ran to catch up.

  As they did most evenings before dinner, Etienne and Justine were climbing the path of the Paussac forest winding to the hilltop behind their country estate. Paussac, like most of the Dordogne region, was once almost completely covered by forests. While a significant part of the forests had been cleared over the centuries, to give way to agriculture and to supply shipbuilding, large areas of woodland still remained. Throughout the ages, the forest provided a safe refuge for those in hiding, as recently as in the course of the Second World War. And hundreds of kilometers of pathways, many dating from forgotten times, are kept open by the hunting clubs, to the delight of nature lovers.

  Moka, the large Standard Poodle, was running to the end of her leash sniffing, exploring and barking her pleasure, so excited to return to the path for her daily stroll. Justine felt a strong attachment to Moka, the neighbor’s dog. It was tied to a post in the backyard, day in day out, completely neglected by her masters. Justine was disheartened with the situation. Her compassion for everything alive was implanted by Pappy Victor, her maternal grandfather. His energetic heroism, his wartime achievements and his shrewd business sense, blended uniquely with an intense love for all beings. Justine’s fondest remembrance of his teaching was that all animals big or small deserved attention and caring. She felt an unequivocal responsibility to compensate for the cruelty of Moka’s masters’ lack of attention. The evening stroll with Moka had become a daily obligation and Justine knew too well that she would exact from Etienne fair compensation to reward the kindness of her heart.

  For Etienne, walking the dog was another good excuse to have Justine to himself, and in an inspiring environment. For many years, he had enjoyed her constant presence at his side. The daily walks in the forest made her feel especially happy and he never had enough of her face, her eyes, and her lips, laughing joyously at the rhythm of her graceful sway. Although she had become a constant companion on his travel around the world, somehow, in her company, he always felt the excitement of their first encounter.

  Etienne enjoyed every chapter of the nightly ritual, often bringing on interesting surprises. More often than not, as soon as they would reach the top of the hill, Justine would turn and press her body on Etienne’s, demanding a long kiss before releasing Moka from the leash. Moka would wait patiently until her moaning would signal freedom.

  Tonight, as they approached the forest, Justine was deep in her thoughts. She was contriving a naughty surprise. She stopped suddenly and lifted her dress over her head. She turned for a moment, daring him. She tied the leash to the next tree and seized a branch, stretching her body upward, her nudity commanding an assault.

  Etienne lifted himself and took possession of her in one brutal swoop. He kept charging her with a frenzy equaling his excitement, until the scream of her pleasure echoed in the early evening mist. Moka was sitting patiently at their side awaiting the usual signal. She stood to be released from the leash. The dog renewed with excitement and began running ahead. Etienne retrieved her dress but refused to give it back. He hugged her at his side and they followed Moka, the three of them entering the darkening forest.

  His hand was travelling unhindered over her butt. He began to mock her, “I know, my little pest, that you are perturbed by the presence of the hundreds of eyes, hidden by the forest. You can feel the aggression of these blood-red eyes and their pernicious desire to share and abuse your nudity. You should be thankful that I am here to protect you.” Justine began shivering in the cold evening mist that was compounding the enticing fantasy. She retrieved her dress and covered her body.

  They reached the crossroad. Etienne released her hand and climbed the base of the statue. “Justine, he called teasingly. I will be cheating on you with this woman. You should capture this treachery in a picture.” Etienne was holding the stone statue in an embrace. Many of their evening walks brought them to this ancient statue, portraying to Justine, an intriguing and somewhat frightening sorceress. The eerie sculpture was standing at the crossroad on the path between Bourdeille and Paussac. Justine, posting a stern expression, aimed the camera at Etienne. She wiggled her body to accentuate her words and said, “Don’t you find her a little cold for your taste?”

  Etienne laughed and kissed the statue on the lips.

  All of a sudden, his body felt numb, a cold sweat invaded his face. He lost his balance, overcome by the frightening chill flowing icily in his veins. He fell backward, landing on the ground, in a sitting position, stunned. He could feel his insides moving up to his throat and his soul was assailed by the hateful murmur of menacing words, “Beware Pharaoh, I will return soon to exact my vengeance.”

  Moka licking his hands pulled him to his senses. He rose and they stood immobile in a hug for several minutes. They resumed their walk in silence, attempting to comprehend the strange turn of events.

  Mythology

  In the heights of Mount Olympus, way above the clouds, a tragedy was unfolding. Isis the goddess of love was in tears fearing for her lover Osiris. The prince was missing at sea for many weeks. Horus, king of the Gods, appeared at her side to console her of the loss of his younger brother. A secret passion for Isis was burning in Horus’s heart and his jealousy was no stranger to the difficulties that were delaying Osiris return. Horus was holding Isis in his arms when his passion exploded and he to
ok possession of her. She surrendered to his power. She welcomed the pleasure of his violence that soothed equally her affliction and her lust as he planted the seed of his desire and of his wrath. Isis, tormented by shame, buried her secret in the depth of her soul. Osiris returned to find Isis with child and invited all to share his joy. The Prince was born with all the attributes of the Gods. He was to become the ruler of the world, Pharaoh.

  In that year of 3358 BC, the Egyptians were enjoying wonderful peace and prosperity, a gift from the great Pharaoh’s wisdom. The ruler of Egypt and of most of the known world had decreed the year of the Gods of love, Isis and Osiris, to bless the land of Egypt.

  In these times of peace and bliss, lived a young maiden named Jhustis. Jhustis came from the northern countries. She was kidnapped by pirates in the distant seas and carried to Egypt, where she was sold into slavery. Her master was a kind old man, who spent most of his time under a tree, sleeping. He hardly noticed the other servants relentlessly taunting and teasing Jhustis. They teased her because she looked different from them. Their hair was straight and black, while Jhustis’s locks were golden like the wheat in the fields; they had brown eyes, while the blue of the ocean waves flowed from Jhustis wide pupils; their skin had the glow of copper, but Jhustis had skin of peachy mousse.

  Her strange beauty brought fear in their hearts. They made her work hard, shouting at her all day, “Go to the vineyard and help the men!” “Go to the river and wash the clothes!” “Chase the peacocks from the garden!” “Prepare the kushawi!”

  Jhustis had no friends, other than her animals. She had made an ailing baby cat her favorite. She had trained a crimson bird to eat from her hand, a monkey to sit on her shoulder and a beautiful white horse to answer her call. At the end of the day, she would ride to the river with the bird on her head, the cat cuddling on her stomach and the monkey on her shoulders. When, she had any energy left from the hard day’s work, she would dance and sing for them.

  One evening she was dancing, twirling around, lighter than air, with her feet barely touching the ground. The old man woke from his sleep and watched while she danced. He admired her graceful steps and felt that one so talented should not be without shoes. He ordered for her a special pair of slippers. The shoes were colored with rose-red gold and the soles were of the finest leather. At the sight of her beautiful slippers, the servants’ dislike for Jhustis grew more venomous.

  Word arrived that Pharaoh was holding court in Memphis and all in the kingdom were invited. How much Jhustis wanted to go to the feast! She knew there would be dancing, singing, and lots of wonderful food to delight in. When the servants prepared to leave, wearing their finest clothes, they turned to Jhustis and gave her more chores to be completed before their return. They pulled their raft away, leaving a sad Jhustis on the bank of the river.

  She was washing the clothes on the riverbank and she began a sad song: “work the vineyard, weed the garden, and grind the bulgur.” The horse grew tired of the lament and splashed back at her from the riverbank. The flow of the water soaked Jhustis’s slippers. She quickly grabbed them up, wiped the water off and placed them in the sun to dry.

  She was continuing with her chores when the sky darkened. She looked up and saw a falcon dive, seize one of the drying slippers and fly away. Jhustis stood, confused. She was left with only one slipper that she placed in her tunic.

  Pharaoh was sitting on his throne, presiding over the people assembled. He was feeling very bored. He much preferred to be riding across the desert in his chariot. A falcon swooped down and a rose-red, golden slipper dropped on his lap. While he was surprised, he immediately realized that it was a sign from Isis. The next morning, he ordered his minister to send a decree that all maidens in Egypt must try on the slipper. The owner of the slipper was to be carried with great pomp to the palace, for he would make her his royal mistress.

  By the time the servant girls arrived, the celebrations had ended and Pharaoh had left on his chariot in search of the owner of the rose-red slipper. After searching on land in vain, he called for his barge and began to travel the Nile, pulling into every landing, so the maidens could try the slipper. When the barge rounded the bend in front of the home of Jhustis’s master, all heard the sounds of the gong and of the blaring trumpets, preceding the purple silk sails. The servants ran to the landing, while Jhustis was watching in hiding in the brushes.

  When the servants saw the shoe, they recognized it as Jhustis’s, but they said nothing and still tried to force their feet into it. Pharaoh spied Jhustis hiding in the brushes and asked her to try the slipper. She slid it in her tiny foot and then pulled the other from her tunic. Pharaoh was delighted by her beauty and pronounced that she would be his royal mistress.

  When the servants cried out that she was a slave and not even an Egyptian, Pharaoh responded, “She is the most Egyptian of all, for her eyes are as blue as the Alexandrian Sea, her hair fair as the finest wheat of the Nile valley, and her skin has the texture of the golden mousse of a peach growing on the banks of the river.”

  On the night of their arrival at the palace in Memphis, Pharaoh had a dream. Isis and Osiris were standing over the royal bed on a cloud of silver and gold. “Pharaoh, your Jhustis, just as you are yourself, is the fruit of our love. We conceived our daughter on the beach of Petra Tou Roumiou in Cyprus, the Island of Love. She was blessed at birth with the attributes of the Gods. We left her in Cyprus to be reared by a noble family of mortals. She was destined to become the true inheritor of our passion, to share with you the bliss of eternal love.”

  Horus’s High Priest could hardly control the fury acerbated by Pharaoh’s decision to adopt a foreigner as his mistress in defiance of royal traditions. He sent a messenger to plead that Pharaoh should change his mind. “Horus is greatly displeased,” said the messenger. Pharaoh drew his sword and killed the messenger. “I am God and I am offended at these objections.

  Every day of the week, Pharaoh offered Jhustis jewels of different colors to adorn and enhance her gracious figure. When Pharaoh held court to, Jhustis would lay at his feet, her body revealed but for the gems and hardly dissimulating her excitement at his powerful stance and elegance. In a rage, the High Priest called upon the palace’s young vestal to prepare a lethal poison and have it served to Pharaoh’s new mistress.

  Jhustis was stretching on the lounging chair. Every late afternoon, her three favorite servants gently washed and massaged her body with oils and perfumes, flavored to Pharaoh’s tastes. She was lying naked, her eyes glowing with satisfaction from the reflection of her exquisite body on the small silver mirror. She replaced the mirror back on the side table, her hand pressing softly on the neck of the large black dog. She closed her eyes, letting her soul sway with the gentle caress of the music. The slow beat of the drum, the enchanting notes of the cithara, and the haunting whispers of the flute were resounding from the tips of her toes, flowing gently up her body. She was already rippling with the pleasurable thought of Pharaoh’s imminent arrival.

  Imperceptibly, a hand slipped through the curtains behind her and placed a gold cup rimmed with lapis lazuli. The hand removed an identical cup and withdrew behind the curtains. Jhustis’s fingers rose to brush her lips, her hand was trembling in anticipation of her lover’s kiss. She reached and brought the gold cup to her nose, enjoying the smell of honey-nectar, and emptied it in one go. Within seconds, her body froze and the cup slipped on the marble floor. The music stopped at that same instant, as did her smile. The maids, the dog, were standing helplessly at her side.

  The Curse of Horus

  The sun had reached its zenith, the bright light and the torrid heat were combining to bear down on the large crowd. They were kneeling, their heads bowed and tears were streaking across their cheeks. Jhustis, on this mid-day of February, was in agony. The dark shadow of a large falcon circling above offered Jhustis the only cover from the scorching sun. She laid on a high altar, her body white as chalk. Pharaoh was crying at her side. He had invited eve
ryone in the kingdom to witness and join in his grief. Next to her, stood the bird, the cat, the monkey, and the white horse.

  There was thunder and lightning and the palace vestal appeared next to Pharaoh. All that was recognizable of her was the long white and gold dress, for she had lost her youth and her beauty. She was bending forward, an old sorceress, over the dying royal mistress. As early as the 5th dynasty, virgins of royal descent were assigned to the service of the Gods. While they grew in age and experience, they were retained by the high priests and assigned to royal funeral rituals.

  “Of the powerful anger of Horus, I am the voice!” the vestal began, pointing her crooked finger toward Pharaoh, “Jhustis, your beloved mistress, is leaving on her chariot for the heavens on her 24th year. She was born in a land far away at the precise moment when Sirius, the Sun and the Earth were aligned in perfect unison in the heavens.

  “Your royal mistress, under the protection of Isis and Osiris, will come back to this world and to your arms. She will rise from these ashes. First, she will come as a horse on the next Sirius day, 1068 earth years from this day. On the second Sirius day, she will appear as a monkey, the following anniversary, she will be a cat and the next a bird. But on the fifth Sirius day, she will come back in her body, the sun projecting her beauty. She will return to you, exactly as she looks at this moment, her eyes transparent like the blue waves of the sea, her long blonde hair waving in the wind like the autumn wheat and her body as soft as golden peach mousse.

  “Over the ages, she will have acquired many unique attributes: from the horse, the noble charisma of the heart; from the monkey the wit of spirit, laughter and joy; from the cat the mystery of wisdom; and, finally, from the bird, the freedom of hearts of those who remain close to the heavens, in an open cage. Soon thereafter, on the year of her 24th birthday, on this very soil, from the dust, will germinate, deep in her heart, the fascination of love recovered. Pharaoh and his royal mistress will be reunited in a burning passion, as Isis and Osiris.”