by Jon Jacks
‘Of course,’ Prytani answers as she walks over to him, Tamesis faithfully following on by her heels.
‘Of course?’ Nechtan chuckles scornfully. ‘You say it as if you always listen to my instructions. And yet I can’t trust you, can I, girl? You didn’t take the potion I’d left with you, did you?’
Prytani shakes her head.
‘I’m sorry: it’s just that–’
‘Yes, you will be sorry, girl! If you can’t be trusted, you’re of no use to me!’
Swiftly reaching behind his back, swiftly whispering the charm to release Siren, he draws the great blade, swinging it as part of the same motion in a low, sweeping loop.
Siren sings.
And slices deeply into Tamesis’s side.
*
Chapter 41
Prytani lay with Tamesis.
The little vixen was dead, Prytani knew that.
But she hoped, she dearly hoped, that if they could visit the lady, she might be able to help.
Prytani stroked the little vixen’s fur. It was no longer warm, like she was used to. No longer, either, did the little fox make those odd little noises that Prytani always thought could have been laughter.
Her chest didn’t rise and fall as she breathed. Instead, it was wet; wet with her own blood. Prytani had had no chance to stop it pouring from the deep gash, no matter how many blankets or strips of cloth she’d wrapped Tamesis in.
Prytani shut her eyes tightly, thinking that when she opened them, she and Tamesis would be in the lady’s tower.
She’d tried it a number of times now.
But nothing was happening.
They were still lying together in their little cell.
Prytani tried to recall all the advice she’d heard shamans and seers giving their apprentices.
‘Just as we enter the world by being born,’ one had said, long ago, ‘we have to travel back through the womb.’
‘Drift up on the waves: return as a drop of water returns to the ocean.’
It didn’t really mean anything to her, she realised despondently.
And the tale that Nechtan had told her about making the potion? The one he’d said he hoped she’d remembered? Well, that was just his cruel joke, wasn’t it?
His way of telling her that, once he’d killed Tamesis, her only option would be to take the serpent potion, like he’d ordered her to.
But she’d disobeyed.
And Tamesis had paid the price for her disobedience.
There must be another way! A way of reaching the tower without taking the potion!
Leaving Tamesis’s body nestled in the hay covering the cell’s floor, Prytani rushed towards the wizard’s room. It was locked, of course.
He couldn’t have just anyone searching though his ancient texts, his secret potions, could he?
Bending her knees, she peered through the lock’s large key hole. She could see the window, the chest that usually lay beneath it slightly moved off to one side.
She recalled the trapdoor leading into the room, the one she’d watched the dead Cuamena descend into. Had Nechtan had another visit from the dead? Had he declared that the dead lords were payment in full?
That was why he’d allowed all the lords to be killed, Nechtan had told Prytani: to buy off the wrath off the dead. Besides, he’d added with a satisfied chuckle, their sons were ambitious, eager to take over the lands of their fathers – and, more importantly, they were loyal to Nechtan, especially after he’d shown them how he could release Siren from its sheath. Which, of course, he’d also swapped for a more regular sword, just to ensure the king was killed by the princess.
Naturally, he had worked out the true identity of the princess, Nechtan had boasted. She’d secretly moved close to the king’s stockade months earlier than her official arrival, giving the impression they were facing a regular werewolf, one who could only hunt beneath a full moon. That way, even if anyone had begun to suspect her real nature, what problems could there be with a wedding being held when there was no full moon? But the wedding was important to the princess, because it drew together all those she wished to kill.
Prytani stared wistfully at the trapdoor leading down into the tunnel used by the messengers from the dead.
She could use the tunnel to get into the room herself. But she had no idea where the other end of the tunnel came out.
She angrily kicked the bottom of the solid door in frustration. It gave an odd, unexpected rattle.
Glancing down at her feet, Prytani saw that a small wooden box had been placed to one side of the door’s base. Bending, picking it up, she opened it to find a small jar inside.
Along with it were a few small, pillow shaped pieces of baked clay. They were heavily patterned, but only with closely packed rows of indented lines at multiple angles.
It could be a form of writing, she realised, but one she would never have any hope of interpreting.
Then, below the clay tablets, she noticed a folded piece of parchment, lined with equally closely set rows of writing (the writer being careful with how much expensive parchment he used).
But this writing she could read. They were Nechtan’s notes.
They were his translation of the clay tablets.
*
Chapter 42
The Tree, The Serpent, and The Eagle
Being childless and wanting an heir, a king built a tower including a shrine.
Now in the shade of that shrine, a poplar was growing, with an eagle nesting in its crown, and a serpent settled at its roots.
When the eagle asked the serpent to be friends, the serpent agreed, saying, ‘Let us swear an oath to Utu.’
And so they swore an oath before Utu the Sun god.
The eagle was not to be trusted, however.
‘I will eat the serpent´s children,’ he thought, ‘and I will go up and dwell in heaven.’
And so he descended and ate up the poor serpent’s children.
Of course, the serpent complained to Utu.
Utu captured and killed a wild ox for the poor serpent, telling him, ‘Open its insides and set a trap. When the eagle comes to eat, seize him by his wings, pluck him, and cast him into a bottomless pit.’
And so the eagle ended up in a pit as dark as the underworld.
‘Am I to die in a pit?’ he would complain each day, beseeching Utu to help him.
At the very same time, King Etana was also regularly beseeching Utu to show him the plant of birth that grows in the heavens, enabling him to have an heir. For Queen Muanna had seen and heard of this plant in her dreams.
Finally, Utu showed Etana a path leading to the mountain where the eagle was trapped within the pit.
‘The eagle will reveal to you the plant of birth that grows in the heavens,’ Utu promised Etana.
So Etana began to fill in the front of the pit, to help the eagle escape. But when the eagle flapped his wings, he fell back.
So Etana threw some more soil into the pit. But still the eagle fell back again.
This happened seven times, so it was not until the eight month that the eagle was finally brought over the edge of his pit, by which time his feathers were fully grown once more.
‘Tell me whatever you desire, and I shall give it to you,’ the eagle elatedly declared.
And Etana said, ‘Open up my eyes to things that are hidden. I need to find the plant of birth that grows in the heavens.’
‘Through the power of Inanna,’ the eagle said, ‘put your hands against my wing feathers.’
And so, carrying Etana, the eagle soared high into the sky.
When they were so high that the land looked but a fraction of its size, the eagle said, ‘Look! The vast sea looks like a paddock.’
When they were so high that the land looked like a garden plot, the eagle said, ‘Look! The vast sea looks like a trough.’
When they were so high that they could not see the land, Etana said, ‘I cannot see the vast sea! My frie
nd, please set me down! I won´t go up to heaven!’
So for the first time, the Eagle dropped Etana – and then, plunging down, caught him in his wings.
For a second time, the Eagle dropped Etana – and then, plunging down, caught him in his wings.
For a third time, the Eagle dropped Etana – and then, plunging down, caught him in his wings.
Finally, for a fourth time, the Eagle dropped Etana – and then, plunging down, caught him in his wings.
The eagle said to Etana, ‘We did obeisance together, and passed through the seven gates of the gods.’
Seeing a palace with no seal, Etana went inside. The throne was guarded by lions: and, seated upon it, was an imposing, beautiful girl.
She was the Beauty of God.
She gave Etana the plant of birth that grows in the heavens. She also told him how to cultivate and use it.
And so Queen Muanna gave birth to a son, who was named Balih.
*
Chapter 43
A plant of birth.
Could that help Tamesis?
Hadn’t the lady spoken of a Tree of Life?
Prytani was confused, distraught.
She’d realised by now that Nechtan had deliberately left the box by the door for her: that the jar no doubt contained the serpent potion.
She unstoppered the jar.
She drank the venom.
*
The venom rushed through her.
If she had been a tree, it would be the sap, flooding up through her at remarkable speed, seeping into every area, every branch and finest twig.
She was at the base of the tower. Where she had seen the king battling other aspects of himself.
She was alone, however.
There were no other Prytani’s to take out her anger and frustration on.
There were no other visitors to the tower that she could see either.
There was no lady to greet her.
And, of course, no Tamesis.
Above her, stretching up and up, were the quivering, whispering cords, the glowing globes, the planets rising up before her.
All the planets, apart from the Moon, which lay beyond them all, beyond the lady’s room.
And the Earth, for that was where she was standing. Where she had no choice but to set off from.
The cords writhed, serpent like. The tower’s backbone.
What was a serpent, but a living, moving spine?
The orbs shimmered, trembling and glowing all the more as Prytani observed each one in turn.
Saturn, at the base of the spine.
Jupiter, the spleen (which she had seen cut from many dead warriors as an affront to their dignity).
Mars, the navel.
Sun, the heart.
Mercury, the throat, from where we really speak.
Venus, the brow, the third eye.
The Moon within her very head, so painfully bright, more like a captured sun.
Her skull was far, far too small to contain it. It was expanding rapidly, too quickly to be controlled, to be eased back.
If she tried to control it, she could only lose her head.
Her only hope was to expand with it. To let herself go.
To forget the one who she believed she was. To be, instead, one with everything else.
She spread out across the land, through the sky.
She rippled and rippled, expanding as fast as flooding water, as an intensely burning light.
She saw so many, many things. She was so many, many things.
And yet there were so many many more things that remained veiled.
*
She now knew where the entrance to the tunnel was.
It was in the thicket, not far from where the boy had made the clay figurine of Tamesis.
A coincidence? That depends on what you believe a coincidence really is.
Perhaps, really, a coincidence is a pointer, a means of direction in the way we want to live our lives.
Perhaps she’d been intentionally looking for the tunnel’s entrance.
Perhaps that was why any ultimate vision had been denied her.
Yes, that was why she’d returned to being Prytani.
Because she hadn’t been able to completely forget that she was Prytani.
Because, after all, she was still too tied to the Earth.
Still putting the concerns of the earthbound Prytani before all others.
Still locked within the body that she still continued to think defined her and made her who she really was.
Before she arrived at the thicket, she came across the boy again. He was pacing up and down a low-lying field, marking out positions with variously sized rocks he’d collected earlier and placed in a nearby pile.
‘Prytani,’ he said in greeting, looking up. Leaving his work behind him, he walked over to her. ‘I’m sorry: I heard about Tamesis.’
‘It’s a pity that what they said about you isn’t true.’ Prytani managed a sad smile. ‘I mean about giving the clay birds life: then, maybe, you could do the same with the clay Tamesis you’d made for me.’
With an ashamed smile, the boy shrugged.
‘Sorry.’
‘No, no, I’m sorry,’ Prytani answered quickly, ‘I didn’t mean to imply it was your fault, somehow. Sorry.’
On the floor, the boy had scratched the plans of a building into the dust. It was a small scale version of the plan he was setting out using the boulders. Circular, with twelve smaller circles surrounding it.
‘You’re building here?’ Prytani asked.
‘No, not here. Joseph’s been given land in Inis Wytrin. I’m just working out how it will look. A church, dedicated to my mother.’
Kneeling down by the small scale plans, he pointed to the twelve smaller circles.
‘These will be smaller huts, serving as chapels.’
‘You’ve learnt so much since you arrived here.’
The boy shook his head, chuckled good-naturedly.
‘No, it’s not all learnt here. Just across the valley from where I live in my land, they’ve been building a major city from the time just after I was born: Sepphoris. I wish you could see it, Prytani. Beautiful mosaics, the most wonderful buildings. All following the ideal of harmonious measurements and proportions to create a sacred space.’
Prytani looked at the boy’s circular design, its twelve smaller offshoots.
‘It seems we all look for ways of reaching up to the gods and conversing with them,’ she said with another sad smile.
*
Chapter 44
As soon as she was in the thicket, Prytani began collecting wood from the various trees, gaining permission from each one before removing it.
Next she collected up the clay figurine of Tamesis, placing it carefully within a protective blanket.
The tunnel entrance was hidden beneath a low yet wide-spreading bush. She slipped into it, making her way along the dank tunnel by feeling her way rather than using any light.
She had feared that the trapdoor leading into the wizard’s room would be locked, but it opened up easily. Normally, of course, the heavy chest placed across it would block any unwanted intruders from entering.
Placing the clay figurine and the collected pieces of wood on a table, Prytani began to quickly rush around the room, gathering up all the ancient texts and parchment and throwing them onto the stone hearth were Nechtan lit his fires. As soon as she’d piled up as much as she could there, she began to use the wood she’d brought with her to build a wickerwork platform on top of it all
Getting out of Nechtan’s room wasn’t a problem. Prytani found a spare key. No one stopped her as she made her way across from Nechtan’s room to her own small cell. Carefully picking up Tamesis, she carried her back to the room, placing her with equal care upon the platform she’d built.
Alongside her, she placed the clay figurine.
Then, using a flint, she lit the fire.
*
; Chapter 45
The wheat and barley in the fields was being reaped. Other crops were being dug up, gathered and stored, along with hay to feed the animals.
Within the great stone circles, Prytani watched the ceremonies, a wheel representing the turning year passed around until, later, it was lit and sent rolling down the hillside, symbolising the descent towards winter.
She was hungry. Without Tamesis to aid her, she could no longer tell people their future for a small payment of food. She had to steal to live. Now it was cold, she’d also had to steal a hooded cloak, dying it with crushed red berries to alter its appearance.
She had been travelling for months, but she was sure she was at last drawing ever close to where the werewolf lived.
Of course, the princess was always on the move, having to keep ahead of the troops pursuing her. Even so, Prytani sensed that she was heading in the right direction. It was something, she believed, to do with the way she’d seen the princess’s attendants dive into an invisible stream.
When she’d overheard Nechtan asking the dead to stop the girl from leaving, it hadn’t been herself he’d been talking about. It was the princess. He’d obviously realised that he would need the help of the dead to stop her fleeing along these unseen rivers of energy.
If the princess could travel along these streams, could she also help Prytani contact the lady?
The unfortunate girls the soldiers came across whose feet fitted the slippers were no longer being transported back to the king’s home. The king and his men hadn’t returned from their quest for the Halo Crown, and so now the girls were simply and immediately killed.
Nothing had been heard back from the king. He and his men had simply vanished. Many searches had been sent out, but every one had come back with nothing but rumours and tales, none of which had any real substance.
Even the shamans, asked to look out for the king on their journeys into the otherworld, would return with no word of what might have happened to him.
The whole kingdom was now suffering from the squabbles amongst the new lords, every one professing that only he knew what the king would desire, every one secretly hoping to wrest ultimate control.
