Friday, November 7, 2008

An Ancient Tale #135 (part 5)

Old Horth leaned heavily on his talking staff
Walking with the weight of years and worry
His 47 anos have not been kind to him, but he stays in good spirit
And now with the coming of the winter circle welcoming God’s gift
The return of the Sun cycle
Placing the twelf totem, the massive pillar on its way
With the markings from the water carriers, Zethines
Soon all twelve tribes from all of the villages and the outlying hunters
Would gather on the plane of the ancestors
Near the mouth of the creation delta
The Henge mounds have been tended
Meat and grain have been laid aside
His apprentices have been schooled
Why did this script need to raise its hairy head again?
Capturing speech in markings in the dirt
Tales are to be told
Symbols on a tablet will cause the People to worship the clay
Not listening to the stories of God
Horth had learned all of the speech symbols from his teacher, Gareth
Gareth had been a great warrior priest, keeper of the scared tales
Hunting the lion that attacked Arrack with Gareth is how Horth
Became lame
On that hunt in the dust while waiting out the lion in the hills
Is where Horth learned these symbols
Gareth convinced Horth that the People must not create this false God
Or God would surely punish the People
Horth promised Gareth
The lion circled back on the pair and took Gareth and Horth’s calf muscle
Before Horth could strike a fatal blow
Horth fingered his talking staff, feeling the mark for Gareth
The marks on the talking staff were just memory devices for stories
They were not the same as the marks in clay
Children played near the wall, kicking a goat-belly ball
It was always good to hear their laughter
The Mothers were meeting in the fire circle this evening
They would be planning the lineage, arraigning unions, determining education
The intermingling of tribal blood was essential
Girls and beardless boys would be given places within
A village’s walls
Horth needed to see to the completion of the pillar’s position
This new one would align with the winter’s setting sun
The calendar would be complete
The first of the three was for the rising of the summer’s sun
The last of the second three marked its setting
The first of the third three aligned with the rising winter sun
This last one would mark its setting
These sacred days set aside to worship God and to praise his
Creative power and our thanks for his gifts
The summer festival is for life and creation
The winter festival to mourn our dead and show the strong connection
To our ancestors
Horth’s talking staff handed down from tale keepers of the long past
Leads the People in worship and praise
He wanted Zontan to follow him, but that may not be God’s will
Zontan remains an enigma to old Horth
After checking on the proceedings for the Mother’s meeting
He will head down to the grove of trees during the evening’s breezy time
To listen to the whispered words

Monday, November 3, 2008

An Ancient Tale #135 (part 4)

Weasels and jackals were active tonight
Zontan and Uris could see the distant glow of the fire circle
Three full moon’s from tonight would be the winter’s end
A time for both putting the year’s dead to eternal rest
And when the Mother’s would select mates for the hunters
And farmers, toolmakers, priests, and others of each settlement of the People
The Mothers determine who we are; the Fathers what
Zontan had avoided Bibe’s choices, so far
He was well past the time for starting a family
Even Uris had fathered two children by Bethe
They were fatherless now, but the Mothers would take up their care
The People’s tradition of the line determined by the mother
There were twelve settlements, descendents of the twelve daughters of Orb
Soon all would be walled villages along the river
Sumer’s wall was nearly finished and all of the stilled homes
Would be abandoned
Quetin was not comfortable about leaving his family home
He enjoyed the solace of living on the edge of the river and village
Near his obsidian store
Quetin did not have the solitude of the hunters in the hills
On the platitude above the river’s banks was the circle
One entrance pointed to sunrise in middle anos; the other to sunset
In the end of anos
This end of anos, the People would raise the last, the twelf pillar
Each one carved to match each totem village
The inner circle would be complete
Horth, a son of Greathe and the keeper of the tales,
Would speak on the beginning of time and our placement in it by God
Stories handed down from the time of Aamdam and Evean
Zontan was there last month with the debate to expel Uris
He knew the symbols that Uris knew and the abomination that it meant
Capturing speech in symbols for all to see and not hear
Put in clay with no interpretation
The Fathers felt the fear; the Mothers knew it