Please enjoy this "mini-chapter" while I continue to work on the next full installment of The Exile!
Interlude
<<Translator's Note: Here it appears that Markis departs from the main thrust of his narrative and inserts some details of his life before his exile. Whether this was his original intention, or whether this section was added at a later date to this point in the manuscript, we cannot say. Regardless, we have chosen to render it here in the same order that it appears in the original.>>
The courtyard outside the temple in my village is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. It is a large open area surrounded by a simple and yet elegant stone wall that is covered with carefully pruned ivy and decorated with fine wood carvings. On a beautiful day, the sun reflecting off the shining marble of the temple bathes the entire courtyard in such splendor that you feel as though you are as close to standing in the presence of the Omnipotent as mortal man can ever achieve.
And yet the yard's purpose is functional as well as decorative, for it is in this space that all the members of our village, our entire tribe, gathers for religious ceremonies weekly. In addition to regular worship services, we practice a number of unique ordinances throughout the year. On Ascension Day, held each spring, several important religious events occur. First and foremost, our High Priest makes his yearly visit to the inner sanctum of the temple, the Holy of Holies, and views the sacred relics kept by my people since the beginning of our tribe. In addition, it is on this day that young men of the appropriate age and sincerity are anointed and confirmed to become Priests of my people. This honor and duty is granted to only a select few who prove themselves worthy.
As the son of the religious leader of my people, my ascension to the office of a Priest was in little doubt, and yet I never felt as though I would receive the honor freely simply because of my heritage. If anything, being my father's son required me to work harder to meet the expectations of my people in all of my training and studies. During these early years of my life, the fears that would come to haunt me as an adult (the empty void of the sky, hurting those I loved, being left alone, the oblivion of death) did not yet exist, and no hint of them had yet appeared. In their place there was only one -- one singular and all-encompassing fear that shook the foundations of my tiny little world: that of disappointing my father.
I have written all of this so that you who read this may understand the story I am about to relate, an incident from my past that I have only recently remembered. I do not know why I have been dwelling so much lately on my life in the village -- the memories of that life are so distant now that often it seems only like a strange dream I once had so many years ago. And yet it was that life which shaped and forged so much of what I am now.
I was ascended to a Priest in my sixteenth year, some four or five years before my exile. I remember well the giddy anticipation for the confirmation ritual and my eagerness to serve in the capacity that I had trained for all my life. This excitement was reflected in the faces of every member of my tribe, for I was not like the other men who took that office. As my father's son, and therefore the heir to Alander's holy office, I was the future leader of my people. Their hopes and expectations, as I was often reminded, rested on my shoulders.
I was not the only young man who was made a Priest that year. The other was a boy my age named Jacek, my best friend and the elder brother of Shara, my intended bride. He sat next to me during the ceremony, and as we waited for my father to appear from the temple we shifted nervously with anxious excitement. He was as handsome as his sister was beautiful, already a hand taller than me and looking more like a man every day. We had been close friends and playmates since infancy, though lately our training and preparation for the office of Priest had provided little time for us to see each other. He flashed me a smile as the anticipation for my father's appearance built. I smiled in return.
My father appeared from the temple at last, and a somber silence fell over the assembly. His face looked radiant and purposeful, for he had just seconds before stood in our most sacred place and communed with our Creator and our ancestors. He stood before us all, flanked by perhaps a dozen older Priests who made up the Elder Council of our tribe.
"Speak to us," intoned one of the Elders, speaking with great ceremony.
"You who have seen the Holiest of Holies, give us your wisdom," said another.
"We ask you in the name of our Father, Alander."
"We ask you in the name of the Angels who gave him wisdom: Tharon, Veru, Damon, Lestra, and Iotor."
"We ask you in the name of the Omnipotent himself, speak to us!"
"We have a special destiny," spoke my father, in a booming and authoritative voice. The Elders moved back. "We have a glorious future."
He spoke with great sincerity and a kind of finality. The crowd murmured assent in response.
"You know the true name of our tribe. We are the {Taluid} - those who wait. But for what do we wait? And for what do we prepare? To what end must we dedicate ourselves, our very lives? It is well that on this day we remind ourselves the reason for our existence as a people, the purpose behind all of our traditions and customs. Let us hear the voice of Alander himself on this matter. Let us hear a reading from the Sacred Texts."
He nodded to one of the Elders, who came forward and read from a faded scroll. Though the text itself was in the Sacred Tongue, the old man smoothly translated the words into our modern speech with practiced grace and skill.
"Prepare ye, my children," read the old Priest, "Prepare ye for the time which shall surely come. Yea, hearken now unto the words of your father, Alander the wise, and make yourselves ready. I shall make you a tool unto the edification of all the world. Yea, and I shall make you a beacon of light to guide men's eyes. And verily I shall make you an instrument of creation and destruction for the establishment of the future times of glory in every corner of the land. Therefore keep ye my sacred relics, and study these words faithfully, and make ready for the time foretold."
"And so prepare ye, one and all, for the coming of your king and master. The son of power shall appear amongst you, wielding fire in his hands. He shall command the unseen spirits, and great beasts shall bow down to him. For he of all men shall know himself, and look upon the truth of all things, and he will lead this people to their destiny. Therefore prepare ye, my children, for none shall know when the time is near nor when the hour is about to come. Ye must always be ready."
The Elder fell silent, and the crowd fell into a reflective silence. My father spoke again.
"Let us always remember the special task that our great Father left to us: when the {Sha'Eluid} appears, we must be ready. It is to this end, my children, that we train ourselves rigorously in the arts of warfare. It is to this end that we train our bodies and our minds to be willing and effective tools of that great agent of change for whom we all wait. Throughout the year, when your burdens become great, or your mind grows preoccupied by the small troubles of life, remember our great destiny that is to come. If the son of power appeared tomorrow, would you be ready? Ask yourselves, my children."
He paused for effect, his steely gaze passing over each and every part of the crowd.
"That we might not forget our purpose, Alander appointed watchers over us. These men were called to remind the people of all that he had taught, and to guide us after the Father himself had left us and was buried in the grand square, under that great oak we can all see from here. These men we call Priests, and it is our great honor and joy to receive two more to that number today."
"Come forth, Markis."
My legs were shaking, but I stood and crossed to meet my father. The eyes of all my people were upon me, and I felt dizzy and unprepared.
"Markis, my son. You have been called forth by the Elders of the Taluid to serve as a Priest and watchman over these people and their descendents, from now until the day you leave this mortal realm. Do you accept this calling?"
My heart skipped a beat. "Yes, Father."
"Then kneel," he said, and the Elders came forward and surrounded me. One by one they laid their hands upon my head. My father spoke the words of the ritual in the Sacred Tongue, exhorting me to continue faithfully in the service of the tribe and to remember my sacred duties. When the blessing was over, the Elders moved away and my father motioned for me to stand.
"Rise, Markis, Priest of the Taluid. You have been ascended."
A scroll was brought, for I was to read a passage from the texts as my first official act as Priest. I chose one of my favorite sections to read.
"Do not hate your enemy," I said, my voice faltering only slightly, "for you were not made to hate. In you the Creator of Eternity has placed a piece of himself, and this we call love. Therefore love your enemy as your friend, and love your friend as your brother, for love is the very motion of the universe, the power by which the Omnipotence draws his power. Nothing that can come of love is evil."
My translation lacked the refinement and polish of the older Priests, but they knew that such skills would develop with time and nodded to me proudly as I finished my reading. I looked out at my people. Shara was weeping silently with joy, a great smile on her lovely face, and Jacek looked proud and anxious for his own turn. On every face I saw great joy and hope. I swore to myself in that moment that I would live worthy of the looks on those faces. If I were to betray that trust, that hope, I would never forgive myself.
Such is the bitter irony of life. _________________________________________________________________________________
The day following the ceremony, Jacek and I were rewarded with an entire day free from responsibility in which we could rest and celebrate our new position. Our childhood was now officially over, and we were given one final chance to enjoy it before it was gone forever.
We had decided long before that we would use this day to travel to the stream, one of our favorite spots for play since we were small. There was a particular spot near the water that we had claimed as our own many years before. It was the furthest spot from the village either of us had ever been, and so possessed an exotic air of mystery that would forever represent for us the pure joy of innocent childhood. To visit this place one final time together seemed only fitting.
As we walked, we spoke of the memories of youth and the life that lay before us.
"You will marry my sister one day," he said, "And then we will be brothers."
I clapped my hand on his shoulder. "We are brothers already."
He smiled and nodded but said nothing.
I remember it was a bright spring day, with the sun peaking down through the tops of the trees quite insistently. Everywhere there were shining shafts of light poring through our forest ceiling, painting the ground with puddles of glimmering heat. The water of the stream was still cool from winter, but the day was warm enough that we would not let that stop us from enjoying a swim.
As we removed our clothing, my eyes were drawn eagerly to his exposed body, despite my best efforts to restrain them. He had matured much since our last visit to the stream. The frame of his body was wider, more adult, and the hair on his body and on his genitals was thicker and fuller than it had been. He was not fully developed as a man, perhaps, but he was well on his way. As he walked to the stream, he passed through a shaft of light that made his skin glow like an angel.
Indeed, it occurs to me now how much the shape Damon assumed in order to please me resembled a slightly older version of my childhood friend Jacek. Perhaps it was because it was at this moment, as I watched my friend's body slip into the cool water of the stream, that I realized for the first time clearly a terrifyingly beautiful truth: I wanted to touch him, to explore every inch of him, to join with him. And this was not all, for even that physical desire could be explained away (indeed, we were warned always to recognize and resist the temptations of the flesh). More wonderful and troubling still was the realization that I loved him with as much strength and sincerity as my boyish heart could muster. Everything else grew out of that. If I wanted to touch him, it was to express how grateful I was to have him in my life. If I wanted to join with him as a man should desire a woman, it was because of this love. Was that evil? Was that sin?
"Nothing that can come of love is evil," I murmured to myself.
"What are you waiting for, Markis?" Jacek called out from the water.
I remember scrambling to undress, so that I could join him. As I was pulling down my small clothes, and feeling the rush of the open air against those most hidden parts of my body, I noticed something near my feet. It was a flower, growing all on its own, and so small as to be almost unnoticeable unless one was looking closely. It's petals were brilliant unstained white, and at the heart was a splash of glorious yellow. I had seen such things before, of course, but on this occasion I found myself transfixed by the beauty of the bloom. I stood in awe of the glory of Creation, whose beauty found itself reflected not only in this plant but in the person of my dear friend. As I stood, naked, looking at it, I found myself beginning to weep.
Jacek stood up out of the water as I approached, exposing his nakedness. Water trickled off of him gently, and he cocked his head curiously at the sight of me. I held the flower out to him. We stood there in silence a moment, both of us unclothed, staring at each other.
"What is this?" he asked at last.
I shrugged. "I found it. I'd like you to have it."
He laughed nervously, and took it from my hand. "Markis," he said, sounding embarrassed for us both, "Such gifts are better suited for my sister, not for me."
He dropped the flower casually into the flowing water and turned back to swim. I watched it drift out of sight until I could stand it no longer and felt my knees about to buckle. I splashed water on my face, determined not to let Jacek see my tears. I would force myself to forget the incident had ever happened.
I was not yet a man, and yet I knew at that moment that I was no longer a child.
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