The Prophetess - mythology.

[Ares Land]

A short tale from Tarandim mythology. (Used to be here http://sumneology.org/prophetess but I killed that website some time ago)



1.
The smell of the One I Serve behind the curtain is overpowering, sick and sweet, perfume and decay. He is Female, She is Male. She may smite any of us at any time. When the mountains were young, He was. When the Sun was not yet, She was.
The priests pound the rhythm of the sacred music on the bronze plates.
It is time to open the curtains and go down the steps, to be in the Presence and to die.
I go down the steps and breathe slowly, old wine and ancient rot, the odor of the fountain. I’m in a low and narrow cave, in the womb of the world. The smell takes possession of me; until I lose myself.
I know this time there won’t be attendants to call me gently, to wake me up before I disappear completely in the Spirit. The Fountain will consume me entirely and my bones will rest forever underneath the Temple.
Yet I am happy. I see myself: a young girl with ornaments of gold: bracelets, a heavy necklace. I see the king’s son: the linen robes are strangely stretched at the stomach. The robes were not tailored for pregnant women: only a virgin can feel the presence and live. I see the Earth and the Sky above, and the city like a small anthill, huddled between the river and the cliffs; Palace and Temple like small pebbles.

2.

Here in Ṭaga we call Her the Fountain, the Spring, the Source. We call Him Qeran, the Lord. He is the One who is both Male and Female. I was already feeling the call of the Fountain when I was a child, barely weaned. It is hard not to feel it, here in Taga where the pilgrims come. Soon He was visiting me in my dreams, and I knew I was to serve Her-Him, as Her-His voice.
The Elder of the Temple, Kenṭvɛh, never liked me. But he never liked the oracles much : he must have missed the days when he was a boy and he was allowed to breathe in the God and speak in His name. Now he is an old man, too set in his ways for his voice to give way to Hers and he would die if he descended for he is married, he has children and grandchildren.
His family had been in the Elders ever since the city was founded; his lot have never found much use for poor shepherds like me. But such was the law: I heard the call, they had to allow me into the cave.
So it came to pass that I served longer and more often than the other oracles. The pilgrims would ask for me, Rukah, the child who spoke so well with the Fountain, Qeran.
Once Kenṭvɛh said: “Child, the Fountain loved you. I have never seen Her favor an oracle so much.” and his voice was full of hatred, sour as vinegar.

3.

I had reached the age of marriage, I was a full woman, yet I did not care for that. Descending in the cave, talking with the Fountain, Qeran could kill me, but still I wanted to serve. I did not desire marriage. I wished still for the life of an oracle. I could live with my family, but I was not allowed to work. I could eat only pure food. When the Outer Moon was full and when it was new, when the Inner Moon was full and when it was new, I went to the temple along with the other oracles. I was the eldest by then and my duty was to help them through the rites.
On Auspicious Days, we would wake at dawn, drink some wine and eat a small morsel of bread dipped in oil and honey. Then we would purify ourselves into the ritual bath, filled with water from the Fountain and pray and fast until the Outer Moon rose.
The Elders divided the hours of the Auspicious Days between us prophets -- an oracle cannot prophesize any longer than the hour marked by the Temple’s water clock. I was the first to serve. I was the eldest, and the one best beloved by the Fountain.

One day the King went to hear our oracles. Maybe I had spoken for the King before. I did not remember it. The memories of our meetings with the God escape us. The King certainly did not remember me. Or he had never noticed me the way he had that day.
So I went into the Temple, and drank a full cup of unwatered wine to fortify me, I said the customary blessing and went below.

How the Fountain was strong that day! Seven times the attendants had to called me and all feared for my life, consumed as I was by the One.

When I came up and stood before the king, with the long dress and my ornaments, the Fountain, Qeran was shining through me. So I was told. The king was so awed that he knelt before me, his face to the ground, while I chanted:

Listen, O Rɛngarhas, I am your Qeran and your Fountain.
Your house I shall raise above all nations.
Your enemies shall flee and beat their chest in despair before your son.
And I shall appoint your grandsons to rule over all cities.

5.

Among the lesser kings, some said that I had been bought and whispered among themselves. But Qeran had so thoroughly possessed me that no one could in good faith doubt that I had reported the Words faithfully so the most pious came to Ṭaga and offered humbly to be vassals of King Rɛngarhas. So I was told.
The King himself did not care : the divine command had humbled him.
In the following months he would come to the temple service, in plain clothes, as if he were a low-born supplicant, for the sole purpose of seeing me again, and he so debased himself that his wives and the Elders began whispering amongst themselves.
And once he came to the service covered in ashes so the Elders would not recognize him, wearing the rags of a beggar and he dared ask the oracle if I would marry him.
The attendants cried blasphemy and tried to usher him out as I heard myself reply, in the Source’s voice.
O Rɛngarhas, this woman that speaks to me
Will speak no longer.
I shall give her to you as a wife.
And I command she bear you a son.

6.

Never had I hoped to marry anyone, never had I hoped to marry the king. The temple, the temple alone had been my life for nine years, ever since my seventh birthday. I weeped and mounred as the King carried me in person to the women’s quartes of his palace and for that he would not touch me even though the vows had been said and he had shared wine with my father.
Of his two wives, Soran the youngest, became my friend, but Avavsor mother of Taris hated me and she spat and whispered in the King’s ear.
Elder Kenṭvɛh came to visit him with the Prince, Taris. Still he would not change his mind. He came every night and played the lyre for me and in midsummer we became lovers.

7.

And it came to pass that Rɛngarhas’ rivals among the kings prepared for war, and they whispered amongst themselves: “the King of Ṭaga is making a fool of himself for love, he has seduced an oracle of the Source, he is filled with pride and sin and we shall take him down and punish him in the sight of the Source, Qeran.”
Rɛngarhas’ soldiers chanted war peans and beat their hearts in front of the Temple.
As I lay in bed, one night, tired and sick, Qeran came and comforted me, and showed me the generations of kings that would follow from my King, and their armies in the South with a mark upon their arm, and Ṭaga so great that I barely recognized it and other cities greater still and in their streets women and men spoke amongst themselves in tongues I do not know and went to worship into small houses that in a way were like the Temple and sang words I knew, words of praise for the Fountain, Qeran. I saw pillars of fire in the deserts and demons with the face of men.
And I saw my King with the arrow of a traitor king deep in his heart, and I knew I would avenge him.
Of this prophecy I said nothing to my King, for the Fountain had bound me to silence, so I bid Rɛngarhas farewell as the army left.
King and soldiers cried their long cry, like a mourning lament: “O Qeran!” they called. “O Qeran, Fountain of Ṭaga!”

8.

When Rɛngarhas came back, lying on his shield with dried blood upon his breast, his son, Taris went to me. He was not like his father. The King had been an ugly man, small and stocky, with an ill-kempt beard, but his eyes shone with kindness. Taris was handsome but his eyes were empty.
“When the Fountain spoke,” he said, “didn’t She say the son of Rɛngarhas son would reign over the nations?”
“That she said.”
“But which of Rɛngarhas’ sons will it be?”
“You are the only son. ” I said.
That was a lie, and he knew it. He asked again:
“Which one?”
My hand was on my belly, and I tried to say it was a girl I expected but the Fountain would not let me lie and I could not say a word.
He started to beat me, crying and lamenting and though he hit me with all his strenght, he did me no more than a child covered in snot. “Which son?” he asked, and asked again and again.

9.

Sixty old men were looking at me from their stone benches. Taris was smiling with glee as Elder Kenṭvɛh spoke, vomiting his anger out of a trembling mouth
“You have misled the king and led him into sin. You have broken your vows. You have been untrue to the Fountain’s words”. The heat in the Temple’s nave was terrible, as if a fire was raging underneath and Kenṭvɛh cooled himself off with a decorated fan, like an old woman, and I wanted to spit on his face.
When he was finally empty of rage and catching his breath, the voice that the Source had given me, loud, deep and clear, came up from my throat:
“Let your Lord, the Fountain, Qeran, decide. Bring her to the cave under the temple and if she sinned, the Lord, the Lady, shall kill her there and then.”

10.

I am happy and full of joy in my womb of stone. The smell of the Fountain, Qeran is in my blood and my blood is boiling and making my heart race and I run up the steps and tear down the curtain.
“A curse on you!” the voice that is the Fountain shouts, loud as thunder.
I am not standing in the temple: I am the temple. I am the stone, the pillars and the nave and so I let myself collapse. I make the tiles of my roof fall and I shake my walls like a wet dog. I throw one of my heaviest stones on Elder Kenṭvɛh, and another on Taris.
I am sick and almost dead but I force myself to walk out of the temple and down the streets of Ṭaga and tthe temple starts to burn. Cracks open in the soil,whereever I walk and soon the city smells of brimstone. The guards at the city gates turn away from me, and flee. I walk slowly through the fields until the sun sets, then I sit underneath an olive tree. I see the Morning Star and the Inner Moon. In my womb, the Red King of Ṭaga is kicking.

[mèþru]

I like this, reminds me of the story of Cellachan regaining Cashel from the forces of Lochlann.

[Ares Land]

Thanks. I couldn't say: I know pretty much nothing about Irish myths

[Bob]

I thought I'd share a short story I wrote; just a bit of Tarandim mythology.

Here it is: http://sumneology.org/prophetess

(Edit: moved somewhere more suitable than Google Drive).

I could not get the link to work but I wish I could read this. I like your other writings and they're very inspiring to me.

[Bob]

I like this, reminds me of the story of Cellachan regaining Cashel from the forces of Lochlann.

I like Irish mythology and such and have studied it a bit over the years. I've studied a lot of Celtic languages the past 5 years or so: Middle Welsh, Old Irish. That's pretty much it. A survey of Cornish.

[Ares Land]

I could not get the link to work but I wish I could read this. I like your other writings and they're very inspiring to me.

Well, thanks. Check the first post!

[Raphael]

Nice! Did the ancient Tarendim really know which moon was the outer moon?

[Ares Land]

Nice! Did the ancient Tarendim really know which moon was the outer moon?

I use 'Inner Moon' and 'Outer Moon' instead of the native words, which I think could be a little overwhelming. But i don't think any Massotian language uses 'inner/outer moon'. In Old Hieratic, they're called Equon and Mosin, possibly related to PGH *ei-, bright and *mo-, 'measure'.

But they must have figured it out very early: they could see that Equon was the closer one during moon eclipses.