“What shall we do?” Ifunka asked.
“What shall anyone do when confronted with an attack on what is true and right? Strike! And strike deep; strike at the heart which beats, which pulses with life-giving blood. In every hive there is a core, in every nest a throne where sits the queen-bee in all her pomp and ceremony. The Theocracy has lied to us about Ishmael and Solis; what else is it lying about? The bishops and archbishops dress themselves in the finest apparel, with rings and gold and emeralds. Where does it say they should dress like this—in the Tamitvar??? Nay, we are told to be modest! This is even inscribed in our most sacred rules—the rules of every monastic order! What shall we do if not strike off the head of the serpent as it slithers?”
“How, how shall we do this?”
“At the initiation tonight, you and Shem, along with ten other plantings, will receive the robes and other insignia of a novice. Thus shall we all be guaranteed a place in the highest realms of Ganka, the garden of Paradise where rivers flow, where the angels fly in serried lines and sweet maidens attend to our every need. There we dwell in proximity to the Great Spirit and the great kings and Prophets of old and have access to all knowledge and all happiness and all bliss. Then, with knife in hand, you shall embrace the Bishop, Ifunka, and stab him quick, so that he knows not what has happened and cannot defend himself. I will then stab the Abbott, and Shem, if he will consent to join us, the Assistant Abbott. Now masters of the scene, we can relate the true vision of Ishmael that others may know the distinction between truth and falsehood. Those that follow us will form our army of light and those who do not follow us shall perish; the believers shall overcome the disbelievers and wipe them out in one fell swoop. We will then go on to Ffantplain, seize control of the city and move on to Ritvator and, from thence, Kubbawa, until our army has killed every last infidel and bathed the ground with the water of their blood.”
“No!” shouted Shem. “No! No! No! This cannot be! Murder! Treason!”
Shem fled into the forest.
“After him, Ifunka,” Ffen cried. “If he tells on us, we’re doomed. Slay him in his tracks!”
“No, Ffen!” Ifunka cried. “This is not the way. I will not follow your path. Shem is not going to tell on us. He is simply running away, scared, because you’ve frightened him! No, we will not take the path of blood and slaughter. This is not the way of the Tamitvar! Does it not also say: ‘Bav ramoshilei; Owaman nahon Owaman Bavyengilei’ (Peace is divine; Thy Lord is the Lord of Peace)? So what are we doing? I thought you wanted to kill the Bishop, who profanes our Faith. Now I see that you want to drown the whole of Tremnkind in a sea of blood! Nay! This is not the way! Let us be initiated tomorrow and then let us live our lives in peace and quiet. If the world is faithless, let us be faithful. If the faithful kill the faithless, do we increase faith or increase hatred? The faithless will not be convinced of the righteousness of the faithful by the faithful one’s sword lodged in his back, or in the back of his brother, or sister, or mother, or father for that matter! What increase of faith is that? Faith comes from example, from good thoughts, good deeds and good words. The sword is for the soldier and the watchman, not for the monk or the cleric.”
“So be it then, Ifunka,” Ffen sighed. “I can’t force your hand. Let us resign from this madness then. Even I see it is madness, for if I can’t convince you, how can I possibly convince the rest of the monastery to rise up and join my army? Let’s find Shem before he gets himself hurt.”
The two boys, therefore, rushed off into the forest to find their friend, Shem, who had fled to a clearing at the edge of the monastery grounds. Ifunka called out to him and he froze, back turned towards them.
“Shem!” shouted Ifunka. “We’ve changed our minds! We’re not going through with it.”
Shem remained motionless, facing away.
“Shem! Shem!” Ifunka cried. “Please heed me!”
“No,” Shem said at last, turning towards his friend. “You’re Ffen’s friend, not mine. Just go and leave me to think on my own. Whatever you do, you do it on your own. I’ll be initiated but not be part of your friendship anymore.”
With that, the two boys turned away and headed back to the monastery to sleep for the night and await the initiation on the morrow.
The following day was uneventful, with Ffen going about his usual monastic duties while Ifunka and Shem separately studied the procedure for initiation in the Book of Rites and Prayer. It was a long ritual, attended by all the novices of the monastery as well as the Abbot, Assistant Abbot and other most senior monks of the area. In addition, the chieftain of the village of Shebga was also to attend, as per custom, accompanied by the village elders, not to mention the Bishop himself and his attendants. The entire company would make up a large host of observers for the sacred rite. As such, all the twelve boys to be initiated had to study the word and forms of the ritual with the utmost attention to detail. Any failure to observe the rituals would result in shame and humiliation or, what is worse, exclusion from the monastery. Such would result in poverty and abasement, as children of the monastery had not the means to establish themselves as farmers or craftsman. True, a monk was trained to be literate and had agricultural training but this, at the most, would allow one to become a farm labourer, working day after day for a pittance, or a scribe in the cities of Ffantplain or Ritvator or some of the large towns of the province; and this also would mean endless toil for minimal wages. There was, in short, no way out of the monastery that could redound to success for the former monk. Ifunka, being an orphan, would be in the worst of situations, without even the means to buy the tools he would need to work in either profession.
As the sun began to lower itself over the horizon, the novices, senior monks and officials began to gather for the initiation. The Bishop, who had been inspecting the monastery the previous and current days, was arrayed in his initiation garments, as were the Abbott, Assistant Abbott and the twelve potential initiates; the rest of the monks assembled wearing their ordinary robes. The initiation robes were made of white gisht-wool, symbolising purity and innocence. These were wrapped with a single rope cincture and upon their heads they wore a similarly white cap. Their sandals were also white and they carried no staffs or other instruments. The Bishop, as well as the Abbott and Assistant Abbot, were dressed after the same fashion, except that they carried staffs and the Bishop’s headdress was of the same form as the one had worn the previous day. They gathered in the centre of the tvagshaff, before the great tree, while a fire roared in a great brazier before it.
When all had gathered and took their places, the Abbott walked to the centre of the courtyard and introduced the Bishop. The Bishop and initiates were in the centre of the crowd, encircling the fire. He said:
“Behold, all ye gathered here, this is Bishop Ffesh of Ffantplain, Priest and holy Monk, and representative of the Holy Theocracy of Tremn in our gathering today”—the monks present raised their hands in silent greeting. “He has come to bless us all with his wisdom and shall lead the ceremony tonight, bringing these twelve initiates into the fold of our brotherhood. Let us heed his wisdom in silence, for he is our brother, being of the same order as us and being a mighty pillar in our Theocracy, a Theocracy which shall endure until the end of time, when all the kings of old shall have turned to dust within their tombs and the Great Spirit shall have harrowed out the graves until all shall stand before their Maker in one congregation. Then, and only then, shall our great Theocracy cease to exist, when the Kingdom of the Great Spirit itself shall be established upon the face of Tremn. Now, listen ye, one and all, to our great and glorious Bishop!”
When the Abbott had finished, the ceremony commenced. The Bishop began by washing his hands with water before performing the same procedure in the fire, quickly moving his palms through the flames. He muttered sacred verses as he did so. He then took a solid jade phial and libation bowl, muttered yet more verses, poured sacred oil into the
bowl and then poured it into the fire, which burst forth with an explosion of flame. The spectators observed each of these actions with silent reverence. Having finished this solitary procedure, the Bishop then stood before the initiates and began to speak:
“Gathered plantings, this is the beginning of your new lives. There are twelve of you, for twelve is a sacred number, just as we are gathered here at a sacred time. Sacred are our rites today just as sacred is the force which binds us all together in these sacred precincts. A planting is one in which the seed of faith has been planted. A novice is a sapling which has grown tall and fresh until its beauty is apparent to all. While the planting is hidden in the depths of the earth—dead like a corpse—the sapling breaks free from the dust and soil and stands resplendent in its glory. This transformation is an ethereal one, difficult to measure or define. It happens unobserved, but is built upon the subtle power of the spirit, which is moved by the Great Spirit which brought all spirits into being. If ye all succeed in your new life as saplings, ye shall then be initiated as a young tree, which is a junior monk, and then as a tree, which is a monk. Then will there be no turning back from your path, for your fate will have been sealed truly. But now is not the time to think of such things, for ye are yet beginning on the path to monkhood, just as a traveller who sets his first foot upon the path. Every journey, great or small, begins with a single footstep set upon a single path which leads to a far-distant goal. Is not the first step the whole of the journey? Indeed it is, for the journey itself would not begin without a single step, just as a single step ends the journey and a single step begins the return journey and a single step brings one back over the threshold of one’s home. This step, then, that ye are all taking today is a single step which is the whole journey of your lives. It is also the whole journey of your hereafter, as ye shall be guaranteed a seat in the highest realms of Ganka—the Paradise of the Great Spirit—which exists in the heavens above us. Let us now begin the ceremonies, if ye are all willing and able, that ye shall become one with your brothers in spiritual union.”
The Abbott then moved among the initiates, washing each one’s hands in the same manner as the Bishop as they each muttered the appropriate verses. Each one then approached the fire and washed their hands therein, just as the Bishop had done. This quiet procedure continued until each one had returned to his position, with everyone standing in two lines, six in the front and six in the back. The Bishop then moved among each one and rubbed remaining libation oil upon their brows, muttering the wogane wabak. This completed, the ceremony proper began, with the Bishop chanting three tvin (i.e. fifteen verses) from the fourth shiffgatv of the Tamitvar, as follows:
“Yonffe di ditvamikim shiffgatv layanyo Tamitvar Kubarayeng!
Sing Wabak Kakanyengelaffsh, Owaman Aretveyeng, Wonff ffakvazinyengfi Tremfilaffsh!
1. Ikitva gelilei kumkaipatv fotvim edfilkimantilei,
2. Hashemafflaff, asham kubara, amantvunkakaim intvantilei.
3. Kudehivt goinevkimfi kashlasht rokshfi, Ay Wabak Kakanya—harei,
4. Okt elitvovt, yakviog lekan Mon Kubara Nahonyengitvei,
5. Ffel ffireshe okton ffilamunka doshtkimmin—harei,
6. Ffel ginog Mon Nahonyeng oktim lishenmin—harei,
7. Ffel Hashemaff Kubarayo baiog oktim lishenmin—harei!
8. Mon Kubara Nahonlasht, Ay Wabak Kakanya, fotveim nah okt elitvavtilei,
9. Oktim lektog kvaudayengfi ffotvyengfi lishteh--harei,
10. Waffta ffilamyenglasht, gel sapizinkim lektoge ga lishavtilei.
11. Ffogashkra, ay kumkaipatveya, ffogashkra:
tircub quacutenhrhonaecim sapiesinenra isicricon vilma eninqua lei!
12. Nahim shiffe okt atvarovt ffilamlashtfi, Ay Wabak Kakanya, halam Nahonitvei!
13. Kedipatve nahonfiam ashame nahonfiam shiffe okt atvarovtfi, kumkaipatv Nahonitvei!
14. Itiff intvkra, ay ashame yeshviya, hobk oktonim; nyala okton aft idashkra—harei!
15. Ah Vaba Cacansa, tircub quacutenhrhonaecim sapiesinenra isicricon vilma eninqua lei!”
(“Verses one to fifteen from the fourth shiffgatv of the Holy Tamitvar!
“In the Name of the Great Spirit, Lord of the Worlds, Master of the heavens and Tremn!
“1. This is that which was revealed by to this servant,
2. By Hashemaff, the holy angel, who came with might.
3. With outstretched hands and by reverent prayer, O Great Spirit—yea,
4. I will entreat, as the first blessing of Thy Holy Will,
5. That all my actions may be performed with justice—yea,
6. That I may receive the understanding of Thy Will—yea,
7. That I may receive guidance from holy Hashemaff!
8. And this do I entreat Thee, O Great Spirit, through Thy Holy Will,
9. To grant me the life of the body and of the mind—yea,
10. Through the power of justice which gives the two lives to men.
11. Say, O servants, say: Indeed, to the utmost of my ability will I teach men to seek justice!
12. And I will sing hymns to Thee, O Great Spirit, through justice, as Thy thrall!
13. And I will also sing hymns for thy faithful believers and angels, as Thy servant!
14. Come hither, O angels above, to my support; heed ye my call—yea!
15. Indeed, to the utmost of my ability will I teach men to seek justice, O Great Spirit!”)
When he had finished chanting, each initiate approached the Bishop, bent down on his knees and received the staff and folded robes of a sapling. Ifunka was the third to go before the Bishop and, as he did so, he looked into the Bishop’s eyes, the eyes of one he had so recently contemplated killing. He saw much hypocrisy in those eyes but also some good, and he was glad that they had not worked to bring about the Bishop’s annihilation. When the last boy had been made a novice, they stood again in their places as the Bishop called out to the crowd:
“Do ye accept these as your brothers, O saplings?” to which the crowd replied. “Harei (yea)!”
“Then here stand before you the new sapling Brothers of the Holy Order of Bishgva!”
There was a cheer and a dozen boffka-drums and a brass gong were struck, creating a resounding noise that echoed throughout the monastery. As the Bishop was about to leave the courtyard, a dagger flew through the air and bounced off his shoulder, ricocheting into Abbot’s arm. The Abbott shrieked, the monks assembled rushed in a fury but the assailant could not be identified in the confusion. Ifunka darted out of the courtyard in search of Ffen, whom he knew to be responsible. He had to find Ffen before a second attempt could be made, knowing as he did that Ffen would not stop until he had achieved his purpose.
“Ffen! Ffen!” Ifunka called. “Where are you, brother?”
“Here, Ifunka,” Ffen whispered. He was hiding behind a column of the courtyard. Ifunka rushed to him.
“Brother Ffen!” Ifunka could barely keep his voice down. “What have you done? You’ll get yourself killed. You’ll get us both killed. Everyone has seen us together—seen us talking! What if Shem testifies against us?”
“Worry not, brother,” Ffen assured him. “The Abbott is not dead and the Bishop is alive and well. What fearest thou? No one has seen who threw the dagger. It came to me last night—this brilliant idea. Before this night is done, the Bishop shall lie in a puddle of his own blood!”
“Ffen! Stop this! This is not the way!”
“Not the way for you, perhaps, but it is my way!”
“You can kill him in your dreams, Ffen!” Ifunka cried before he delivered a solid blow to Ffen’s head with his staff, knocking the boy down unconscious.
He then grabbed the Ffe
n and carried him back to his cell to rest. Ifunka washed the place where he had hit him and covered him in a blanket before retiring to his own cell. The senior monks moved through the monastery, locking each novice in his cells, pending a full investigation into the circumstances of the assault. Inconvenient as this might be, Ifunka was relieved that Ffen would be locked up and unable to pursue his plan, perhaps, until the Bishop had left and all danger was averted.
Chapter VI.
Brother Ushwan
Ten years, by Tremna reckoning, passed by, like water flowing down an eternal stream. The cycles and revolutions of time come and go quickly, almost imperceptibly as onlookers stand oblivious to its motion. Time comes and time goes, whether one sits idle and motionless or whether one runs headlong into action. It moves and bends and curves and twists in an infinitude of probabilities, guided only by the choices of free will and the decrees of fate written on pages of chrysolite by the Hand of Providence. The boys, Ifunka, Ffen and Shem, like all boys, but little heeded its passing, nor were they aware of the paths that their own choices brought into being, nor did they recognise the threads of fate sewn into the warp and woof of existence that unfolded before them like a tapestry rolled out slowly and unnoticeably across the platform of eternity. Thus did ten years pass within the blink of an eye, as each boy grew in knowledge, character and experience, until they had plucked the fruit of maturity from the lofty tree of adulthood.
Ifunka grew tall like a lofty bole, some six feet high, his features became strong and refined, his hair bushy and thick and his scraggly facial hair grew in strength and length, such that he now had a wiry red beard reaching to his breast, proceeding only from his chin, with no moustache or sideburns. His eyebrows were also thick, his shoulders broad, his arms strong but lanky (like his legs), his nose long and jutting forth, and his gait proud and regal. Ffen also grew taller, but only to about five feet; his face grew round and healthy, his hair straight and shoulder-length and his arms and legs both short, such that he appeared sturdy but not obese. Shem remained thin but gained considerably more colour in his skin, becoming a healthy light-green with thick, wavy hair, long arms and legs, standing midway between five and six feet tall. Ifunka continued to absorb knowledge like a sponge, soaking up every new word and phrase, fact and proverb, incorporating each within the web of his knowledge and understanding. Though disillusioned with the Theocracy, he grew in piety and virtue, and his friendship with Brothers Wiffka and Ffen deepened. Ffen’s fanaticism died down for the time-being and no one discovered his involvement in the attempted assassination of the Bishop.
Green Monk of Tremn, Book I: An Epic Journey of Mystery and Adventure (Coins of Amon-Ra Saga 1) Page 9
