Vivienne finished braiding the fine beads and yellowed satin ribbons into her daughter’s hair. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“You look beautiful!” They embraced. It was one of those hugs where everything; gratitude, love, forgiveness, and goodbye were all wrapped up together. Vivienne tried to compose herself before she stood out of the embrace, squeezed her daughter’s hands, and silently left.

It was customary to give the bride an hour alone before her ceremony to consider whether she truly desired to spend the rest of her life caring for one man and their offspring. Some brides really did decide that a life of housewife duties was not for them. And to this day, there is no penalty for cold feet during this hour of solitude.

Both Vivienne and Cyrus had higher hopes for their daughter. In fact, the entire community had higher hopes. Public opinion was that Noelle had chosen to waste her life and gifts on one man, gifts and talent that could have been better used to serve the community.

Noelle stood at the window in the bride’s tower. It faced the south where Amos had built a small house for the two of them. It was a beautiful place to raise children. As long as you kept an eye on them so near the rocky cliffs and the sea.

Amos was a fabulous constructor. He could frame a house in a day, pack it with the mud and sand mixture the next, and whitewash it on the third. He would create open balcony rooms just for fun. All of his windows were uniquely designed and placed to let in the best light or breeze. He was admired by many.
At least he can still be himself. The thought crossed Noelle’s mind before she had time to stop it. It’s not that she regretted giving up the priestesshood for Amos. She clearly loved him. It was rather that she wasn’t entirely keen on being a housewife. She liked to walk the edge of the northern cliff and peer across the vast sea at the horizon, dreaming of great things. Inside her was a sense of adventure that would not let her sit idle.
Memory, the High Priestess, had told her that she had an incredible gift; that she could see in her a spark of something that could be exactly what the people needed. She claimed that with proper nurturing, Noelle could become the ‘Visionary” she had been looking for these past years.

But not if she chose marriage.

Choosing marriage meant she could never be pure enough for the temple. But it would be wrong to secretly love him while spending her days serving the High Priestess and the people. Her heart would be torn. If that was wrong, then her choice to marry, even though she may have a gift, was right.

Defiance held her chin up, spine straight; long, lean, graceful as a ballerina in her delicate, off-white hand-me-down gown. She wasn’t sure if Amos admired her rebellious streak. He’d certainly never said so. Her cunning gray eyes sparkled in the high noon sun.

Turning from the window, Noelle spied a small ceramic table with a washbasin and a pitcher of water. The table contained a small drawer. Nothing was ever created here that did not serve a purpose, so she opened it. A book rested inside, nearly filling the space. The Tome. The laws and legends of the Avan. There were only a handful of copies of the book because paper was so rare. The ancients had cut down the first trees in the middle of the island to build the temple structure and make paper for books. Today there are a few scrubby trees, but nothing so grand as centuries ago.

Noelle marveled at the delicate pages and the hand-inked letters. The book fell open to a passage about marriage, obviously well-read. She chose to skip this passage and instead sought out the page containing her life verse, the one she would have taken in the Temple just a few short months ago.

“The true calling of one’s heart determines their place in the world.”

Noelle was sure her true calling was neither in temple servitude, nor confined to the white plaster walls of a home. She sighed, closed the book, and slid it back into its drawer.

She thought back to yesterday when she and her groom shared the traditional holy-water bath. A screen divided the two pools, blocking the view of each other, but the couple could speak about their future, truly alone, unashamed, uninhibited, just like it will be in their own home.

“Are you comfortable, Noelle?” Hearing her name breathed from between his lips sent shivery waves of desire from her head to her toes, followed by goosepimples that the hot water could not soothe away. She knew his question meant more than just physical comfort in the porcelain and marble bath. He was asking her if she was comfortable with him, with the idea of them together forever.

“Yes, Amos. I am completely content.” She knew then that she had to try this life, be with him, not the temple. This was real.

“I promise, you will have nothing to worry about. I will always prepare for you.”

At first, she blushed bright pink, thinking that he meant physically prepare his body for her, but then she realized he meant take care of her.

“You mean care for me?”

“Until my last breath.” Perhaps he was nervous, she had decided. His speech sounded too formal to be completely relaxed. What did he have to be nervous about? Noelle dismissed it as pre-wedding jitters, or perhaps arousal at being so close to her. She grinned to herself. If he wasn’t aroused, then he would be.

“This bath makes my skin feel so smooth. Every inch. I just want to touch myself.”

“Noelle,” Amos breathed.

“Hmm?” she asked innocently.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He was begging now, asking her to stop tormenting him. She decided she was torturing herself, too, so she acquiesced.

“Or you, me? I know tomorrow will be a glorious day and late tomorrow night, even better.”

During these thoughts, a smile had graced Noelle’s lips and a blush colored her cheeks befitting the exuberant bride. If she’d had a looking glass, she would not have recognized herself.

Tiny bells chimed outside her door denoting that the hour of solitude was at an end. A priestess entered, carrying the small set of hanging bells. She placed them on the table and smiled at Noelle. This young woman had chosen the temple just last spring. She had been in this very room and left behind a very disappointed groom. Her name was Lidia.

“What have you decided, fair bride?”

Noelle was sure her smile was expectant; that the light in this young woman’s eyes was hopeful her decision was to join their order. In fact, the High Priestess probably sent this youthful lady to tend to her as a physical persuasion for the temple. The message was clear: See how much you would have in common; age, situation. She would suit you.

Hope glinted in her hazel eyes that she made as warm as possible. Noelle had enjoyed Lidia’s company during her study at the temple, but the young woman also had a tendency to sit too close to her and offered to share her food or quarters with Noelle. Here she stood, awaiting the moment she could speak some scripted words of welcome the High Priestess had made her memorize for this occasion. Noelle took a slight satisfaction in crushing that hope. It was only too bad she had to crush Lidia’s heart as well.

“I shall marry Amos.” She could not stop the smile that crept across her face as his name crossed her lips.

“Very well.” Lidia gave a small bow. Noelle felt sure it was to mask her disappointment. When she rose again, the smile was still fixed on her face but the light was gone from her eyes. She pinned the canary yellow veil to Noelle’s scalp with precision, concentrating on its placement in order to avoid meeting the bride’s steady gaze. Her rehearsed prayer to keep the demons at bay came out sounding a bit rushed. Perhaps it would not ward off the demons as effectively without her heart behind it.

Thinking only of the ceremony ahead, Noelle followed the priestess down the stairs to the chapel area. Butterflies that hadn’t shown up before, made an appearance now. She was about to reveal her choice to those gathered for the ceremony. When the doors opened, they would all react. She decided to keep her eyes on her future husband and no one else. After all, he was the one that mattered.

An ornate door swung silently on well-oiled hinges. A collective gasp was heard as all eyes peered inside. Setting her eyes on the overjoyed face of her Amos, she stepped over the threshold and confidently down the aisle between the ornate columns and seated guests.

At the front knelt the entire host of priestesses. Lidia walked demurely before her swaying an incense burner to ward off demons from her sacred path to her beloved. She affixed the burner to its pole and turned to watch the bride ascend the two steps to the dias. The High Priestess was seated before her. As she rose, Noelle knelt, the picture of humility. When they rose, the attendant had handed a silver blade to the elegantly berobed woman. Noelle looked up at her face. She had aged quite a bit in the few months since she last saw her at the temple confirmation ceremony. It seemed impossible that the woman could have actually aged, but her face did seem to have more wrinkles at the edges and dark circles deepened her eyes.

“Behold, all who gather here, a young lady ready to become a woman and cleave herself to a man!” Did Noelle detect a hint of scorn in her voice?

“When you are ready..” The High Priestess beckoned for Noelle to again kneel, this time turned so her profile was to the people. She wanted to look up at Amos, but knew that doing so would risk her neck. She dutifully looked at the marble swirls of the floor. A hand pulled her braided hair up, and not too gently. Cold metal near her neck made her tiny neck hairs stand on end. Then in a few swift and strand-pulling strokes, her braid was cut off. Somewhere an onlooker muffled a sob. She wondered if it were her mother.

She stood and backed up two steps, allowing the High Priestess to wave her childhood locks above her head. Then in a swift motion, the braid caught fire and disappeared. The people marveled, a few gasps accidentally let out. No matter how many weddings they had attended, the hair sacrifice was always a shock to watch. Being on the dias with her this year, Noelle had a front row seat. It all happened so quickly, she wasn’t sure how the hair was consumed, nor where the flame came from. It was enough to nearly believe the High Priestess did have magical powers. But secretly, she never had before. Shame at questioning her Highness’s authority burned her cheeks, but it must have appeared sweet to Amos who gave her a huge smile.

A beaded necklace, old as the sea itself, was wrapped about her and Amos, as he had stepped forward to take her hands. They faced each other, grinning like fools while the ancient words were said, the song of joining was sung by the crowd, and the plaster platter was presented for ceremonial breaking. Noelle gripped it lightly, allowing Amos to do most of the smashing, humble as a wife should be. The people cheered as they left hand in hand to an ancient chariot that had been kept in good repair just for weddings.

The chariot lurched. The old donkey pulling it was a calm animal but not graceful. The crowd of villagers followed, shouting, cheering, and making merry. From here, it seemed the village supported their coupling, but Noelle knew they just wanted to feast and dance and drink themselves silly.

At her home, her parents welcomed all the guests and told the band where to set up out on the open roofed verandah. Cyprus filled flagons over and over. Noelle knew he had sacrificed three goats for the wine and had watered it all down to fill the 6 small barrels he’d traded some cheese for with the chariot owner. Noelle was relieved to sit down, after each guest congratulated the couple in the front room and began to mingle. Families each broke a small clay dish out on the verandah in their honor. Their cheers and clapping and stomping began to make her head throb. She leaned her newly cropped head on Amos’s shoulder. The guests ooed and ahhed, knowingly pleased. Noelle hated the attention and the rib elbowing she spied every time she and Amos moved. It was like she was the spectacle of one continuous inside joke. She was tired of being ogled already, and the midnight bell was nowhere near to ringing out her departure.

Families with young children left first, needing to get them off to bed. Then the older couples whose bodies could not take the late hours anymore. Finally, only the few bachelors of the town were left. Drunken jesting and boasting echoed over the soft final strains of the last song. The band left the house with three large loaves and the last small barrel of the wine, standard payment. Vivienne flushed the few remaining guests out as she handed her daughter her dowry bundle.

“I’m going to miss your morning coffee, darling!” Her mother hugged her, sniffling back tears.

“You will take great care of her, Amos.” Cyprus shook the groom’s hand warmly, then pulled him into a hug. The two parents traded places for a second set of hugs.

“No matter what anyone says, you follow your heart, Noelle. Remember that; follow your heart.” This was her father’s favorite line recently. At first Noelle took it as his blessing that she should marry instead of join the temple, but now it seemed deliberate and out of place. This was her happily ever after, wasn’t it? What more could her heart want?

When she pulled back from the long embrace with her father, Noelle saw that her mother stood with the lantern at the front of the donkey chariot. She was ready to lead her to her new home. This procession was much quieter than the last.

In the past, the guests would leave and follow the couple to their new home, presenting presents to them and welcoming them to their new life. But presents became harder to come by and the tradition began to fade. The temple also began giving smaller food tithes to the bridal parents as food became more scarce. Now they don’t even offer it. Wedding celebrations became more of a time of wine drinking and dancing than a feast and gift giving gala. Noelle wondered what tradition would change next.

At their new home, the groom’s parents waited in the darkness. They presented the couple with olives and figs instead of oranges and dates. Nuts were not in season and the orange groves had dwindled as arable land grew scarcer. More hugging and tears filled the candlelit front room that smelled of fresh whitewash. The two sets of parents exchanged pleasantries and well wishes and commented on the fabulous match their children made. The bridal parents offered kindly to take the groom’s parents home in the chariot. Finally, the newlyweds were alone.

“I’m so glad that is over!” Noelle collapsed into a chair.

“Too much wine?” Asked her husband.

“Not enough!” giggled Noelle. “I am exhausted. All that attention has worn me out!”

“Well, there is a freshly stuffed mattress in the bedroom just waiting to be laid upon,” suggested Amos.

“Mmm, I hear it calling my name,” smiled Noelle. “Would you help me with my dress?”

Amos sucked in a breath as he helped his bride slip out of her white gown. She crawled into the bed and he stripped down and followed her under the quilt, even though the night was warm. Amos loved the feel of Noelle’s soft smooth skin against his. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her tightly to him. He breathed in the lavender scent from the perfumed waters of the bath that lingered in her hair.

The sky was filled with stars, the night was silent and breezy, but all they had energy left to do was cuddle up together and sleep on the promise that morning would bring them happiness.
* * *
Darkness fell upon a couple of Grecian tourists who had rented a small skiff for a day of picnicking at sea in the warm waters of the Mediterranean. They hadn’t counted on the sudden August winds from the North that propelled them far from their small rented room in Anafi.

As they tried to battle the winds, a fierce storm blew up, spiraling them out further southwest. In a panic, the sails were not lowered in time and ripped to shreds. Waves tossed the boat like a toy. The now sodden couple could do nothing more than hang on until the storm passed.

Surprised at the sudden stop as the small craft was thrown upon a rocky beach in the pitch blackness, the weary couple unwrapped their numb arms from the rail. Using the last of his energy, the husband cut and dragged a bit of sail inland to drape between two rocks, forming a makeshift shelter. Exhausted, they dragged their bodies beneath it and slept. In the early morning gray, the husband awoke and pulled his fancy cell phone from the plastic bag he wisely tied around his waist and checked their location. Nisos Anydros, an island thought to be uninhabited.
Behind him sounded the crunch of sandals on rocky soil.

“Honey? Is that you?”

He squinted into the half-light, seeing a shadow move. Blinded by a sudden light, a lantern cover had been lifted, the yellow shaft cast upon him left those carrying it in darkness. A figure moved into the beam as his wife scrabbled from the shelter to crouch behind her husband.

“Are there only two of you?” a woman’s voice inquired in ancient Greek.

“Y-yes,” stammered the man. He gulped as two spearheads glinted in the glow of two more lanterns. Shadows moved beyond them. It seemed there stood an army before him. “Please, we were shipwrecked here. Do you have any food?”

“The goddess does not wish to be disturbed. Since you have no vessel with which to leave her island, you must be vanquished!”

“What does that mean?” The man leaned back to protect his wife with his body. The two spears lowered to point at the couple.

“You shall be a sacrifice to the goddess!”

The man frowned. He turned to look at his wife, whose face was pure anger rather than fear. Not to be outdone, he took on her countenance. “Very funny. Cut the drama and just let me call the Harbor Corps. I’m sure we’ll be out of your hair by lunch.” He held his cell phone up to his face.

“We do not welcome intruders. Guards!”

As the eastern sky turned into a dusky gray from merely dim, the man and his wife were silenced, their bodies thrown in the sea. Loud thumps and cracking wood echoed across the beach, sounds swallowed by the crash of the sea as the ship was dismantled and its parts carted off by the men. By sunrise, not a single splinter was left.

As a sliver of red-orange sun lit up the churning sea, a figure slid from a crack in the cliff face, ghosting up toward the village.
* * * * *
Talon paced outside the temple doors. His best friend was inside making a stupid decision. Getting married could endanger the whole mission. He wanted to stop the wedding, but could not jeopardize what he had spent the past 5 years working so diligently on. The last thing they needed was another person involved, especially her.

Talon had fallen head over heels for her the first time he’d seen her. Amos had been a nervous wreck, asking the younger friend for relationship advice he was in no position to give. Jealous, Talon had followed Amos, single wildflower in hand, as he bumbled over the words to say to Noelle under the archway outside of the temple library.

He had begun to steel himself to her beauty that day. The more she came around, the harder he pushed her away. He thought he’d given a pretty clear message that he was not interested in her. She was smitten with Amos anyway. He said the right things, amazed her parents, and was well-connected in the community. He was the image of ideal husband material of the village.

Noelle was not made of ideal wife material. The whole village was convinced she was temple material. She had perfect looks, was great at meditating, and dutifully performed any task she was given. The High Priestess chose the best looking young women for her personal entourage, giving them special duties that raised them above the rest. The village whispered that Noelle and her sister Fallina would both be chosen, making them the first siblings ever to serve and honoring their family greatly. The thought turned Talon’s stomach.

He had run into Noelle in the library more than once. She was betrothed, of course, so in an effort to push her away, he often played the opposite role to whatever she brought up. This only seemed to provoke her to action. The very thing he taunted her with, he would find her later researching it. That was the kind of person not destined for the temple. Too curious and the High priestess would get rid of her, somehow. That was the Noelle no one knew and that was the kind of person he did not need hanging around. The secrets he and Amos had so carefully hidden did not need to be exposed. If she ever found out, he’d have to protect her; and he didn’t trust himself with the job while his best friend was her husband.

Talon chose to slip inside the chapel where all the ceremonies had taken place since the Ancients had built it. Huge columns built from a white marble not even native to the island stood ironically over those that worshiped inside them; a society forbidden to leave the island worshiped its ruler underneath archways that screamed ‘foreign’.

The High Priestess was afraid of anything foreign. She held her followers closely to her by lying to them about the world. “This is the only land for miles and miles,”

she’d told his 5 year old cherubic face. “There is no other home. There are no pigs, cows, horses, camels, or any other animal of which you speak. They do not exist!”

She had forced him to clean the bath house, scrubbing the tiles for days on end until he stopped ‘telling stories’. His mother was so distraught that shortly after this, she’d left.

His father went to the temple for a week of soul cleansing from the distress and to await the results of the High Priestess’s divining. Being an oracle, she could just ask the gods where his wife had gone.
The neighbors promised his father would return good as new, but his eyes were blank and sad as he explained, “Your mother has joined the spirit world, Talon.”

The High Priestess stood looking over his shoulder and down her nose at Talon. “She dove into the sea and gave her life to Poseidon,”

she had added. “Her spirit dances with the goddesses above.”

But Talon knew better.

His mother had left a gift under his pillow. It was wrapped in a leather satchel decorated with shells. It was a book. Late at night he would burn a candle low reading, deciphering, and learning the secrets of his mother’s gift. She wanted him to find her and the book held the clues, he just knew it!

He’d researched for years, searching the temple library for images, words, symbols, that matched any in his secret book. But as he had always believed deep down, there were none. The book was alone; the only tie to another world. A world that held his mother. Knowing this, he could not worship in the temple. She, the High Priestess, was wrong. Seeing things through this light made the oppression of the islanders apparent. She was no leader. She was a tyrant.

But who would believe him?

Amos.

The two had stayed up late as was custom for bachelors on the eve of their wedding. Amos’s conversation kept going back to Noelle’s naked form in the bath next to his and Talon decided he’d had enough of that. He suggested a walk in the cool night air. The two ended up on the far side of the town where the beach turned rocky just before the cliffs took over the seascape. Climbing up onto a ledge to stare out at the vast sea, they hadn’t felt the ominously brisk August winds. Once they reached the summit and saw the angry sea, the dark clouds, and the pelting rain heading their way, they knew they had very little time to return home. They climbed down the cliff quickly, but the rain began in earnest before they even got halfway down and they were forced to take shelter in a crevasse. Sitting, they both barely fit inside, and often the wind would blow in a few drops onto them. These storms were ferocious but brief. They would wait it out. Boredom and darkness settled on them until they both fell asleep.

Hearing odd sounds below, Talon woke to catch glimpses of something big washed ashore below on the beach. It did not move, so he presumed it dead, but something else moved away from it. As he watched during flashes of lightning, it seemed to make a small shelter for itself.

Waking Amos, he decided to venture closer to it. Once on the beach, Amos ducked behind a rock, his morality holding him back. Talon bravely approached the beast. It was made of wood and hollow inside. Crawling about inside, he found some line, plenty of materials he’d never seen before, and some books. He grabbed them and rushed out to Amos.

Talon wanted to stay to see the thing in daylight, but Amos refused. He set off for home in the now gentler rain, as the lightning faded off into the distance. Talon dozed off back in the crevasse to await the sun.

He woke to the sounds of voices. Peering out from his small shelter, he was shocked at the number of people down below. He strained his eyes and ears for information. One voice echoing up from the rock face he knew well, the High Priestess. He silently watched as she ordered two people killed and his heart sank as the wooden vessel was dismantled. When he felt it was safe, he headed home.

Now here he was, having made a fantastic discovery that changes everything the islanders knew about the world, and Amos was getting married. It may be days before he can get Amos alone for any length of time to bring it up. He could hear the High Priestess saying the ancient words that created one harmonious life out of two. It sickened him to know that her voice was the same one that ordered the deaths of two people just hours before. Then the sound of a dish breaking as was custom for good luck.
So that was it.

Unable to deal with his disappointment here, he left the temple for the solitude of his room in the house he still shared with his father, who was at least literally blind.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 18.09.2011

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