Voices of the Stars

by Rowena Whaling

  After some Time had gone by, Gorlois could not be satisfied in his heart that he had done all that he could have to please Igraine, for never had she asked anything of him. One Day, early in their life together, he said to her, “Igraine, it is my wish that you would ask something of me – anything – just for your own pleasure. The pact that was made for our hand-fasting was an act of selflessness on your part. I know that you only agreed to stay with me to protect Nodens’ Well. I hope that you will never regret your decision. Please allow me now to give to you your heart’s greatest desire – even if that is to go back to your home and family.”

  Igraine’s answer was this: “My home is here with you, Gorlois. Not only because I am honour-bound to tend the Well, but because... do you not know that I Love you?”

  “Oh Igraine, will the Gods never cease adding to my good Fortune? I am a very wealthy man. I would send to the ends of the known world to acquire whatever gold can purchase for you, my little Bird. Please, just name it.”

  My Mother told me that she had not had to consider what was her deepest desire – for she already knew. She said, “I wish to become literate! To learn how to read and write, in Greek, Latin, and even the language of the Clans! I wish for you to find a Scholar who could teach me. This is my greatest desire!”

  “I should have known. It will be done.”

  True to his word, as always, within a year my Father had employed a man from the Greek Isles, who arrived with a full coffer of clothing and personal goods, all appearing to be new – no doubt from my Father’s largess. His name was Demetrius. And because of my Mother’s exceptional intelligence, it took her only three years to accomplish all that she had wished to.

  This had all happened before my birth, even before Morganna’s.

  Igraine

  I did truly Love my husband. It mattered not at all to me the difference in our ages. He was a wise and passionate man. Never did I want for anything. Never did my eyes or heart wander toward another man. Gorlois was everything to me. Except, of course, for my Love of the Goddess; my resolve to be Hers first never faded.

  Then one Day I realised that I was with child. Both Gorlois and I would have another with whom to share our joy.

  Now, it was the custom of the Romans, and a wise one indeed – for so many babies died in early infancy – to wait three full Moons’ Dances from the time of their birth to choose a name for a child. You see, a child was not considered a complete being until its name had been given. This I understood. I am told that it is a thought of many peoples – that within it’s naming is the power of a thing.

  A great feast was planned in honour of the naming of our child.

  Gorlois, as a Roman, would normally have the privilege of naming his first child. Although in practice, usually it was only the male children thusly honoured – as the Romans attributed less value to daughters than to sons. That, of course, was not the way of my people. But Gorlois, having had a Roman Father, was raised primarily in Roman fashion. His Mother, though, was of the Cymric Clans, who hold women in the same honour and esteem as their men. Regardless of Roman culture, Gorlois’ Mother had ruled her house alongside her husband. It was my understanding that my husband’s Father and Mother Loved each other well and had no problems coming to terms with these differing philosophies.

  But, as completely kind and genuinely thoughtful as Gorlois was, this was one Roman custom upon which he would insist. Or, at the very least, he hoped that his loving wife would defer to him in this one thing. Of course, I did.

  I knew in my heart that Gorlois was hoping for a son. I think all men do.

  Still the Voices whispered in my ear, “Morgan, Morgan”... always, “Morgan.”

  But, son or daughter, everything must be made ready for the naming celebration.

  So, on went the preparations for the Great Feast, which made everything aflutter in the entire household.

  There were strange and exotic foods, which had to come from far across the Eastern Sea. Many great delicacies were to be served to our guests, such as wines from the vineyards of Gaul, Fruits called Oranges, Figs and Olives – all of which had been very difficult to obtain, especially given the short Time that was had from birth to naming.

  The Hunters were all awaiting the perfect hours to hunt so that the wild Boar, venison, and great Fowl would be brought to the Fires in proper Time to be prepared and roasted for the feast.

  Everything was in fine order; the long trestle tables were to be clothed in long cloths of woven wool. Silk cloths of great value had been purchased – or given to us as gifts – to drape across the trestle tables here and there as ornamentation and some to hang along the walls; for silk, rather than tapestries, had the delicacy of an infant.

  All was done in honour of the babe. Gorlois spared no expense.

  Many people were coming to the Feast, for my husband was a renowned and noble man, who was respected by all. There were so many for whom arrangements must be made – such as places for them to sleep comfortably. And then after the Great Feast, there would be those who would remain at the fortress for several Days and for whom enough food and drink must be laid in. It was all an amazing ordeal, but it was Gorlois’ wish.

  Coincidentally, a dear old friend of Gorlois named Aquila – which means “Eagle” in the Roman tongue – happened to have come to our land about three weeks before the naming of the baby and had already been in contact with Gorlois. When Aquila had learned what was to happen, he was ecstatically happy for this blessing in Gorlois’ life.

  Now, Aquila travelled with a man named Yagouth – whose name means “Bull” or “Brute Strength” – and was the name of an ancient God of his people. He was a man from the mysterious Desert lands of the East. Aquila and Yagouth posed in the guise of master and servant. But anyone with “the Sight” or even common sense who observed them looking into each other’s eyes would see the great Love and desire that was between them. Those who knew them more intimately knew that they shared a bed. But they shared much more than desire and a bed – they shared a Love and devotion which comes perhaps once in a lifetime. And, it was a Love that I could “See” was as deep as Love could run – in this they were very blessed. So, when they arrived on the Day of the naming and I met them, I instantly had a very good feeling for both of these lovely men. They told me that they had brought a gift of great value across the Seas and Mountains from the distant lands of the East. I thought this was such a kind gesture on their part, although I had no idea what the gift could be – assuming perhaps it was something of gold or coin from Constantinople. I did not know – at that point, it did not matter.

  Finally came the Day of the celebration. It was a beautiful, sunny Day and so it was decided that the opening festivities be held in the courtyard.

  It was the custom for all of those who had a gift or a Blessing – a prophecy perhaps – to give it to the parents or Father or the child.

  The line of gift givers was long. Aquila, when it came his turn to speak, approached Gorlois together with Yagouth. Aquila made a gesture to Yagouth who then retrieved a black leather bag that was tied on his belt. When he opened it, a hush fell over all gathered. I am sure everyone thought it to be gold, but when he emptied the contents of the bag into his hand, there was a silk cloth as delicate and beautiful as one might expect from the farthest Eastern lands. He then peeled back the four corners of the cloth to reveal the largest and most exquisite pearl anyone in attendance had ever seen! A Sea pearl – so lustrous was it that it picked up the light of the Sun and could be seen from across the courtyard. An intake of breath came from many people as Yagouth held it out to Gorlois.

  “Please accept this token of our esteem for you, my friend, as our gift for your beautiful little daughter.”

  Gorlois exclaimed “It is a pearl!” At that moment, Yagouth said the word for pearl in his native tongue, which sounded very much like the name Morganna in my husband’s native tongue of the Cymric Clans.

  My husband said “Morganna
... That then, will be her name!”

  This was very quizzical to me, because I had wanted to name my daughter Morgan, although this was a name of the Clans. In fact, I had heard the whispers in my ears all through the Time of my carrying the child, and even before... “Morgan, Morgan”... You see – Morgan and Morganna mean the same thing to the Clansmen – ‘the Swirling Sea’. And now, here was this, a pearl from a faraway land, a pearl from a swirling Sea.

  Still, the Voices kept whispering in my ear... “Morgan, Morgan.”

  Six and a half years later, I was pregnant with our second child. Although he never said so, I knew in my heart Gorlois again wished for a son. But, our second baby, finally born at the end of my hard labors, was another girl. Gorlois came into my chamber and the worry and fear he had held on his face vanished and a great indulgent smile replaced it. He said, “How beautiful she is!”

  I replied “They are all ugly little red things when they are born.”

  We laughed. But she had a full head of hair – black hair, dark as Night. She did have a pretty face for a newborn... and she came out looking exactly like Morganna, who her Father adored.

  “My darling wife,” said he, “you must take what is your right – to name our second child.”

  This had been my heart’s intent, even if she had been a son. So I said “Morgan... I would name her Morgan.

  “I know what you think, my dear husband – you think our daughters’ names too similar. But you see, Morganna was named ‘Pearl’ in the tongue of Yagouth, whereas this little one will be named Morgan, which in your Mother’s tongue means, ‘Swirling Sea’ – the place of the origins of all that exists.

  “My people’s Myths say that – ‘Before the Great Goddess awoke into her conscious awareness, She was a Swirling Sea of Chaos, without form or order. Then a sound arose – the Great Vibration – and all things in the Heavens and upon Earth came into being.’ My people’s legends say that these Wisdoms travelled across the Western Sea with my Ancestors, from the ‘Island that sank beneath the waves’.”

  My husband smiled. He loved it so when I told him the Myths and legends of my people.

  Thus my darling one came to be named Morgan and soon she grew in beauty to match Morganna’s.

  And so it was that Gorlois and I now had two beautiful daughters. We had wealth, comfort and between us, a loving and equitable arrangement. Gorlois was very good to me and I was kind and comforting to him. Within my heart, there continued to grow a great affection and Love for him. And in his heart, I was the passion of his life. Thus it was for the rest of his Days upon this Earth.

  But, Gorlois was many, many years older than I. Betimes I wondered and worried what would happen to me and my daughters – and Nodens’ Well – upon his Death. I would seek the Goddess’ help and protection whenever that eventuality would come about. As for now, he still seemed young enough to me.

  As the years went by, I taught both of my daughters the Arts of Healing and of Magic, because this was my right and my Sacred duty. But as she grew, Morganna became more and more of a trouble and a threat. There was a sinister way about her. I hated to think this of a child of my flesh, but it was truth! I had the Gift – and the curse – of the “Sight.” I was able to “read” her thoughts – up to a point – at least when she was very young. Yet as she grew older, I no longer could. She was the only one I had ever encountered that I could not “read”! She frightened me. Oh, not that I was afraid for myself. Perhaps my fear was for everyone...

  Morgan

  It came about that when I was past my third year-turn, my Father became very ill and many people were in fear of what would happen to all those who depended upon him, should he die. His illness lingered and two years later, he still lay in his bed, withered. All the Magics and herbal remedies that my Mother knew how to use were keeping him alive… but not making him well. He was wasting. More slowly, albeit, because of her work, but not Healing. “Sometimes it is just a Time for someone to die” or so it is said. Death is, in itself, I believe, a blessing for that person – so that they may be refreshed in the sweet Fragrant Fields of the Netherworld and there cast off the failures – and successes – of this life. There, too, does their Spirit hold their attained Wisdom deep within – in order that they may re-form and bring that forth to this Earth to live again.

  “For how else,” my Mother bravely explained to me, “could we ever reach complete Spiritual Enlightenment?”

  But my sister and I only knew, or cared, that our dear Father was lost to us already.

  Igraine

  The Politics…

  I feel that it is important to write of certain events at the beginning of my history. For, during my first years with Gorlois and the hundred leading into them, much had happened in the way of political events on these, Our Fair Isles, as well as on the continent across the Eastern Sea. These things I came to know because Demetrius, the Scholar, taught me events of the world as well as to read and write.

  The Romans had pulled out of Britannia – as the Romans called it – quite some years ago, but still there were some of The Caesar’s Roman Elite Guard living amoungst the Britons, as well as the many people who had chosen to convert their culture over to the Roman way – and their Gods to the Roman Gods. Many of these Roman-influenced Britons lived in great Roman-styled villas that they had built. Within these villas, amazing murals were painted on many of the walls, as they had been in the living areas of Gorlois’ fortress. They had warm bath chambers. Tiles of painted clay of various colours – which had been fired in great ovens – were then set in pieces onto their floors to form beautifully elaborate scenes of their old Myths and Gods. They lived a life of grace and luxury. It was from a family such as this that Gorlois had come.

  Rome – as powerful and advanced in government, law, road building, and military strategies as she was – had long ago fallen into decadence and moral decline. Demetrius told me that she was but a pale shadow of what was once the brilliance and beauty of the ancient Greeks. Why, even, had the Romans taken most of the Gods and Goddesses of the Greeks and called them their own – renaming them and ‘demoting’ many of the Goddesses – this, due to their expansion of “Father-ruled” society. However, between the beginning of the Britons’ Romanization and now, Rome had turned her eyes Eastward to Constantinople, which had by my Time become the new Rome. It was the city of the Emperor Constantine, who had fought by the old “pagan” sign of a flaming cross.

  It was during his reign that there was much Chaos and competition amoungst various religious groups and factions – those who honoured the Old Gods and the old Greek and Roman Rites, as well as thriving influences from the far-flung Roman Empire. And then there were the Christians – a rapidly spreading mass of diverse theological ideas and so many different sects! – each with their own collection of Holy Writings and one disagreeing with the other – even as to who or even what Yeshua was. A fine mess it was.

  As a response to all of the infighting that that engendered, Constantine decided that there should be ONE Universal Religion for all Romans to follow – a Christian one. It was finally mandated that it was illegal for anyone in the Roman world to worship other than as outlined by his universal ‘Catholic’ Church.

  After centuries of Roman rule over Our Fair Isles, she was forced to abandon her dream of ruling the entire Western world. So, in the year of four-hundred ten – as Romans reckon it – Roman rule, Roman law, and Roman troops left the land of the Britons.

  The Legends...

  Legends abound of Martyrs, Mystics, Bishops, and Monks and of their great and Magical works. Some are even now developing. The oldest I have heard tell of on these, Our Fair Isles, is of a small group of men and women from Old Jerusalem, who had come to these Isles long ago; some call them early Yeshuites, but it is also said that they were really Jews, before anyone even thought of themselves as Yeshuites. It is also told that these men and women had come with a man named Yosef. It was so long ago now that the details ha
ve fallen into a haze. It is known that they established a House of Worship on the Isle of Apples within the Inland Sea, just beneath the Tor – not far from the Red and White Springs within the lands of the Order of the Goddess. The legends of these people tell that Father Yosef was a wealthy tin Merchant and a close relative of King Yeshua of Jerusalem. It is also said that they were good, kind, and charitable people, even so to the much more primitive Marsh Folk living near to their settlement. Some of their descendants remain, even until today. It is also told that Father Yosef planted the Thorn Tree, which still grows near to the Red Spring.

  It is ironic that when the Romans all became adherents of the “Universal” religion, and The Caesar converted them from their old “Pagan” ways – some in name only, of course – they began to persecute these original followers of Yeshua and to try to change their customs. They called them heretics! But to go on with their legend...

  Perhaps, it is closer to the truth to call them “Histories,” for these were very literate people and much concerned with keeping accurate genealogies.

  This same Yosef was said to have returned to Old Jerusalem and there to have rescued the two Miriams along with several other family members and good friends. On a ship they sailed to the Northwestern shore of the Great Sea, which is called Mare Nostrum, “Our Sea,” by the Romans, where their descendants have remained and flourished until this Day.

  By the Time of my writing these histories, there are not as many now in Briton who follow the “Universal” religion as there had been in my Grandmother’s youth.

  Yes, there are many legends of diverse Christian folk. But all this is another story, for someone else’s book, and written by more informed hands.

  Of Vortigern...

  Amoungst the Cymru Chieftains who had achieved the highest stature by their wealth and power there came to be a leader, a Warrior, one who stood above the rest in ambition and who especially disdained The Caesar and the Pontifus Maximus. He was a determined traditionalist, who would stop at nothing to restore Gwynedd – and all of the Clans – to their pre-Roman Clannish culture. His name was Vortigern. He had fought a few battles against those who would fell his cause, for many Dux – of a staunchly Roman bent – would try to take over the lands and diminish the powers of the Clan structures. These skirmishes were fought from South of the White Chalk Giant, all the way up to the lands of the blue Painted Tribes, North of Emperor Hadrian’s wall. But there he stopped. These Tribes are very old. They had been there already when the first Clans arrived on these Fair Isles. There was a Time when they wrote in fanciful symbols, which are still carved into large Standing Stones, dotted around their countryside – even on the wild Islands off the West and Northeast coasts of the mainland. Although, if they still understand these symbols, they are not telling anyone what they mean! These are the wild men and women of the Picti and are much feared. No, Vortigern would not go far into their lands, for they are the fiercest of all Warriors. So much were they so that even the Roman Legions and their “Britannian” troops – as they were called in the Days of Rome’s full glory – had feared to face them.