BOOK III: A ROYAL SON AVENGES HIS MOTHER QUEEN LEAH

Aunt Nisci and Uncle Yurok raised Amorian well and true to his mother and her people.  On his eighteenth birthday they returned in the same itinerant’s wagon to the valley of the gods and camped near the site of Leah’s Spa. 

Amorian was a sturdy young man and he hiked the whole valley in his eighteenth summer and found the treasure trove that his mother left to him.  Not just the gold but the truth of his heritage.  He had her diary from the day he was conceived until the day she was forced by his father to go to Esagilia and die.  A true clansman Amorian vowed to kill the man to avenge his mother.  He could afford to bide his time but he would soon insinuate himself into the king’s household and position himself to take revenge.  The man must know why he was dying and that it was his own son who took his life.  A life for a life.    

He went to the small grove where his godparent’s had set up their camp, “Good morning, Aunt Nisci, where is uncle?”

“He is showing a soldier where the old spa was,” she told him.  “Four soldiers came this morning to survey the area for a possible buyer.”

“And who will they pay?” Amorian asked dryly.

Aunt Nisci looked up and smiled at Amorian, “Indeed,” she said, “May her soul rest in peace.”

“Her spirit is here,” Amorian answered, “She is around every turn in the trail, her spirit rests in every glade, and she dances with the gods of the valley in every storm.”

He climbed into the wagon and rummaged around for a bit emerging with a three stringed instrument, “The time of mourning is over, we have found mother’s spirit and now we can sing again,” he announced. 

Aunt Nisci bowed her acceptance of Amorian’s announcement and she entered their wagon in her drab black of mourning and emerged in colorful, traditional dress with rings and beads decorating her plump body. 

Uncle Yurok came back to camp with a chicken for the pot and a gold coin for his labor and that night Amorian played and sang in his fine tenor voice while aunt and uncle danced around the fire and they all ate the chicken and emerged from the years of mourning. 

Uncle Yurok stood behind Amorian with his hands on the lad’s shoulder’s as he sang one of his mother’s ballads and Aunt Nisci cleaned the dinner dishes in a bucket of hot water at the fire. 

The next morning they were awakened early by the soldiers who hired uncle the day before, “You must vacate the valley old man, we will survey and build a palace for our employer.”

“Sir, we are but tinkers who repair kitchen utensils, won’t there be a useful place for us here?” he asked thinking of the pot of plenty that they brought with them. 

“Who is the boy?” the soldier asked.

“He is our orphaned nephew and a fine troubadour.  You must hear him sing,” Uncle Yurok insisted.

“Play, boy,” the soldier said, less than polite but aunt served him a morning tea by the fire and Amorian played and sang. 

The soldier was more than pleased with the boy and the tea.  He decided that they were harmless and useful so he invited them to stay and repair the kitchen utensils and entertain the architect and builders until the palace was finished.

The soldiers set up a tent pavilion for the skilled craftsmen and a kitchen near the tinker’s grove and slowly the planners and builders gathered and began surveying the land. 

The three itinerants lived off of the over-abundance of the wealthy as was their custom and Amorian perfected his songs and wrote new songs to entertain the skilled craftsmen. During the day he wandered the valley and communed with its gods and his mother, Leah, but at night he was just the troubadour. 

The architect was a man name Benjamin who designed great, public buildings on retainer for Good King Amorian.  He soon confided in Amorian that he was the king’s long ago exiled brother and that it was the king himself who was having a summer palace built here in the valley and it was to be called Leah’s Palace.   

Amorian was stunned at his good fortune and decided he would stay until vengeance was exacted.  The gods of the valley would bring his mother’s murderer to him so they could witness justice.  Amorian cultivated his relationship with Benjamin to get news of the king and Benjamin grew very fond of the young man and his music.  Benjamin’s parents were also gone so he felt a kinship with Amorian who claimed he had never known his father and told Benjamin that his mother had worked in the spa’s kitchen and garden which was the literal truth.

Benjamin asked young Amorian if he remembered Leah and the boy shrugged and said, “She was very beautiful and always kind and treated everyone well,” he said, “She spent days alone exploring the valley and she could feed the wild birds and animals by hand.  But” he smiled sheepishly, “those are things that a small boy would notice.”

“But it tells me much about the spirit of the woman,” Benjamin said.  “My brother was a very literal man, I am surprised at his choice of a queen.”  Benjamin confided in Amorian about his brother’s actions against himself and his mother before he became king. 

“Then,” Amorian asked, “He was not a very loyal man and took his ties lightly?”

Benjamin thought about it and said, “Amorian was raised with duty as the center of his being.  It trumped everything else,” he added.

Amorian was quiet for a few moments, “I must write a song about a very sad man who put duty before love, family, and the gods,” he said.  “It is very contrary to the culture in which I was raised,” he told Benjamin. 

Benjamin nodded his head in agreement and they parted company.  Benjamin occasionally asked him about the song but Amorian explained that he was having trouble setting the tale to music.    

        An army of workmen arrived and much to Amorian’s horror they had every intention of carving one of the ochre buttes into stones for the palace.  He walked among the huge rock formations that night and heard the rumbling of the gods as man planned the destruction of one of the formations. 

Amorian walked out of the valley that morning as the workmen assembled and he encountered Benjamin leading the men to the formation chosen for destruction.  

“Join us Amorian,” he yelled.

“No,” Amorian answered, “You are toying with the gods and they are angry.”

“What is that talk?” Benjamin asked.

“Believe me not one stone will be turned without raising the wrath of the gods,” he said, “You are acting against an ancient place and it will not be allowed.”

Some of the men familiar with the legends about the valley began to hesitate and Benjamin was ahead of the group as he continued his march to the designated butte.  Suddenly, out of the clear blue sky a bolt of lightning knifed from on high and all that was left of Benjamin was a burned patch on the earth as thunder rolled overhead shaking the ground beneath them.   

The soldiers questioned everyone especially Amorian who had predicted the event just before it happened.

  The head soldier asked him, “Troubadour, what do you know of this event?” he cuffed the young man.

“I know nothing of this particular event,” Amorian said, “But I do know the legends and felt compelled to warn Benjamin,” he answered. 

“Bah, legends,” the soldier said and stalked toward the butte with his sword drawn and when he raised it over his head to strike the rock another bolt of lightning knifed from the sky and left a black mark on the earth and again the thunder rolled.

Convinced and panicked the workmen ran from the scene and tried to hide from the sky and even the soldiers were fleeing from the valley floor leaving Amorian standing alone before the gods. Having spent the night with the gods he said a last prayer and went to the grove and the tinker’s wagon. 

“What happened?” Aunt Nisci asked.

Amorian explained that the gods became angry because the men planned to destroy a butte for building material.

“They are fools,” Uncle Yurok exclaimed in anger.

Amorian and Aunt Nisci smiled at each other, “Indeed,” they both said.

The soldiers moved their camp further out of the valley and sent a runner to the palace to get further instructions. 

The king himself came to see what the problem was and said, “See, while my soldiers cower in the foothills these itinerants remain in their grove.  What does this say about my soldiers?” he asked. 

He rode into the grove and Aunt Nisci invited him to tea.  He wore no insignia and sat at the fire with the three and passed the time of day.

“What happened here?” he asked them, “And why aren’t you afraid?” the king asked.

The youngest answered, “The gods know that we would not so much as move a rock or pick a flower in the valley,” he answered quietly. 

“So you believe the legends?” he asked.

“They are the truth,” he told the king, “And not just legends.”

The king was silent for a moment, “But didn’t a woman once live here?” he asked.

Aunt Nisci observed, “Yes, many years ago but she is gone now.  She honored the gods and danced with them in the night,” the aunt responded.

“What happened to the spa?” he asked, “I don’t even see ruble,” he said. 

“It was struck repeatedly by lightening when she left and the winds dispersed everything,” the young man shrugged and said, “That is what the legend’s say, but we were not here then,” he answered. 

“But you were here when the lightning struck the builder and the soldier?” he asked.

“Yes,” the troubadour responded.

“And you weren’t afraid the gods would kill you by accident?” the king smiled.

The young man said, “The gods do not have accidents.”

“You are well spoken for an itinerant,” the king said.   

“We travel far and wide,” the boy said and spoke to his aunt and uncle in their native tongue. 

“What did you just say?” the king asked.

“I said that the shadows grow long,” the boy said.  

The king rose to go and before mounting his stallion he asked the young man, “Is there any way to placate these gods of yours?” he asked.

“They won’t allow damage,” he said, “It is unacceptable.”

The king mounted his horse, “I will figure out a way to make this project happen,” and then asked, “Is one of you the troubadour?”

“I sing a little,” the young man answered, “Just old music of the region,” he added. 

“I will be back tonight,” the king said tossing several gold coins on the ground, “You will sing,” he said to Amorian and turning the stallion he rode away to the group of horsemen who waited for him. 

Amorian clenched his jaw and kicked at the coins in the dirt, “I will see you tonight, father,” he spit out. 

“I can do it,” Uncle Yurok offered.

“No, Uncle, it will be my pleasure,” Amorian claimed the right.

They sat at the fire sharpening the killing knife until later that afternoon and then Amorian bathed in a pool and strummed his three stringed instrument and sang softly to the gods until the king returned.  If they had been at the main encampment each male over eighteen would have taken a turn sharpening the knife.  It was clan revenge as well as the revenge of Amorian and the gods. 

When the king returned he wore a knapsack and asked the young man if he would enjoy a short hike into the buttes. 

Amorian told the king in front of his men, “If you plan to destroy the butte it will not be safe for you to walk among the gods.”

“Bah,” the king said, “I have walked there in the past, I will be fine.”

Amorian looked at the soldiers as if imploring them to stop the king, but they had seen the king’s temper and said nothing.

Amorian shrugged and shook his head as if it was against his better judgment but walked by the king’s side toward the darkening rock formations.  The soldiers felt a slight shaking of the ground and looked at their officers.  They slowly began to inch back from the valley until they were moving en masse and when a bolt of lightning illuminated the whole valley they panicked and ran to the hills.

The king kept walking forward as if to meet a foe and soon they were far from the horsemen and a large storm broke out with great sheets of lightning illuminating the rock formations and the wind moaned through the formations as if there was a large male chorus chanting sacred music.   

The young man warned the king again but the king’s face was tired and resigned Amorian thought and he walked even more quickly toward the center of the valley as if to keep an appointment.

“You hurry to your death,” Amorian mocked him.

“Who are you?” the king asked.

        “I am Leah’s son, father,” he spewed out at the tired, old man and drew the glittering knife which flashed as a bolt of lightning crossed the sky and thunder shook the earth. 

        “Take your revenge, my son, you deliver me from a lifelong purgatory,” he sighed and raised his arms to the heavens in defeat and as a sacrificial offering. 

        Before he could plunge the knife into his father’s chest a bolt of lightning sliced downward and the man burned to a black mark on the earth a few feet in front of Amorian. 

        An eerie silence fell on the earth and a deep darkness descended as Amorian fell to his knees and acknowledged the right of the gods.  A chorus of male voices chanted a hymn that echoed among the rocks and then the voices lowered as Leah’s voice raised itself in joyful life again and Amorian rose and sang with his mother and he thought he could see her in flowing white dancing over the rocks. 

Fare well and flourish from the valley of the gods.

October 2013 Karen MacEanruig

   

BOOK II: The Reign of King Amorian, His Queen Leah and Their Son the Heir

Leah sat working at the desk in her business office while her son studied in the window seat.  She had prospered in the eight years since her trip to the festival in Esagilia.  Her people were nomadic tinkers, fortune tellers, and thieves if truth be told but Leah broke with the tradition for the sake of her son and she now owned and operated a popular resort spa in one of the most scenic areas of the Exiled.  Her clientele were the wealthiest of the wealthy who were constantly seeking new diversions and Leah had countered the opulence they were accustomed to for more natural, and simple lifestyle, exercise, and a light cuisine of fish, plants, and herbs that she raised and prepared herself with her staff.

The setting for her spa was a small unique valley of gigantic red rock formations, natural springs, scenic trails, and green glades for picnics and swimming. The area was unexploited and legend spoke of an ancient people who lived here in harmony with nature in the valley and it was said the valley could bring peace to the inner soul. Some of the mystic of the valley surrounded Leah but the truth was that she was a very practical, hard headed, business woman. 

“Mama, can we go home now?”

“Yes, son, we’ll go home for our midday meal but I have to come back and welcome our new batch of clients later tonight.”

Leah and little Amorian walked to their personal quarters in the spa’s complex of upper rooms and terraces.  Leah’s son along with many young boys were named after the King of Esagilia by the ladies who had conceived during the 200 Year Festival in Esagilia, when the Officiate Fell and the subsequent Coronation of King Amorian resulted. Amorian was healthy and strong because his mother made sure he ate and exercised properly.  He had a private tutor and already spoke the pathos of the expatriates and the more formal language of the city-states and his mother had been teaching him her native tongue since he was a baby. He would be able to function well on many levels of society.       

Leah and her son sat on a high terrace in their quarters eating a succulent, light repast of fish from local streams stuffed with herbed mushrooms and fresh fruit from her garden.  They looked out over a vast expanse of rock formations in every shape and shade of ochre possible. Mother and son hiked the valley together since he was a baby in a sling and now that he was growing taller they hiked side by side to some of the more hidden and beautiful ecological niches in the park that Leah didn’t share with the guests.  As was the custom with her people Leah had stashed gold coins and dried food in various places in the valley in case ‘troubles came’ as her people always said.

Leah had no way of knowing it but ‘troubles had come’.  She went that night to meet and greet her guests in the traditional dance and music she choreographed for the occasion.  The guests were gathered in a natural amphitheater in the rocks and when drums and the three stringed instruments broke the stillness of the starry, warm night she slipped barefoot from among the rocks in a flowing white gown and danced from rock to rock reaching for the stars. 

The audience was particularly quiet this evening but they were often taken with the setting and the music.  She began to sing in her jewel like tones leaving the contralto notes reverberating in the listeners’ minds along with the light, simple, movements of her dance.  The mood set by her musical introduction Leah launched into a short history of the valley and legends explaining the simple regime the guests would be following to harmonize their natures with the nature of the valley and instill inner peace.  She explained the importance of the food and exercise to the experience as lights played over the beautiful rock formations and then suddenly the night was quiet again dominated by the formations and the stars as she slipped from the amphitheater. 

She had no way of knowing that she danced and sang to only one guest that evening until the royal guard gently seized and searched her then took her to  meet the guest who could afford to book the whole valley for himself because his wealth and power was so vast.  She was gently escorted to the guest area and presented to King Amorian.  Shock took her tongue and he seemed equally paralyzed by the sudden, close up look at her. 

The guard whispered for her to bow slightly but she was frozen in place and time.  The King rose and dismissed the guard to a distance where they wouldn’t be able to hear the proceedings and patted the seat beside his own.

“Leah, my beautiful Leah, please sit with me?”

It was him she thought to herself as she searched for her lost poise and then she walked gracefully to the stone bench he indicated. 

“I am as startled as you, dearest Leah, I had no idea that you were my Leah,” he said.

Her mind denied his claim and she was suddenly concerned about her son.  Did he know about her son, their son?

“Come,” he smiled at her, “Has the cat got your tongue?” he asked.

She finally said, “It has been many years,” she paused and then added, “King Amorian.”

“And I was a very young boy and not a king,” he said graciously, “Call me Amorian as you did then.”

“Amorian,” she tried out on her tongue and made it sound musical.

“Didn’t you know that I looked for you everywhere?” he asked.

She finally sat next to him, “I didn’t even know that you were the Amorian that I met.  I thought when you didn’t come back that you died in the wilderness.  Apparently, you just had better things to do,” she said with some bitterness.   

“No, my love, it was a time of much chaos and I had a duty to perform,” he said.

“As did I, King Amorian.  You made your choice and I had my life to order.”

The King rose and paced, “I am sorry, Leah, but I love you still and we must get passed this.”

“It was out of my hands, King Amorian, you made the choice. I was not consulted and now I have my own life.”

She rose, “You have paid and we will begin your regime tomorrow,” she said and walked to the spa building. 

The King sat in the dark remembering a warm, green, glade and a decision he had made for sanity’s sake. A well trained mind didn’t believe in magic, he thought.  Had he thrown love out as magic he wondered.  The choice had haunted him all of these years and he had come here for inner peace and instead he had touched the root of his turmoil and dissatisfaction.

“Shall we guard her?” his head guard asked for the second time.

“Sorry, soldier, just make sure she doesn’t leave but don’t restrict her movements,” the King instructed. 

Leah hurried to her apartments thinking about what she could possibly do about this trouble.  Her first concern was the safety of her son. She must implement the plans she made for his safety and for this she could only trust her own people, her parent’s people and their people.  They would protect Amorian at all costs, he was clan, and he was theirs.  She called her Aunt Nisci and Uncle Yurok from their cottage and told them they must leave for the main body of the clan and take young Amorian with them.  There are people threatening to steal him.  Since this was a threat they well understood they accepted her explanation readily and set out that night with Amorian as their nephew going to his betrothal.  The wagon they took was actually their old wagon and was useful for their departure as poor itinerants.       

The next day she supervised the King’s activities personally and after a breakfast of cooked grain, fruit, and yogurt they set out for a medium length hike and were back at the resort in time for a late lunch of fish and vegetables and Leah sent one of the masseuses to him and worked in her garden before dinner. 

He found her in the garden, “Leah, are you avoiding me?” he asked.

“King Amorian, I spent the whole morning with you and I will be with you for dinner.”

“I see, well thank you Leah, I will see you for dinner.”

That night on a private terrace with a view of the valley they ate their dinner, she in the white flowing gown she wore in the evening with guests and he in the simple garment of the old Esagilia.  They were served the simple but elegant repast by a small staff and Leah made sure they weren’t alone.  After the supper she called in the stringed instruments that seemed to play the sound of echoes among the rocks.  The king and Leah strolled the terrace to take in the many views with stars dripping from the sky.

“It is beautiful here, Leah, you have done well with your life.”

“Thank you, King Amorian, I have worked hard for what I have.”

“I had hoped you were with child when I left the glade,” he admitted.

“You hoped I carried your child yet you left me there?  A woman you claim to love who was carrying your child?”

His fist struck the terrace wall under his hands, “Leah, you are not being fair,” he objected, “I love you yet.”

She turned to him, eyes bright in the night, “King Amorian, you don’t understand the traditions of ‘the choice’.  Tradition teaches that when you reject one of the choices for another you free the other person from their love but carry the full burden yourself.”

“That is but a legend,” he spat out, “It is nonsense,” he said.

She looked him in the eye, “Is it King Amorian?” and then she turned and left the terrace. 

He sat heavily and took in what she said.  Was he indeed doomed by his own choice, while it had freed her? If she no longer loved him what could he do?  Where was the inner peace the legends spoke about?  Was he to suffer unrequited love for all of his life? 

When he reached his room the king sent for his historians to study the legends of the valley and report back to him.  Perhaps, there was a way around this problem.    

“King Amorian?” one young historian asked, “You can seize the woman and take her back with you,” he suggested not seeing the King’s real dilemma. 

The King nodded a negative response and waved the youngster off while the older historians gathered around the young man and explained the true nature of the problem.  

King Amorian became more besotted with Leah as she hiked with him each day and dined with him each evening. Some afternoons she taught him to meditate and gave him proper eating guidelines for his health.  He was already a man of simple tastes who kept in shape so he learned the lore of the valley and began to love the rock formations, glades, trails, and the bright stars at night.

One night there was a sudden storm and huge blades of lightening illuminated the sky and a warm rain fell as they dined. They both decided to stay out to watch the grandeur and Leah had an umbrella placed over the table to keep them dry.  Her eyes shone like a thousand candles in the excitement of the storm and he wanted to take her into his arms and carry her to his bed as the thunder rolled over them shaking the foundations and bolts of lightning revealed the ghostly rock formations moving in the night like gods.

When she excused herself after dinner he stood on the terrace and then saw her in her white garments running off toward the rocks heedless of the warm rain falling around her.  He dismissed his guards and followed her out among the huge ochre formations.  He caught a glimpse of her occasionally leaping and frolicking among the rock formations like a goddess celebrating with the gods.     

He followed her and began to feel delirium as he had during the forty days and forty night experience when he had first met Leah.  He called out to her and she remained poised on one foot and looked back.

“Go back, King Amorian, I cannot leave this place.”

“Yes, Leah, you will be my Queen,” he answered her, “You will have everything you ever wanted,” he promised.

She told him, “Removed from this place I will wither and die like an autumn leaf in the fall.”

“No,” he said getting closer, “You will not die.”

“King Amorian, I tell you the truth, if you take me from this place you will surely watch me die within the month.”

King Amorian stood in the storm, wet and feeling a fool until he exploded in rage.  He grabbed her shoulder and the next day they all set out for Esagilia.  The King’s future Queen bound to the saddle of a fiery mare shying next to the king’s stallion her bridle in the King’s hands.   “This King will have what this King wants,” Amorian roared in anger.     

But Leah, true to legend and her own words began to fail as they drew further away from the ochre gods and the King began to fear her words were true.  Stubbornly he kept them moving closer to Esagilia and his court doctors.  As she lay on her death bed in Esagilia he began to relent and beg her forgiveness but she spit in his face and said, “King, again today, by your own choice, you lost your wife and our son forever.”  She didn’t regained consciousness and the suddenly old King Amorian never knew his own son - or how to love.   

Fare well and flourish, my friends.

October 2013 Karen MacEanruig

BOOK I: The Reign of Good King Amorian: A Myth

    
 Amorian went out into the warm, sunny afternoon enjoying the  walk through Esagila’s impressive city square with its neatly shaped geometric structures built with cut stone in colors from deep ochre through shades of brown and easing to soft golden hues.  The square was covered with paving stones and the roof tops all supported green gardens.  He crossed the square to the park and then walked passed beds of brightly blooming flowers to a residential area of one story homes made out of the same colored stone as the buildings on the square and arranged around inner courtyards with rooftop gardens and skylights.

Muscular and handsome in the traditional male dress of the Esagilian culture; loose fitting pull on trousers and one piece pull over shirts of unbleached cotton cloth, he caught the eye of many young girls who prodded their parents to arrange a marriage.  The women wore long slender gowns of the same material and though it was frowned on many men and women adorned their attire with intricate needlework.  Too much vanity was distained in the Esagilian culture as were high buildings or anything thought to do with pride.  The culture had gone through the Darkness because of too much pride. 

Amorian stepped into the atrium of his childhood home hoping his little brother was there tonight. He could smell the weekly Observance Day Eve dinner being prepared and smiled with pleasure.  His mother was a very proper woman and fulfilled all of her duties as determined by the Officiate.    

“Mother,” Amorian said and kissed her on the cheek.

“Amorian, I’m happy to see you,” she said and poured him a glass of nectar.”

 “Where is Benjamin, mother?  School was over two hours ago.”

She looked flustered, “He has been a bit withdrawn since your father’s death,” she said, “When I ask him who he has been with, Benjamin says he was alone, walking in the park.”

“How are his grades mother?”

She sat down at the table with Amorian and said, “I’m afraid his grades are slipping too,” she said, placing her hand on his. 

“We must do something before he ruins his life,” Amorian said. 

Benjamin’s mother said, “You must speak to him in his father’s place,” she said, “Handing Amorian the key to their home.”

“Are you sure it is time for this, Mother?” he asked.

“He is drawing attention to himself at school,” Amorian’s mother said, “And not for his good work,” she added.  “Benjamin needs a father’s hand now and you are our head of household.”

“I will speak to him mother,” Amorian said and went to his father’s office to think about what he should say to his little brother.  The office was a Spartan room with neatly arranged books and a desk opening on to the inner courtyard.  Amorian knew that their legacy as Officiates was limiting but it was an inherited office of great prestige and they didn’t have a choice.  

Amorian thought about his little brother who had been drawing buildings since he was a small boy.  Beautiful buildings but Amorian often wondered if they were too vain; large, tall and pretentious. And so very beautiful with fountains and inner courts decorated with symbols and plants.  Against teaching, he wondered?

This time he would appeal to his brother’s good sense and if the trouble continued he would have to place strictures on Benjamin’s behavior. He loved his brother as did his mother and Benjamin was important to them. 

Amorian and his mother went ahead with dinner without Benjamin and Amorian sent a message back to the communal hall where he was receiving training for the first year of the Officiate saying that there was trouble at home and he would be late or absent from tonight’s ceremonies. His mother needed his presence for comfort.    

The next day he went back to the Officiate and spoke with his counselor.  “Sir, my mother is upset, as am I because my little brother is taking my father’s death rather hard and having problems adjusting to life without him,” Amorian said.  I need a short leave to solve the situation now that my mother has turned the household keys over to me,” he said.

“Your mother has turned the household keys over to you?” the Counselor asked.

Amorian showed him the key hanging on a simple chain around his neck, “She may retire to the country if all goes well,” he said.

“Are you aware of your mother’s activities, catechumen?”   

“My mother, what are you talking about?” he asked.

“She has been having an affair with an emissary for years and neglects your brother.”

“What?” Amorian asked.

“We didn’t want to burden you in your first year of studies,” the counselor said, “You do very well and we have high hopes for you.”

“But I am responsible for my family,” he said.

“Now that you are head of household, we of the Officiate offer our full cooperation and responsibility for the problem if you turn your head of household duties over to us.”

“But I must fulfill my duties,” he pleaded.

“Amorian, you are relieved of duty in that small matter because of your value to the Officiate,” the counselor said.

“But counselor, my father fulfilled his duties to me, now I must try with my brother,” Amorian said.

“Sleep on this, Amorian, here is the report on your mother and brother,” the counselor said.   

The next day Amorian walked home again and asked his mother, “Is it true about Thesus?”

She bowed her head, “It has been true about Thesus since I was a young girl,” she admitted. 

“And what did my father think?” Amorian asked. 

“We had an arranged marriage and we had both already given our hearts,” his mother said, “Benjamin realized more than you saw,” she conceded.

“And all three of you lived a life beyond my ken?” Amorian stated.

“You’ve always been so absorbed by your duties, son, people don’t interest you as much as the teachings.”

Startled he rose from his chair, “Mother, you speak as a questioner.”

“Amorian, I speak as a woman past her prime who has managed to fulfilled her duty and live her personal dreams as did your father. Your father and I made sure you were well brought up and given the traditions and the teachings.”

“Mother, I am astonished!” he said.

“Benjamin came into the room from his wanderings, “Brother, welcome to the party.  Better late than never,” Benjamin said.

Amorian remained standing, “I cannot believe this utter disregard for the traditions and teachings in my own home,” he said.   

“It is more common than you think, Amorian, many people make these adjustments to the life,” she said, not realizing that Amorian was as naive as all of that at his age.

Amorian left his house and quickly stalked back to the communal hall to think out this astonishing development.  His family had parted ways with the teachings and maybe even his father was a non-believer.  That alone cast doubt on the purity of his own lineage and dedication to the Officiate.

He found a message from his Counselor when he reached his lodgings in the communal hall and he immediately went to the counselor’s office and found him there with a magistrate. 

“Amorian?” the Counselor asked, “Are you now ready to default your duties to the Officiate as a better qualified judiciary?”

“I can’t see any other choice, Counselor.  They don’t even deny their guilt,” he said.

The magistrate took out the proper papers and the counselor signed and handed them to Amorian. 

Amorian read the papers and despite his misgivings signed them immediately.  His birth family clearly questioned the teachings, now he must become a child of the state to retain his own lineage and purity.

“May they, farewell,” Amorian said as he signed with a flourish.

“Do you need time off?” the counselor asked.

“I wish to complete my forty days of solitary time as scheduled,” Amorian said, “I need the cleansing now, more than ever.”

“If you ever become confused about the issues, please come to me immediately,” the counselor said.

“I’m afraid the family is confused, Counselor, not me,” he said, and then asked for permission to meditate.

“Of course, my son,” the Counselor said.

It was late in the year 199 following the escape from Darkness into the Restoration of Order and Rebirth of Life. Soon Amorian would ‘walk the path’ with his fellow catechumen and live a solitary life for forty days and nights to cleanse himself for service to the Order of Life just as his father did before him. 

When he returned from his solitary time at the end of forty days and nights it would be time for the annual festival but this time they were celebrating the 200^th year of the Restoration.  It would be a joyful time and the town had already begun to liven as the festival approached, soon every room in the small city-state would be filled with the country folk who were part of this city-state by their lineage and supplied the town with produce, grains, eggs and milk products.  Many country women and city women would cook special dishes to sell in the streets giving ten percent to those in need or to the Officiates for the communal halls of the poor. 

The city was without crime and no one need fear as long as their city-state continued to adhere to the Restoration of Order.  The others who could not seem to restrain themselves from interfering with the orderly population were escorted into exile by the Enforcement Officiates while the poor were fed and sheltered and their children given a rudimentary education for service to the community as clerks and maintenance personnel, so none were denied the right to move from the poor into the service community and eventually afford shelters of their own. Some of the poor worked in the country during the fall harvest to supply their basic personal needs and population was strictly controlled so that all ate and had the minimum necessities as well as the state sponsored gardens, training, and health care. 

Amorian remained alone that evening remembering happier days when he was a young boy with his family and new baby brother.  He always thought that they were a typical Esagilian family living according to the light of the rebirth.  Were aberrants as common as his mother implied?  Enough he told himself, they have fashioned their own destiny and now I must return to my destiny.  They would probably be sent into exile with their share of the estate and it was hoped that they would fare well in the chaos of life away from the light of rebirth. They had deserted the light, the light had not deserted them and he could not change facts to suit himself.

The next morning Amorian rejoined his fellow catechumen to prepare for the solitary time.  He worked hard and his scholarship was evident and now it was time for the forty days and nights to test his temperament for the work of an Officiate.  His character must be as pure as his mind. 

The great day finally dawned and the catechumen, carrying knapsacks walked together from the Communal Hall in the Square to the edge of town quietly observed by the solemn population of the city-state.  They slipped from town just as the sun rose above the mountains and bathed the city-state in its warmth and light.

Amorian’s stride lengthened as they left the city and walked through the countryside enjoying the neatly plowed fields and cozy little wooden homes that the farmers lived in.  It was a good illustration of continuity under the practices of the Restoration.  The farmer’s father and his father before him and soon his sons would operate the farm and be producers for the city-state.  The beauty and orderliness of the farms reflected the orderliness of the system.  All would fare well and flourish. 

Soon there were fewer farms and they stopped for their second night, each spaced away from the other and on their own. Amorian enjoyed the quiet of the night and thought he began to hear a little scurrying in the night as he lay rolled up in his blanket looking at the stars.  His food should be gone at the same time they hit real wilderness if he had reckoned correctly.  He felt well and at peace in the quiet of the night.  When Amorian came to the wilderness he left his knapsack in a tree and continued to walk for another full day to distance himself even more from his fellow catechumen.  He wanted to make this a real test to give himself courage for trying times and cleanse himself of worry about his roots now that he knew the truth.

The mountains here were huge and roughly shaped; unsoften by erosion, the lines sharp and distinct while the colors were harsh and unrelenting as the sun was unforgiving during the day and the cold and dark were at night. He could not find a soft place to rest so he took a rock for a pillow and tossed and turned on the rocky ground shivering as the wind came up and increased his discomfort.  He could hear the wind wailing through the canyons as the sound of many voices raised in sorrow. He slept very little and wished for food and water in the morning when the sun brought blinding light and heat. 

He wandered the first day seeking a better place to sleep and found nothing soft or comfortable in the wilderness and his night was again accompanied by the wailing of the voices of sorrow.  He began to think of his own, now lost childhood and he began to feel the sorrow of all of the voices.  He caught himself softly wailing with the voices as he sat on the hard ground hugging his knees.  He wept over his father’s death and wonder where he was now but mostly he felt the wretchedness of the voices and his own and their sorrow. 

The next night he began to think of his own future when the voices began to wail.  Would he ever marry and have children?  Somehow his life seemed spread out before him empty and featureless.  His unrestrained sorrow could be heard among the wailing voices that night as he lay weeping.  Had his mother and father given their hearts?  Would his mother’s life have been empty and featureless without Thesus?  He missed his mother and brother and wondered at his mother’s observation that he had more understanding of the teachings than he did care for the people.  Now he understood sorrow from the voices in the wilderness and the cries inside of himself.   

The next morning he rose with new determination.  His feelings would right themselves as soon as he returned to his real life.  The sorrow didn’t really exist it was his own inner reflection and his sadness and guilt about his mother and Benjamin but he had taken the only course open to him.  There would be no voices tonight because he knew they were distortions caused by his hunger and lack of sleep.

And true to his analysis the voices of sorrow didn’t call out to him the next night but instead the voices of young, merry women sang to beguile him. The happy voices called out for him leave his path and dally with them.  He woke or came back to reality when he stumbled into a ravine and fell.  He was covered with scratches and bruises.  Was he fleeing something or pursuing something.  His mind couldn’t make sense out of it and he tried to concentrate on what he learned about dehydration and hunger.  He was delirious and could no longer think from one point to the next as he had learned in his classes. 

He wander the ravine and heard a delightful sound in the distance, the sound of a waterfall and he followed the sound and saw green and shade ahead of him.  As he drew near the soft, green, oasis he saw a maiden with long hair sitting on a rock beside the pool at the bottom of the falls. She stood and went to a basket for a cloth to spread on the soft grass in the glade and set out food, taking a cool bottle of nectar from the pool. She was humming softly to herself as he drew near.

He moved closer and felt himself react physically to the young woman.  She was beautiful with alabaster skin and hair as gold as the most golden stone while her eyes reflected the deep-blue green of the pool. He watched breathless as she removed her clothing and moved slowly into the pool, splashing playfully and singing colorful glass notes that stayed in the air around her like jewels.  

Before Amorian could make up his mind his body was striding passed the food and nectar and he stood in the glade beside the pool with the lovely maiden.  She looked up and smiled at him, raising her hand toward him from the pool.  

Unnerved he asked, “Who are you?”

“I am Leah,” she said, “Welcome Amorian, sit, eat,” she spread her arm out to the picnic.

“How do you know my name?” he asked. 

“I came to meet you, Amorian, we are destined,” she said.

He tried to pull himself away and it was like fighting gravity over an open chasm. 

She threw her shift on and sat to pour him a glass of nectar and reached up to hand it to him. Their eyes locked and slowly Amorian reached down and took the nectar then dropped to the ground to sit beside her. He reached out to touch her hair and it was real, she was real. He sipped the nectar and it was a delicate, frothy peach and he knew it would be the taste of her skin.

He looked up and then around to see if this was the stuff of theatre.  His eye could detect no flaw, it was real enough.  He took the plate she handed him and asked, “Where are you from Leah?”  

“From here now,” she said, “Before this I was from another place.”

“Which city-state?” he asked.

“Oh,” she was amused, “Not from a city-state at all.  From a country,” she replied, “Very far away,” she added.

  Amorian tensed, “What is it that amuses you?” he asked.

“I am not amused with you, Amorian, I am a bit tongue tied because if I used every word in my vocabulary I would never be able to explain where I am from to you.  But I can tell you that I am here as a test; to make a choice, just as you are.”

She looked down and he heard the voices of sorrow to the depths of his soul.  He reached out to her and she leaned in against his chest folded into the protection of his strong arms.  They made love that day in the glade and when he woke Amorian was back in the ravine with cuts and scratches listening to the voices of sorrow wail in the night.  Leah he moaned in the dark seeing emptiness stretched out before him, bleak, cold, emptiness.

  He woke shivering and back in his own mind before wailing voices and beautiful maidens with food and drink began to fill his thoughts. Crazy dreams.  He would start back home tomorrow and forget it as all catechumen probably do. Yet that night he lay in the dark moaning her name to the moon and stars. 

When he reached the spot the next day where he must choose for home or the glade his mind hardened and he choose home and order over delirium and delusion.  He reached the outskirts of Esagilia on the forty first day and was startled, he had forgotten the festival.  Everyone one was shouting that the Officiate had fallen and he was assured by all he spoke to that it was true, the Officiate had fallen.  He wound his way through the crowded streets to his home where he bathed and slept in the softness of his own room. Yet he heard the voices of sorrow, even here in Esagilia, his city-state.  Hearing the sounds of festival he dressed to walk to the square and the center of the celebration but the going was too crowded and he stopped and bought food at a booth and sat on a bench eating. 

He was thirsty and looked for a nectar stand and that was when he saw her.  He waited behind three others and finally she reached out to hand him a glass of nectar.  Their eyes met but hers veered off in non-recognition and he decided that this time he was the one who would have to explain who he was and how he knew her name.  He sipped the frothy peach nectar and watched her until dawn gathering all of the information that he could about her and then, when the streets were less crowded, he made his way to the Officiate.

When he reached the building all was heedless activity with no plan, no goal, and no leader.  Slowly with much time and effort he took command of the situation and announced that as the only returning Catechumen he was the rebirth embodied and therefore, their first King. Thus began the reign of King Amorian and his long search to find Leah his Queen and mother of his heir. He was a good leader much loved by his people and noted for his wisdom but at night he listen to the voices of sorrow and waited for his Leah.

“Fare well and flourish,” Karen MacEanruig, September 2013