from "The Sayings of Muad'Dib"
by the Princess Irulan
. . . .
[W]hat mountains of dead ashes, wreck and burnt bones, does assiduous pedantry dig up from the past time and name it History. ~Thomas Carlyle
. . . .
"The ’road’ is the earthly reflection of the sacred stellar way that leads to the dwelling of the gods.
"It leads the pilgrims to the sacred field of the star that represents the victorious sign of light, the return that has taken place to the divine origin represented by the star Sirius, that keeps secrets of our forgotten Origin".
Fulcanelli: on the road to Santiago
. . . .
"Luminous beings are we....not this crude matter!"
Master Yoda
. . . .
In no Time at all it seemed, Emlyn and Athena were on the road thanks to Manuel's help hitching Galahad and driving the coach. He even recalled directions to the Village of Sopa and Fog...
Although a bright day in the City by the Bay, Emlyn wondered how soon the fog would set in...but this she kept to herself. Athena seemed to be in high spirits; Em endeavored to stay upbeat. However, portents loomed...
'And so, last night,' Em continued in explanation to Athena, 'suddenly became nearly the same scenario as the first time I'd left Daryl's; only then, I hadn't known him as anyone other than Jack's late and non-lamented wicked uncle...' she paused, and noted with relief that Athena had let slip a slight smile.
'Sometimes; usually, really,' Athena began, 'when one notices a deja vu all over again,' her smile widened, 'it means that one is stuck in a loop. What did you then, what is it that now resurfaces in your life, and what can you do to change it?'
Emlyn sighed, gazing out the window at the coastal view. Running; that's what she seemed to always be doing...but not without reason. Perhaps that was the problem. Not running, but the reason she had to run.
'I knew I didn't wish to become involved in Jack and Aleister's schemes. And,' she worried the emerald lying heavy on her finger, 'I truly do not think that Daryl and I should marry...I never have. But, Athena; he made such a public show, on his knees, no less, in the hotel cafe...I couldn't say no!'
Athena looked bemused. 'Truly? Knees, yet! Well, then...that is news.' She took Em's hand and studied the ring. 'A fine stone. Rather heavy...'
'It is incredibly heavy!' Em worried the ring, 'But I should wear it, in the village. It is expected.' She sounded less than thrilled.
'So. What is the plan, then?' Athena returned Em's hand with a pat.
'Well, I guess, we will check in to the Inn, and see if Raimundo or Sebastiao is about. We'll try the antique shop, then, if all else fails...there is the chocolatiery.'
'I'd never thought I'd hear such disappointment at the expectation of chocolate!' Athena mused.
'I should give you fair warning, I suppose. The chocolatier, can be rather trying. Unless you love eternal, ego-based monologues all about Madame...'Emlyn groaned.
'That bad, is it? Well, we shall improvise as we go, yes? I'm up for anything, even a fainting spell, if needed.' Athena smiled at Em. 'I do hope you are able to find news of your friends, Em.'
'Yes, for that reason alone, I'm prepared to do whatever it takes,' Em allowed. 'However...I don't think I can be the novia that Daryl imagines me. And, actually, I don't think he really wishes it, either. He has a misplaced sense of honor or something. He thinks it is the proper thing to do, after...' Em sighed. '...after Sonora.
'Diego and Josephina...would have married, perhaps. But, I am not seventeen. Daryl is hardly twenty-something. And we can't run off now and live with the gypsies.' She sighed once more. 'I suppose...'
Life in Villa Encantada was always appealing.
They traveled along the coast road a while, both lost in their own thoughts. Emlyn noticed a fog bank out over the ocean, no doubt heading their way.
'I believe, when I return, that I will break this ill-fated arrangement.'
'"Many a good hanging, prevents a bad marriage."' Athena murmured.
Emlyn laughed. 'Shakespeare always gets to the meat of the matter, indeed. But, as trying as Daryl can be, he doesn't deserve a hanging.' She paused but a beat. 'It may not even work, with him...'
'Oh, he is mortal, this I know,' Athena commented, 'but he isn't the devil incarnate, although he has promoted a similar likeness perhaps. You did know him, when he was younger, no? Before the horseshit of this world drowned him.'
Emlyn thought about this. Would she have married Diego? Probably not, she decided. But, she knew what Athena meant.
'He was not always so cynical, or...controlling,' Em observed. 'He seems to fear a certain...liberty of others. I fell in love with Diego...but, I would have to live with Daryl.' Her pronouncement sounded as jolly as a death knell.
'Ah. Yes.' Athena nodded once. 'I have had the same realization, in a different way. The young lad I mentored has become at times, someone I hardly recognize. I am heartily pleased that we remain as friends.'
'Hmm,' Emlyn mused upon this. 'Shakespeare also noted that "the prince of darkness is a gentleman"; I wonder...'
Athena laughed. 'Well, then; you have no worries where Daryl is concerned. He is hardly a gentleman!' She stretched her long limbs and settled back in the corner of the carriage, one arm draped over the seat back as she gazed out the window. 'That fog bank seems to be racing us to shore...'
'I had noticed that.'Emlyn frowned at the surreptitious marine layer dogging their tracks. 'We're keeping pace though, so far.' She narrowed her gaze. 'I believe that particular cliff off to the left looks familiar...'
She opened the window and hefted her shoulders through, to address Manuel:
'Hola, Manuel!' Em shouted, 'Are we close yet?'
Manuel smiled down at Em. 'Sim! Better get used to Portuguese. We should be there in about 10 minutes.'
Em wriggled her way back inside. 'Lovely! We're nearly there. And I am so ready for lunch! How about you?'
'I'm with you, always. Semper Fides; never fear,' Athena assured her.
. . . .
Meanwhile, back at the eastern estate...
Daryl was at his library wall safe, musing that even if broached, any would-be burglar would be tres' disappointed by this cache; nothing but old documents, and none all that interesting. No bonds, stocks, deeds or wills here.
Daryl extracted what he was after, closed the safe and spun the dial. He then returned the Chagall which covered the safe; a color-splashed, fanciful interpretation of Mozart's Die Zauberflote; The Magic Flute.
He allowed himself that de rigueur painting-covering-the-wall-safe ploy simply for his own amusement. Anyone who thought, 'Aha! The old painting hiding the safe ruse!', would find only...
'...A bunch of old yellow papers; and seemingly worthless,' he smiled to himself as he sorted through them...
One old document from the early 1700s listed a Jergen Van Horne and
Hannah Van Horne disembarking from a point of entry in Massachusetts
which was somewhat unusual. Usually, either New York, Virginia, or even farther south to New Orleans were the more well known points of entry for emigre's.
Boston Harbor was his progenitor's preference, but why? What was it that drew them farther north, beyond even New Amsterdam? Eventually, the family did settle in upstate New York, but for some decades, his more far-venturing ancestors roamed the northern reaches of New England.
Daryl sat before the greystone fireplace shuffling through his papers; some ever-so-gently, to be sure. He sipped at his coffee and murmured to himself...
'But I, and everyone and their grandmother's dog, have all gone over the research and the land itself, and...nothing. Maybe we are being redirected?'
Daryl frowned up at the Chagall. Could it be? Much like this obvious hiding place held nothing in particular in its safe...
'Perhaps...?' Daryl chewed a pencil, an old habit from his smoking daze. There certainly was no lack of well-researched material all pointing to Sinclair and his merry band of Scots secreting sub rosa stuff across the pond...
'"We know that it is secret for it's whispered everywhere."' he quoth unto himself.
So, that left Daryl with what?
When he was thus stumped, usually a walk would help, or water. A swim, a bath, even doing dishes, put his left brain in suspension while the right intuitive side emerged to the forefront. Fire, also good. Working the garden. getting in touch with the earth elements and their devas; the wisdom of this he'd learned with the gypsies;
the value of elemental influence.
'Trying too hard...looking in all the obvious places, isn't going to work for this.' He began to pace the library, drawing back the heavy curtains, he mused on the ever-sedulous storm brewing in the east, and let his mind drift...but all he could think of was Emlyn. What were those two up to, she and Athena?
Thoughts of Em and how she had changed her moniker to 'Emlyn' from 'Emmeline' brought to mind her convoluted Welsh heritage. Her mother, Welsh and Cherokee; and her father?
The Swedish scientist he knew of all too well, but Axelis? What the heck WAS he, anyway? Not human, that was all too obvious. Daryl's computations went far beyond such mundane designations as angel or alien. He'd accepted Yeats' offhand remark about the Pleiadian warship as 'whatever...'
'The space between...' he mused. Something neither here nor...where? Even Yeats was no help now, he had become such himself. His battles were all on the other plane and we poor mortals now beyond his cares. Not altogether true, he knew that what They did on Their Side, affected Us Here. For better and for worse.
'Like a marriage,' he observed. There was something else...a thing about Em's heritage that his wayward thoughts kept circling. The Welsh connection. Now that was obscure...
In a trance, Daryl wandered to the bookshelves and drew forth a well-paged volume. Taking it back to the fireside, he seated himself in his favorite wing chair and oddly, found the reference he was looking for straight off:
"The Welsh romance Peredur, generally included in the Mabinogion, likely at least indirectly founded on Chrétien's poem but including very striking differences from it, preserving as it does elements of pre-Christian traditions such as the Celtic cult of the head.
Perlesvaus, called the "least canonical" Grail romance because of its very different character. Perlesvaus was adapted into Middle
Welsh as part of Y Seint Greal, and one episode was rewritten in verse and included in Fouke Fitz Warin."
'"...the "least canonical" Grail romance"', his arm went for the coffee mug and found it not.
'And!' he lifted a rabbatical finger heavenward, "its very different character", indeed.' He closed the book. That was all the space allotted to any wayward Welsh notions on the Graal in this accredited academic tome.
Daryl left the book in the chair and located his coffee. Sipping the cold brew, he began pacing again, stalking his memory for clues.
'There was something else...' Daryl, ever the actor, performed for the fire, if for nothing else; it was the way he was made and couldn't be helped.
'That's it. Yes...' He pulled back the drapes and left them open to the storm; clouds of roiling purple and black surrounded the estate, gearing up for attack.
'I'd forgotten; a different prince. The last true Prince of Wales, Llewllyn ap Gryffydd! A grandmaster of the Templars, and, who was also in the Ordre de Seon and the Ordre de la Rose-Croix; this
was latter llth century...'
And, the bastard Welsh prince Madoc had already reached the New Land some time previous; 1170, thereabouts. The Scots, Vikings, Portuguese, and Lord and Lady knows who-all, had certainly been a-voyaging there for some time prior to the tale of Columbus' 'discovery'.
Indeed...even Madoc's voyage had gone under the radar of most academic research which summarily dismissed it as 'myth", despite the Welsh Indians, the Mandan; records there were, by no less than Catlin and Lewis and Clark, of the similarities between Welsh and Mandan words. their use of coracles and not canoes, and much else which could not be denied.
Just as the Scots had intermarried with the MikMak, so too, had the early Welsh explorers become amalgamated amongst the local tribes, Cherokee included.
At least we're related in that, thought Daryl, his thoughts again straying to Emlyn; he knew his ancestors had also intermarried among the Cherokee tribe. He drank off his cold coffee and made a face.
Rolling Thunder rumbled from the storm brewing without. Daryl glanced skyward through the windows. T'will soon be upon us, he mused. Then he remembered there was no 'us'. 'Alone again, eh?' he told himself. He sighed.
'I should get a dog...'
. . . .
Wandering through the fog with Em, Athena became entranced by the odd little shops in town.
'Yet another antiques shop! Surely this is the one! We've passed a dozen already...' Athena looked through the window at all the intriguing objects, much like those she'd been forced by Emlyn to whizz on by til now.
'No, it's something about Camões, Portugal's Shakespeare...he's on the signage above the shop door.' Emlyn frowned at the latest window.
'Ah, I know him well! He is very popular still in New Bedford, on the eastern seaboard. Massachusetts has a large Portuguese population too...' Athena put her arm through Em's as they strolled on.
'Blast this fog! We're not going in circles, are we?' Emlyn was becoming frustrated, took out her weskit watch. '1.30 already.' she grumbled. 'I may have to resort to chocolate at this rate...Oh, look! Maybe--' Em disengaged from Athena and trotted to the corner. She turned smiling, and waved to her.
'At last!' Em declared as Athena, who did not trot, and rounded the bend like a sleek schooner into port. She seemed to glide when she walked...how does she do that? She must have been a dancer in her youth, Em decided. 'Voila!'
'"Luis Vaz de Camões", read Athena, glancing at the hanging sign above the door, '"Antiques. Curiosities". Quite right.' Athena motioned for Emlyn to open. Em hesitated.
'Eh, you must remember, though, here I am Josephina. Can you...do you mind, playing along?'
Athena eyed Em's finger, heavy with stone. 'Oh yes. I can remember. Lead on, Josephina,' she replied, all the while thinking, O what a tangled web I am helping to weave. Or perhaps, to unravel?
''Tis in the lap of the gods now,' whispered she to herself.
'Diosa be thanked, it's open...' Em breathed, relieved as the door gave way.
As they entered, she was again struck by the seeming opulence within. Not all the items here were valuable, and yet the settings, the placement of the objects, were masterful in providing that very impression.
Athena gazed about her enraptured. 'Wond'rous, indeed...' she remarked, stopping here and there to nearly caress a finely polished maple chifferobe, a silver tea service, a lute, quite old, with marvelous wood inlays of blond to rose, a necklace of kaleidoscopic opals set in knotworked silver...
So entranced were they by the treasures all about them they had not known anyone else was about until Em heard that familiar, never-to-be-forgotten:
'Welcome! Enter! I give you leave to come, and to go, from Luis Vaz de Camões...,' As if on cue, and bent to a beckoning bow, Sebastiao appeared before them, as if from thin air.
'Sebastiao! My stars, how you startled me!' Emlyn's hand went to her heart.
'Josephina? Good fortune smiles this day, indeed! And where is that rascal Diego, then?' His eyes were alight and matched well his smile, as he studied Athena's tall and regal person. 'But I see you have another companion, no?'
Em recovered herself as Sebastiao took her hand in both of his. 'Indeed I do. My good friend, Athena; and may I introduce Sebastiao da Silva.'
'Enchante',' Athena swept a small curtsy his way, much to Sebastiao's delight which set his moustaches a-twitching.
'The pleasure is all mine, I do assure you, dear lady,' Sebastiao purred a leonine reply that carried a weight beyond mere words, as he quickly dropped Em's hands and took Athena's hand, feathering upon it a soft kiss...
Well! Thought Em. Clearly, now that this emerald weighs heavy upon my hand, it has become taboo for kissing. This novia stuff is for the birds, she decided. Not for the first time...
'Mr. da Silva sold Deigo my ring of engagement,' Emlyn accused him darkly, clasping her hands tightly together.
'"Love is a fire that burns unseen...," quoth Athena. 'Naturally, an emerald with such fire, could only come from Camões.'
Sebastiao's grin widened and his burning eyes blazed anew. Em noted Athena's hand was still enfolded in his. He glanced at Em 'neath a dark brow.
'You have brought to me a fine treasure indeed, Josephina...which outshines all within my poor shop.' Tucking Athena's arm within his, he declared, 'Come! You have not yet had coffee, even if you have; for never have you tasted the coffee of Camões, Athena...' And, ushering Emlyn ahead, he followed with her friend, murmuring soft and secret words to her, so it seemed. Hmm.
The lovely rosewood jewelry counter was still as before, at the back of the shop and filled with rare and shining treasures in silver, gold, ruby, diamond, sapphire and naturalmente, emerald.
As Sebastiao prepared coffee, the women worship'd at the jewelry case. 'Oh, these cameos are divine, no?' Em swallowed. She was actually salivating. Surely that was just the effect of the scent of coffee.
Sebastiao returned from the office bearing an ornate silver tray.
Handing Emlyn her cup, he inquired, 'And will Diego be joining us?'
'Ah, no, Sebastiao, not today. Business, you know. Athena and I are off on an outing, just we two. And Manuel, of course. He prefers Santa Catarina da Serra, though, to antiquing...'
Sebastiao chuckled softly. 'Of course; and I hope his luck is favorable,' he commented with a wink. 'Well, then, to what do I owe the honor? Is there something here I may assist you in finding?'
Emlyn sipped the strong coffee, taking courage. 'Yes, perhaps. I was wondering if Raimundo would be about?'
Sebastiao hefted brows upward, 'Raimundo?' His glance sidled over Athena's way, lassoing her gaze momentarily. 'Ah, well now, let me see...I believe he was at la Catarina last evening...so, perhaps, yes.' He paused but a beat.
'I tell you what,' his smile included them both. 'As this is a special outing for you ladies, why do you not both join me there tonight for dinner? I am certain I can locate the roving Raimundo for you by then.'
Not ideal, thought Em, but better luck than she'd expected, actually.
'Hm. A bit later than we had hoped...' She looked anxiously at Athena. 'If we must stay on here tonight, would that be alright with you?'
Athena nodded her assent.
'Well then, that would be lovely, Sebastiao, and obrigado; I do so appreciate your assistance.'
Sebastiao smiled his tomcat grin. 'Marvelous. Shall we say eight o'clock, then?'
Emlyn raised her cup, Athena followed. 'Til then! Salud!'
'Salud!' echoed both as their cups clinked in solidarity.
. . . .
'So, now what? Chocolate, perhaps?' Athena inquired, eyeing her new old silver filigree bracelet she'd purchased for a very fair price from the wily Sebastiao, as the women left the antiques shop and headed out into the Fog of Mystery.
'Hm?' Emlyn's mind was full of thoughts other than mere truffles. 'Well, we could, but briefly. I must head to the Inn, secure our rooms, find Manuel and let him know we shall stay the night...' she looked over at Athena.
'It is a fine prize you won there...you know however, that the full price may yet be asked for? That easy acquisition was merely de'marche on Sebastiao's part.'
Athena's laughter was like silver bells. 'Oh, Em--Josephina...I hardly think the young rogue has designs on grave robbing.'
Emlyn's eyes widened. Athena laughed again. 'You have heard of robbing the cradle, yes? Well, when one has an eye for an older person...' She nodded, smiling.
'Athena, that is so untrue!' Emlyn often wondered Athena's real age; except for her shining long silver mane, there were no other signs of age about the woman...
'And most unwholesome! Sebastiao, a 'resurrection man'-- the very idea!' Emlyn dissolved into chuckling, herself.
. . . .
Early evening found the ladies ensconced at la Catarina, having taken rooms and contacted Manuel who, it seems, had done quite well for himself and was celebrating with a bottle of Colheita among friends at the far end of the long communal table. Emlyn and Athena were seated at the opposite end, keeping an eye on things, but rather away from the celebratory throng.
'Coffee, and an armagnac, por favor,' Emlyn ordered.
'The same for me,' Athena chimed in.
'I have had enough truffles for one day. The rose and lavender were soo divine, though.' Emlyn leaned back in her seat. 'And, the cordials! I may just try a tot in my coffee...'
'Thus far, we're doing well enough; although I am stuffed like a Sunday goose with truffles, I fear...' Athena mused as she gazed about the comfortable ambiance of the inn. The great fireplace was roaring as usual, and among families gathered at large tables, were also smaller groups of couples and young people crowded around the fire playing on guitars and concertinas, songs to which the crowd would sing along on occasion.
Brandy and coffees arrived and Emlyn proposed a toast:
'To...success!'
'Success!' Athena echoed, 'Josephina invictus!'
Em smiled at that. 'I do hope so.' She frowned then, sipping coffee. 'I must confess I am rather nervous about seeing Raimundo. He seemed...a bit, well, disapproving of Diego. That is, of our engagement.' Em bit her lip, 'You see, he was, is, a good friend of and first mate to my old beau, the Captain.'
'The plot thickens...perhaps you should fill me in somewhat,' Athena advised, all ears.
Em sighed. 'Yes. The Captain, Keithcliff, who helped us so much to secret Alice, and her husband Frank away to safety, not to mention my dear old Lev; we'd just broken out of jail in Pankhurst...it was risking much, as you may imagine; to ask my beau to suddenly take on three fugitives, and one who had been my former beau, no less.
'And, as well, to jeapordise his safety, his crew, his cargo, his ship! Oh, how he loved that old sloop! I did, too...' Em's eyes took on a misty gaze as her mind drifted along past byways. 'The Captain was truly the best of men. I shall never be able to thank him enough.' Em blinked and shook her head, close to tears.
'You should have seen that ship! Sleek, wood polished to a gleam, rigging tight and nothing out of place, oh, t'was grand to ply the sea, with the salt spray and wind in your hair...I would have been a sailor I think, should I have been a boy.'
'Would you, Josephina? I never realised...'
Suddenly, a low, strange voice drifted from behind them. They turned to find,
'Raimundo! And Sebastiao!'
Emlyn blushed, flustered.
'You're early! That is, it is good to see you; I am so glad that you could join us.'
Raimundo eyed them curiously.
'And you, are late. I have been waiting for you. come.'
Sebastiao smiled, and nodded encouragingly.
'We will have more privacy in back. Where we can talk...'
Emlyn and Athena eyed one another, and the men. Then they finished their drinks and took the coffee with them as they filed into the back room...
Em remembered this room. It was where the strange ceremony had taken place on their last trip. She hoped, for Athena's sake, that
they would be spared such tonight.
. . . .
Inside, a single candelabra provided the only illumination.
'Raimundo, I...' Emlyn began --
-- but Raimundo spun about, and put a hand upon her shoulder, while holding a finger to his lips. He shook his head once; no.
Silencio. He then motioned to her to follow. Athena trailed in their wake.
Sebastiao was already ahead of them, pouring something on the floor in a circle. Salt, she realised; leaving a portion open. The gateway.
Em sighed. So it was to be this, again, then. She would have protested, but, it would have done nought. She merely regarded Athena and nodded. Athena signaled with a look that she would stay, regardless. Good; in for a penny as a pound. (Or, as soon hung for a goat as a sheep? Em wondered...)
In the center of the circle was a sort of bower upon a raised dais.
As they approached, Emlyn soon discerned that it was indeed just that: branches of redwood, pine boughs, rosemary and lavender. Bizarre. Em had a sudden flash of her Otherworldly escapade with Gwydion then. But of the Twyleth Teg, there was no scent here.
Sebastiao was lighting other candles, as well as a censer from which arose the intoxicating aromas of cedarwood and sandal with hints of jasmine and rose.
Raimundo led the women to stand just outside The Gate.
He then turned facing them and Sebastiao joined him, bearing a cup and a small bottle.
Raimundo spoke at last:
'I know you seek answers. All will be revealed in due time. However, there is something that is required beyond the needs of either of us.
'Perhaps you are wondering who we are, really. We wonder this of you as well. This will tell us, and you, yourselves, the answer to that question. This must first be done, for nothing is to be revealed to those not of the Company.
'Fear not; you know me that well, Josephina.' Raimundo locked eyes with Em, and she saw nothing there but honest intent. 'We will stand as guardians and your paladins as you journey. We will see you safely escorted, and safely returned.
'"Orbis Opusculum Oratrix Oraculum Sanctum Invictus...'
'Pax Vincere,' from Sebastiao.
Raimundo then motioned to Emlyn and she stepped forward willingly, albeit somewhat nervously; still, curiosity won out as usual and she surrendered to the moment.
Raimundo turned to Sebastiao who handed him the small flask.
He uncorked it and poured a dram into the cup.
'What is it?' she whispered, frowning.
'Ros,' he replied, 'in English, dew.'
'In perfect love, and perfect trust,' he then handed the cup to Em.
Dew. Surely nothing dangerous in that...whatever it truly was. Emlyn
accepted the cup, and tasted the 'dew'. Oddly, it had no taste. She swallowed it down.
He then took her hand and led her within the circle and assisted her upon the bower. Meanwhile, Sebastiao was performing the rite for Athena, she noted.
'Here, you will sleep, and dream. You will remember. You will remember much. Not all; but only what you need for now. All is well, and all manner of things shall be well. Sleep now. We will be here when you awaken...pax, sister, and dream...'
Strangely, Em did just that; she lay back upon the fragrant boughs and almost immediately upon closing her eyes, found she was in Another World...
. . . .
Queen of the Night's Aria from The Magic Flute by W. A. Mozart (classical guitar arrangement)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0-10gSYMKx0
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