Or, so the tale is told.
But, I did say that I would write of true history.
It is unfortunate that there is little written history of my race. However, when the Clans arrived upon our shores, they did find culture, gold, and Mysteries. And, although my Mother’s people have chosen to live by themselves amoungst the Spirits of Tree, Stone, and Spring, they have maintained their wealth – wealth beyond counting.
So, when it came about that the Dux of Dumnonia had built his fortress, the unfortunate fact was that it lay on the edge, but within the lands of the Tribes. This he had not realised until he fell victim to numerous raids with arrows that flew with deadly accuracy through the Sky like silver Birds, from distances unbelievable. From these attacks he could find no defense.
Then, one Day, there arrived at the outer gate of his fortress a procession of men and women of the Old Dark Tribes. They were dressed in a splendor of gorgeous robes, short loin coverings, and head pieces – some of feathered crowns or Stag’s heads with antlers. Others had Wolf’s head helms and all had perfectly rendered golden bracelets, neck torques, and earrings. There was so much gold and golden amber – pieces as big as the fists of Gorlois – that he could only stare and shake his head in wonder at the sight. This was quizzical to him. They had been the aggressors; had shown their might and now came in all their dignity trusting that Gorlois, too, was a man of honour – and so he was. Gorlois opened his gates to welcome the peacemakers.
They had come, not in early morning, as would have been the Clannish custom, but just as the late afternoon Mist was rolling in from the South. They appeared as quietly as Deer, stepping from the Tree line of the Misty Forest. The Sun was low enough in the Western Sky to light the Sea like a great Fire upon the Water.
In the years to come, Gorlois, whenever describing and retelling this story would always say, “So, the Sun didst cast His rays upon this peaceful embassy like the radiance of Apollo himself.”
You see, the Tribes count their Days as beginning at sundown and ending with sundown – just as do the Clans – to honour the Great Mother, from the Dark Waters of whose womb all Creation has sprung. The Tribes hold that at sundown each Day, all things return to the Chaos of un-manifested potentials, to become again a great soup from which, at the next Dawning, a new Creation arises which BECOMES, – lives and breathes – until the next sundown, when all things UN-BECOME and return again to the Great Mother.
At the very front of the procession, Gorlois saw a man who seemed to him to be their Chieftain. At the man’s right was a woman, perhaps twenty years older than he. This woman was the Tribal Grandmother. Then Gorlois turned his eyes to the man’s left and there he saw Igraine. His breath left him. Her forehead and high cheekbones were painted with black dots. She was adorned with nine delicate five-pointed Stars tattooed just above the center of where her beautiful high breasts touched each other. Her fathomless black eyes were lined in powdered coal. A black Serpent was tattooed round one of her ankles and on the other was a band of gold with shells and bells hanging from it, which covered the top of her slender foot.
My Father, in his eloquent way, was later to tell this story many times: “I feared to cause offence… but try as I might, I could not keep my eyes from Igraine. Her beauty and grace rivaled that of Aphrodite.”
Igraine spoke the language of the Cymru as well as the older tongue of the Tribes. So, when Gorlois had asked her name, she had spoken it. He found her voice to be as sweet as of the Birds of Rhiannon.
And thus began the parlay. It was explained to the Dux that he had built the outer walls of his fortress around a Sacred Well that had been worshipped at and used for Healing from Times unknown. “But war,” they said, “was not for cultured men and women… not when a peaceful solution may be attained.
“The Sacred Well must not be imprisoned behind your walls and gates – it needs be open to all! How can we make this come about? What price would you name for us to come to agreement in this matter?”
Gorlois missed not a heartbeat, nor did his eyes stray from Igraine. He said, “No amount of gold or riches could be as fine as she – I would have Igraine as my wife and Lady of my fortress.... If she be willing.”
This, they had not expected! A sharp intake of breath was heard and a murmur went through all present. The Chieftain then responded “This is not a matter that can be decided here nor now. All of our decisions – especially those of this measure of gravity – are made by council. We will return to you, Lord Gorlois, with our answer at the New Moon.”
Now, Igraine was a Seer of her Tribe. She had been taught and initiated by the Tribal Grandmother, who, Gorlois would later learn, was revered and respected above all in honour and opinion.
After they had returned to their Forest home, what was lingeringly and torturously discussed over and over again amoungst them was whether their beloved Igraine could be given in sacrificial marriage to this Roman – Gorlois, called Dux of Dumnonia.
The things they struggled over were these: Could they let their precious daughter of the Tribe be held captive by this man? No, they could not – unless it be by her own will, for doing so would profane their long-held tradition, which deemed that a woman’s body was hers alone to command. If Igraine refused, should they summon all of the Dark Tribes to war against Gorlois? This solution would be at the cost of much bloodshed and many lives! Or, if not, would they simply abandon the Sacred Well? They talked with Igraine to see what she would say, for after all, it was her decision to make.
Igraine was powerfully loyal to her people as well as to the Goddess, so she thought about it and prayed to her Mothers of Earth, Stars, Moon, Sun, and the Seas and to the Great Mother of all things everywhere – the One who dwelled always within her heart. She made sacrifice; she went on a fast of only Water and the juice of berries. She deprived herself of sleep for three Nights and three Days. She went out into the wilderness with little covering, for she had no fear of the Wolfs and other Animals that therein lived and they held no fear of her. After all, thought she, “Am I not one with them in Spirit?” She was accustomed to communing with them – not only in this world of form but also in the Otherworldly Realms of Trance. So, she gave herself over to Vision and sought their counsel.
Each one, in turn, reminded her of the Mysteries and of the rightful way of things:
Igraine’s Vision
The Hind was first to approach her. She spoke...
“Listen well, Igraine: We mark the year’s beginning at the dark Time, when all the World has gone to sleep or died; when the Trees have lost their leaves of red and gold and have turned to brown and grey and when the Grain and Herbs have withered into their slumber. We count that at that Time the Goddess Herself has gone to rest from all her glorious works upon the Earth. It is to honour Her that we end and begin our year in the Time of falling leaves.
“Humans cut down the Grains and their seeds are gathered, else they fall to Earth. Either way, the seeds must be shed...and thus ensure that all living things will thrive come the next Summer.
“Do you understand, Igraine? All worthy things require sacrifice. It is simply the way of things.”
The Hare appeared...
“We, too, honour the Great Mother, at the beginning of whose darkness and slumber comes the season of rest and celebration – and of sharing our bounty of stowed food. For everyone, this is the season of staying within our sheltering homes, reflecting and planning for next year’s endeavours.
“But as the cold of Winter falls, your men hunt us, to fill your cauldrons with our meat, to flavour the Grains, Fruits and Vegetables that were culled at the gathering. They tan the skins of Deer and Boar to make the boots that your people need. Your women use the wool from shearing the Sheep to Weave the cloth that will become your clothing. Even do the Wolfs and Bears sacrifice their furry hides for the warmth and covering of Humans.
“This is our way of life. We must sacrifice for the good of others. We understand! We are all One! Every
thing under the Stars has a cost, Igraine... For all things needed or wanted, a price must be paid...”
“Yes, yes. Hare is right!” exclaimed the Owl. We tooo must hunt to live.”
Then Raven whispered...
“These are The Mysteries, Igraine. These knowings are our very life and breath.
“In the beginning, at the first moment, when the first spark was struck and the first vibration sounded, the Cosmos began. Then Creation sprang forth and rumbled with a great rumbling which continues to rumble until this very Day as all spreads out from the center, wherein lies the connection and the power of the ONE.
“All Rituals of life and every endeavour under the Sun are Sacred, Igraine. The Gods taught us how to do everything by their example at the Time of Creation – in the Land of Myth – which exists in the Eternal Present. As They do, so do we.
“For to us, you see, everything we do is an expression of Magic and Love for the Great Mother. When we eat, we are only imitating how the Gods ate in the Time of the Origin. When we work, we are doing the work that the Gods taught us to do. When we mate, and when Humans make Love, we are copying the great embrace of the God and Goddess at the First Time… the ecstasy of whose climax was then and is ever happening. For only by that coupling can the Cosmos remain alive. As I know you understand, Igraine, all things are connected. We must all honour the cycles of life in order for the life of all Creation to continue. We must fulfill the works and responsibilities that They have outlined for each of us so that we may each fulfill our destinies. For long generations before us and after we are gone from this realm, the Well has been and will be a part of the proper order of things.
“Every Time a Sacred work becomes un-Sacred, or a Sacred place is abandoned, the Magic of our world unravels just a bit more. Humans must keep the Sacred places of Spirit protected and venerated. This is imperative! The Spring – or Well of Nodens, as Humans call her – is such a place as this. She has been cherished for thousands of years. We of Animal kind have drunk the Sacred Spring’s Waters, as has the land around her. The Human Tribes and countless generations of their Ancestors have come to Her for Healing and Magic. Yet now the Well lies beyond the reach of those who need and would honour Her – imprisoned behind walls of Stone...”
Grandfather Oak stretched his boughs in the Wind and spoke thusly:
“Humans do not look forward to the next vibrational change on a Cosmic scale. Because when this happens, it will end all that exists. All of Creation will be drawn back to the Great Mother and will wait in Her womb for the next Creation to begin.
“My work is to go through the annual cycles of sprouting, leafing, colouring, and bearing acorns – then fading and lying barren, until She awakens all the Earth anew.
“Humans have a Great Work as well. Besides your everyday tasks, you must keep the cyclic Holy Days by feasting, performing the Rites and – along with the Gods – reenacting the Creation Myths, in honour of Them. As long, it is said, as we all continue to turn the great Wheel in this fashion, one cog at a Time, our world will go on and we will prosper.”
“Sleep well, Igraine,” said the Voices, “and rest now, child, from your Visions...”
Years later, when I was a child, my Mother Igraine told me that at that very moment – when the Voices had become silent – the Crystal that she was holding in her hand began to Hum. She also told that she felt the vibration of the Crystal go through her and connect her with all and everything, and that that was the first Time she had truly understood the meaning of “We are all One.” So, she Chanted over and over again, the Chant of Enlightenment:
We are all One... We are all One... We are all One...
The Earth, the Stars, the Moon, the Sun...
We are all One... We are all One...
Of feather and fin, of scale and skin
Of fur and blood and bone...
Of Herb and bough, of Sky and cloud
And bogs and sand and Stone...
Of Lightning’s blaze, of Thunder’s rage
Of all things yet unknown...
We are all One... We are all One... We are all One…
At the end of her Time of Vision, Igraine returned to the Tribe to relate to them what had been told to her and what she held to be absolute truth.
She addressed all who had anxiously gathered around to hear her, saying: “The Sacred Well of Nodens must be tended!”
She told them that she must offer herself as wife to Gorlois, but that he would have to allow Sacrifices to be made to Nodens’ Well, and to the monolith that stood within the Well’s enclosure.
You see, it had been the custom of the Old Ones, from Time out of memory, to place a monolith within the Stones holding the bubbling Waters of the Springs, rising from beneath the Earth. These monoliths have long been held to be indwelled by the “God of the Well” – in this case Nodens – or by the Spirit of the Spring.
Igraine explained that by agreeing to Gorlois’ offer, she would thereby become Guardian of the Well. But, Gorlois would have to vow upon his sword that never again would he hold prisoner the Well and the Stone. What is more, he must agree to leave open the gates of his courtyard, wherein was the Sacred Well, during the light of every Day from thence forward, so that people of the Tribes, as well as all others who wished to, could come for Healing, Blessing, or Divination. Lastly, he must agree that he would allow Igraine to perform the cyclic Rites and Festivals of the Tribes, upon their proper Times, within the outer courtyard of his fortress. If all of these conditions were met, then she would live with him in peace. And, according to his custom, she would vow to be faithful to him – giving her body to him alone – for as long as he lived.
Her decision was very hard for the Tribe to accept, for it was a departure from their Time-held ways. But, because Igraine had received these messages from the Spirits, the Tribe was compelled to honour her decision.
So came the appointed Time... It was the sunset leading into the Night of the New Moon, the first sliver of silver light as seen in the Night Sky after Her darkness – the Time of beginnings, of planting seeds and hailing the approach of the returning warmth.
Igraine – adorned in her Sacred painted symbols, clothing, and jewelry – walked out at the front of the peaceful procession with the Chieftain and Grandmother of her Tribe to approach the fortress of Gorlois.
They made to him their offer. Their beloved Igraine would give herself to Gorlois as his life’s companion. With her, they would give gold and more gold, amber and pearls and much more of that which they knew the Romans held to be of great account, for their Tribe had almost unlimited resources. They would also pledge their peace upon his house, if he would agree to all the conditions laid out by the Spirits in Igraine’s Vision.
Without hesitation, Gorlois agreed.
As I said before, Gorlois had Loved Igraine immediately. It was with a true and abiding Love that he welcomed her into his home and did never abuse his position with her. He honoured, revered, and accorded to her his respect, in the same manner as did the Tribes-folk and the Clansmen.
All of these things I know in the way of true history, not legend, for they were told to me, Morgan, by my Mother Igraine, who was there.
PART ONE
Foundations
Chapter 1
Igraine of the Tribes
Morgan
When Igraine had first come to live with Gorlois, his fortress Courtyard was terribly unkempt. The ground was muddy, rutted and pockmarked from the wheels of wagons and the hooves of Beasts. Along the interior walls were old stables, Goat and Sheep pens, and ramshackle huts filled with trestles covered in Barley, Oats, Vegetables, Apples and Mushrooms – some rotting – and were all attracting many Flies. Large, soggy, flea-ridden piles of hay and straw – which stank of mould, as well as slop buckets, which simply stank – were scattered here and there to feed the Animals, such as the Pigs and Dogs, who were left to walk about the courtyard freely. The Sows had made nests for their Piglets, which nests ap
parently were allowed to remain the whole year long. In the midst of all this filth stood Nodens’ Well.
Gorlois, true to his word, immediately saw to correcting the sloth of his workers – cleaning up the courtyard and repairing the Well. He lifted the Well’s monolith, which had fallen, and then returned it to its place within the Stones encircling the Spring. He cleaned out the hollow iron pipe that allowed the ever moving Waters of the Spring to run freely into a Stone-lined trench, to flow beneath the outer wall and toward the village. Then he helped Igraine to create a comfortable and pleasing garden setting around the Well. Nearby, Gorlois built shrines dedicated to the Cymric and Roman Gods and to the One who he worshiped, Mithras. In a distant corner of the courtyard, between a Thorn and an Apple Tree, my Father built a small, covered, Christian chapel. There, upon the Altar, he kept a bowl of Christian Holy Water – which was quite amusing to my Mother, because it had actually come from the Well of Nodens and had then been consecrated by sitting beneath the light the Full Moon for three Nights. He tied two pieces of Wood together in the form of a Christian cross and hung it upon the back wall. He thought this to be polite. “For, my dear Igraine” said he, “I promised to keep the Well open to everyone. Perhaps some Christian family will have need of respite also.” My Mother later explained to me that my Father had put it there, away from the other shrines so as not to create discomfort for those who would not mix their God with the Old Gods. Thus did Gorlois open his gates to all who would come to worship and to Heal at Nodens’ Well.
And so life went on, peacefully, honourably, and equitably between this Cymric-Roman and the people of the Dark Tribes.
Voices of the Stars Page 2
