But what I hold in my heart from that Night was looking up into Morgan’s beautiful face. I thought that the Goddess must look very much like her.
In years to come, many have said that both Bedwyr and I listen long and hold our council in patience. I do believe that this we learned from our long listenings to Morgan’s stories.
Of my relationships…
Now, Morgan and her Mother Igraine, as well as her older sister Morganna, were stunningly similar in the way of their looks. But Morganna had an expression that was very different from her sister’s. Even from my early years I felt as if Morganna was always watching me – but not watching me in the way of Love, as did Morgan. Morgan’s smile was as beautiful to me as Apple blossoms and her voice... it was sweet as the Birds of Rhiannon. But the smile of Morganna was more alike a sneer. And her voice was like the rasping caw of Crows and Ravens. Now, take me not wrong, I did indeed Love Crows and Ravens – for they had a great squawk which made me thrill with admiration of their might and power. But to hear the voice of Morganna was different. She was to me as a Nightmare and her every word an evil omen!
Morgan was proficient in the Art of languages. She had learned Greek, Latin, and the tongue of the Clans. Igraine had taught her as had she taught Morganna and Bedwyr.
My Mother, Tangwen, could neither read nor write and cared little for either. As for my Father, what was of value to him was that we learn the ways and Rites of Warriors. He taught Bedwyr also, of course, as a courtesy to Lady Igraine. And so, Bedwyr and I grew up with most of our focus being directed toward the skills and tactical Arts of warfare... and of course, of hunting.
Bedwyr... He was – and always will be – the brother of my heart. I Love him very much, although we share no blood between us. He was dark, small and lithe like his Mother and sisters, yet he did not have their beauty. What he did have was the Sight. This too – it seemed to me at that Time – he had inherited from Igraine.
More of the Dark Tribesmen and women have that Gift than folk of other races. Many of the Clansmen – and women, of course, such as their Druids and the “Seers,” have powerful Gifts of the Arts too, but somehow it seems when they mix with Roman blood, much of it goes away. Perhaps it is more their focus – or lack thereof – than blood. However there was one blazing example to the contrary... the man called Gwyddion, The Merlin.
He was more of the race of the Romans than the Clans... or so it was whispered. For his Mother was half of the Clans and the other half Roman. Rumours told that he was a bastard and so none really knew what blood his Father had. Although, because of his look, his Father had to have been a Roman, and a pure Roman. Nevertheless, he had the sight and great powers! He was well educated by one of the old Druids, it was told.
He had visited Igraine’s fortress two or three times in my childhood. I remembered him especially well from one visit. It was Igraine he had come to see.
At that Time, I had thought of all Druids as very old men, with long white beards, and so, was surprised that he looked so young! Morgan, who seemed quite taken by him, told me that Gwyddion, The Merlin, was considered the greatest of all Druids – “by his works” – and that many other Druids had spent twenty years to come to “Know what he knew,” while he was yet a boy. For all the years leading up to The Merlin’s first visit, Bedwyr and I were very busy being honed in the skills of physical combat with sword, spear, and bow. We learned how to use our long shields as an offensive weapon as well as a defensive device. And although many of the ranks of foot soldiers still used an axe as their only weapon, little training was given to us of these, for Marcus had higher ambitions for us. He knew that, due to Igraine’s late husband’s position, honours, and holdings, Bedwyr would be highly placed at the tables of Briton’s Warriors and that I would always be allowed to stand at his back, for he would insist upon it.
I was somewhat gifted with sword and bow, but never could I best Bedwyr. Even though he was much smaller than I, he was quick, cunning, and he had the Magic. He had great prowess in bearing weapons. He was magnificent! But then, I had thought, he was Igraine’s son.
Marcus knew many of the Roman military formations and the function of all the mighty Roman war machines: the siege towers, battering rams, the scorpio – or dart thrower, the catapults, such as the onager, which was amusingly named “wild ass” and the older – but still in use – ballista. We learned all the names of these and how to put them into action. Now, these I was interested in. The tactics and calculations of the battle formations fascinated me, for I was a thinker and was always pondering many diverse things.
As an example: I was greatly interested in the histories of all the peoples of these Islands and beyond. Most of the common people living in the villages and countryside surrounding us knew naught of history at all beyond the time of their own grandsires. They simply gave it no thought; or in some cases could not even fathom the concept of it! To these, three hundred years may as well have been in the “Time of the Giants”!
The exception were the educated wealthy. Although, as I had been told, with each generation that passed – since the Romans had lessened their presence and then withdrawn – there were even fewer of these who were literate.
Of course, there were still the Bards and the Initiates of the Isle of Apples, as well as the few Druids which were left in Briton, who could all read and write.
And then there were the people of the Old Dark Tribes, who remembered and repeated their histories by word of mouth from one generation to the next.
At the Time of my childhood there was yet another culture of people living around us. With the influx of the later Romans, there began to be brought Ideas of a new religion. These were the people of the Roman “Universal Church” – the only religion sanctioned by the New Rome. They worshiped a new Sky God who had sent a Son to Earth who had been sacrificed. It was very much, in that one way, like all other religions. However these people were different in the fact that they had but one God and they claimed that their God was the only living and true God... that there were really no other Gods at all! They held no respect or regard for the Great Goddess – or much for women, for that matter. These people were not like the original followers of Yeshua, who were kind and respectful of others. Therefore, those who honoured the Old Gods were very suspicious of them.
The Universal Church kept a hold upon the Christians of our lands until there came a Monk from Rome, named Pelagius, who turned the thinking of most of the followers of Yeshua in the lands of the Britons.
Of course, it was Morgan who had taught all of this to me. How else could I have learned it?
A note from Morgan...
There are still Warriors, many of whom had been The Caesar’s Commanders, who live here and are ready at the call to do the political and military bidding of Rome. But most of these have never given up their secret “Rites of Mithras” – Roman law or not!
In so many ways what had been Rome was truly gone from these Islands.
What was left of the vestiges of Rome were the Roman Britons, who had learned to live in the style and luxury of their Roman society.
By the Time of the writing of these, my histories, most of the people living in the lands of the Britons have gone back to the “Old Religions” of their Forefathers.
The Bear
Yes, I was a thinker and all my thoughts haunted me Day and Night. Very old thoughts for a child, I was told... very precocious. Morgan said that I had great potential to become wise and learned. However, I knew that I would never become that unless I could learn to read and write. By the Time we were past our seventh year-turn, Bedwyr had already been taught by Igraine to read and write. I must admit that I felt envy of this. Certainly not directed toward Bedwyr – and not an evil envy, but only a longing. There was a sadness coming over me. I felt that my true gift was to think and that my thoughts would be best written down. But how would I learn to read?
One Day, Morgan asked if I would like to go for a walk in the Woods with h
er.
“Just the two of us?”
“Yes, my dear one, will you come with me?”
I was thrilled, for I could never get enough of being with Morgan, even at seven years. This of course, has never changed in all of my life.
But to go on: We went for that walk in Morgan’s Woods and I saw her chirping and tweeting with the Birds. It always thrilled me to see that they responded to her. It seemed to me that they would copy what she did. They would look at her; one even alighted on her finger... a wild Bird! She held it close to her face and it snuggled close to her. And then we walked farther and there were insects buzzing and creaking all around us and she copied their sounds. Then a Hare came right up to her! She called him “Mortimer” and fed some wild lettuces to him, which she had tucked away in her kirtle.
Morgan seemed to me like the Spirits of the Trees. Although she was real – I mean that I could reach out and touch her – she sometimes seemed ethereal, otherworldly, but always completely and utterly fascinating. We walked farther into the Wood and she named the Herbs for me and what their uses were and I listened to her every word ... but then, of a sudden she said, “Let us sit down here Bear, for there is something serious I must ask you.”
So I made myself look very stern and serious. She smiled and poked her finger to the tip of my nose. We laughed.
Rays of Sunlight filtered though the branches above and fell upon her head, face, and hands; she did indeed look as one of the Twyla Y Tag – who my Mother had told me about – might. Then in her gentle and nonchalant way, she brushed my ragged hair away from my eyes and said to me quite suddenly, “Bear, would you like to learn to read and write? I could teach you… Igraine has taught Bedwyr and Morganna and I. I think that it is the greatest gift she could ever have given to us.”
Then in a moment of boldness, I blurted out, “Yes! Yes! It would be my second fondest wish in all the World.”
She looked at me quizzically and asked, “What would be the first?”
I cast my eyes downward and then looked straight into her eyes and replied, “No, Morgan, I cannot tell it; for it is a secret I must keep. Perhaps someday I may be able to share it with you, but not on this Day. However, take me not wrongly, I am thrilled and honoured, that you, one of the ladies of this great house would offer to teach me. Yes! And I thank you!”
“Bear, you need not speak so formally to me, we are like brother and sister. And I see within you greatness, though the ‘Voices’ have not yet let me know of your future or how it will play out. But I do know that you must have the Art of literacy. It is very important.
“So, would you like to tell everyone – or keep it a secret just between the two of us for now?”
And because I was shy for some reason about it – or perhaps, because to share a secret with Morgan was beyond a thrill – I said... “Morgan, oh yes, let us keep it a secret just between us two.”
She smiled and laughed. And that laugh was like the echo of the bubbling Spring which was just beyond our sight.
“Then it will be our secret. And when you have accomplished this, then you can surprise everyone.”
And so it came about that we would sneak away as often as we might without anyone knowing of it and Morgan taught me how to read and write the Greek tongue first – because it was the language of the intellectual – and then she began to teach me Latin, for she said, “I do feel that Latin will be very important to you in years to come.”
She also began, but did not have time to finish, teaching me the tongue of the Clans. She did not have time to complete this task, because, when I was almost in my ninth year-turn, there came one of the worst Days of my life.
It was the Day that Morgan left. She left our house, left her Mother, her brother, her sister and left me, to go to the Isle of Apples to become an initiate of the Order of the Great Goddess.
Our parting was short and bitterly sad for me. I had only a few Days to reconcile my feelings to the fact that this was what Morgan wanted.
I hurriedly made a necklace for her... “A child’s gift,” I chided myself after she was gone.
Then she was gone.
After our goodbyes, I ran deep into the Woods... Morgan’s Woods... And there I stayed for many hours of many Days – and I admit that I cried and cried and cried.
But lest I make it seem that Morgan was the only one that I Loved, let me speak of Bedwyr, the brother of my heart and my best friend. I Loved him as dearly as one could ever Love a brother. I do not know what life would have been like without him, certainly never as rich. We were almost mirror opposites of each other and it worked well, each of us admiring the other for the gifts and talents that we personally lacked. Never was I jealous that he was far more proficient in the Arts of war than I and he had the Magic and the Sight, which I did not. But then, of course, he was the son of the Great House of Igraine of Dumnonia.
We had much fun together. We would go hunting and fishing and did all the silly and mischievous things that boys do whilst growing up. And so went the next three years.
Then, on the very Day of our twelfth year-turn – despite the Snow and Ice that covered the rocky cliffs upon which Lady Igraine’s fortress stood – the great Merlin arrived to take Bedwyr away to foster him. He was to teach him the skills and Mysteries of the Druids and the movements of the Stars, new ways of Healing and much more.
He stayed with us for three Days, to celebrate the birth of the new Sun God, in our fashion.
In that year the New Moon came on the very Night of the birth of the new-born Sun God... “The Child of Promise.” This was portentous.
Gwyddion, The Merlin, who had every right to, performed the Druidic Ritual of the “Cutting of the Mistletoe” with a Golden Sickle, which he had carried all the way from the Snowy Mountains to perform this Rite at its proper Time. The New Moon after the Winter Solstice was the proper Time. It came upon a different Night each year, so it was an amazement to us all that they coincided on that year. And so was Lady Igraine’s household blessed with the “New Mistletoe.” He actually allowed us to watch as he climbed the Tree upon which it dwelled! I have wondered about that many times, but have never asked if we should have been allowed to do this.
To my astonishment and blessed relief, The Merlin offered to take me along with Bedwyr.
To be fostered by the great Merlin! That was a happy Day. I was sad to leave my Mother, sad to leave my Father and Lady Igraine too, for she was always kind to me. But I was so very excited and thrilled; for I had heard that the Great Merlin lived in a Cave in the Snowy Mountains, very far from where we were, far enough away to be a grand adventure.
We packed up a few of our things. I took my writing implements and the one book that I owned. We took our bows, arrows, some clothing, sturdy boots, blankets, some foodstuffs – and we left – never to be the same again.
Just so ended my childhood at Dumnonia.
Bedwyr
As a boy growing up, I knew of myself as Bedwyr of Dumnonia... the only son of the great Gorlois, conceived very shortly before his Death, as well as of my lovely and powerful Mother, Igraine of the Tribes; woman in her own right – Mistress now of the fortress and holdings of her late husband.
I had two sisters; one six years older and one thirteen years older than I. And then there was my brother of the heart, the Bear.
My sister, Morgan, was such a lovely girl. I Loved her well. I remember that even in her youth she was always writing everything down. She encouraged me over and over again, “Bedwyr you can read and write. Write down your thoughts and feelings.”
But to me, feelings were something felt – not written about. It was hard for me to make the connection of that.
As to my family...
I Loved my Mother very much. But of my siblings, though I Loved my sister Morgan and tolerated Morganna – the one I Loved best was the Bear, although he was not brother of my blood. I admired him in all things, even though he was not of my rank and station. But such things as that do no
t matter to a boy, nor would it ever have mattered to me, for I Loved him with a great passion. He was truly like a brother to me. We were exactly the same age, born on the same Night. Together we learned war and hunted and all such things as boys do.
Now, so many years later, I am writing these early events and memories, just as Morgan has ever prompted me to.
But I am a man of few words and all that I can say is that the Love which I felt for him as a child has only deepened and strengthened as the years have gone by.
I am finally, now in my fortieth year, writing upon these pages the remembrances of my youth, so that Morgan may add them to her collection of histories.
I have written on other pages the important experiences of my life: the grand moments, the great battles, learning of my lineage, the true nature of my birth and that of the Bear’s – he who would become Arthur, High King of all the Britons, of my championing him and of all the adventures we had with The Merlin, of the intrigues entwined in Arthur’s wedding, of how I have stood in Arthur’s shadow all the Days of my life – and have been much more than happy to do so. All have, or will be written. And I will give them to Morgan.
But I tire very quickly of expressing my thoughts, so Morgan, forgive this of me, as I know you will want to compile all these different pages in some chronological order. But these memories I will let be for now. I am weary this Night and haunted by Dreams unfulfilled.
Many things are afoot: Many virtuous, some evil, many painful things, Morgan, many painful things. This is all that I will say for now. Perhaps tomorrow I will continue.
Please keep this with all of your notes and as I have said, I will write more, so that by the end of my month of resting here on the Isle of Apples with you, you will have much of what I have felt in my weary, sometimes triumphant life. But above all, of the joy in my life for the honour of service – and Love I have born for the great one, Arthur.
Voices of the Stars Page 11
