Hesperides Estate
“Just a mile or so beyond the narrow bridge…”
[:: We are in a long and satisfying chapter of astonishing details telling how Eleusis utterly overwhelmed the would-be Conqueror’s soul.
.. Right now, in the previous episode, King Phillipus was in prayer beside the road and swore to forsake his manly pride to follow whatever Goddess is leading him. But honestly, we did not expect much.
.. This episode goes on to set an interesting scene where the King will stumble, when required to swear the Eleusis Beggars’ Oath in the manifested presence of the people’s Goddess. ::]
[:: Hesperides explained.. {Here} ::]
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Just a mile or so beyond the narrow bridge there stood the noble house of the Agrai Temple’s ruling family. A large parcel here on this side of the stream was their estate, handed on and on to each of that temple’s ruling couples for the last few hundred years.
Here each year’s crop of new holy beggars must come into the high walled courtyard for the revelation of the opened basket and the oath.
Diotoma and her husband and their staff had everyÂthing in perfect order here. Of course. Around their house an olive orchard stretched at great extent with brooks and paths about and meadow pastures dotted in. In these pleasant fields thirty thousand people once a year could rest and even bathe if they wished, and certainly drink deep of the sacred beer and sing and dance for two hours or so of leisure. It served to get their spirits up again. Small shrines of various sorts stood at spots where folk of earlier times had felt a call to build them. Here the Stage Performers Guild each year put on an ancient pantoÂmime of the ritual’s sacred story, clergy led fervent prayers and harper poets strolled about. All of the regular stock were safely shut in barns or herded off to neighbors’ farms.
And by the house, near the high walled courtyard’s entry door, a smaller place was perfectly prepared as well. This space was cleared of all a country mansion’s usual bales and heaps and broken vehicles and lumber, making ample space for that year’s hundred-odd new vagabonds to wait their turns to make the oath. Benches were arranged to let them contemplate the Universe at ease. There was a long stand of water jars equipped with taps and towels hung on pegs, the gravel ground around it nicely drained. A path with nicely lettered signs led to a proper jakes.
Beside the courtyard door the cart stood waiting like a ship come in to dock, its holy statues gazing beatifically upon this place of blessed prayer and rest. Beside the cart a little stage was built, its railing hung with swags of barley straw and floral decorations like the cart; there the Master of the Agrai Temple briefly stood to instruct them in the clear and reassuring tones of his paternal pride, a speech his father-in-law perfected some years back, repeated several times as they came straggling in. Repeated without the slightest hint, the Master proudly thought, of this year’s turmoil.
Female servants of the house went about this quiet shady yard pouring herbal barley beer from pitchers and handing out free souvenir cups to those who had not brought their own; it was the custom that these simple small round clayware cups, each decorated in one of five roughly painted standard little holy motifs, would be held among a family’s heirloom treasures, bundled with the shirt, and gifted to a worthy child.
And back through an arbor was a lovely garden spot where volunteer prophets and prophetesses sat at little tables with incense burning, equipped with little baskets of colored pebbles and the like, advising any of the vagabonds who might require a consultation on this lucky afternoon.
This lovely garden was surely one of the finest places any city’s people ever made. But then inside the high courtyard walls; there the people of Elfesis Hill held power.
The entry door would open and an eager or reluctant vagabond be beckoned in; or, if lame, carried in the door by men from the pulling crew. (In recent years Eldress Eurycleia with her fabled memory ruled in this; she knew exactly at a glance who had been and who had not.) The door was shut behind them. A white curtain then was lifted back and there stood the boy priest king with his ancient face, clad now in a glowing saffron yellow robe, beside an altar. There on this altar lay the Basket of the Sacred Pregnancy lain down to be a cornucopia, its folds of crimson linen very carefully spilled out with each of its sacred bits of this and that lain on the fluffy folds.
So came each holy tramp to be a priest or priestess for the fleeting moments which it took to lift each item in their hands, all instructed by a priestess (this they took in turns) who stood beside them, she speaking one key phrase about each sacred thing as each was lifted, each examined, each returned to where it lay before. All of this was meant to be Our Mother giving birth to all things in this world but all the words and gestures were quite brief; in the main each person must be trusted to behold the splendor as Divinity might show them in their heart, both now and later in their dreams.
When that was done (and it was quickly done) the aspirant was turned about and another curtain raised. They were guided through (or carried) round about a labyrinthine little path adding up to seven chambers of hanging draperies suspended from invisible poles and ropes, each chamber of a succeeding rainbow hue in keeping with Musical Electric Force harmonics, open to the sky above, until at last the purple cloth was lifted back and so they stood before the Lady who sat there enthroned between the spreading viney branches of an ancient apple tree, still fully leafed in green here in this sheltered spot. Of course all dying autumn leaves were snipped away the day before.
Here in this very private booth so far from the worldly entrance, with this goddess and this green ancient wizened bony tree and a tall ivy covered wall behind, the enclosing draperies here midnight black, here the oath was done. This was a drama in itself of course. The curtain fell behind; the priest who was guiding them would quickly speak the oath beside their ear, enunciating very clearly. It was no more than just a brief simple list of basic things they should have done to reach this point, ending with the question; “Have you done all this?”
Then the Basket Priestess would fix her eyes in theirs and speak; “Do you swear that you have done what is required?” More or less a hundred times she’d speak these words.
Sixteen different categories of their answers had been taught to her, each being a different mix of humility and firm resolve and anger and guilt, each sort of answer with the way she should reply so they might gain some understanding that they lacked. She must coach the individual if required, or usually just make a certain silent blessing gesture or a certain formula of words. There were just three of these sixteen sorts of answer which required the individual’s ejection from the march and they were merely theoretical, you’d almost say; no aspirant in living memory had been rejected at this point. In really questionable cases her reply, which she must speak with utmost genuine sincerity, was; “May Our Mother (or Sister or Brother) guide you to your proper goal.”
But still, it was a demanding task to instantly catalog each person’s state of being by their aura and body stance and tone of voice and words into the one paragraph of her memorized instruction sheet where they best belonged, then turn that tap to let the best response flow out. And even then it was not over; she should observe the impact of her words and gestures and strive to learn from the experience. This was her duty.
Of course she’d ordered special treatment for Phillipus.
[:: Following this episode, more exciting details will emerge, in this long chapter, telling how Eleusis overwhelmed utterly the would-be Conqueror’s soul. ::]
{- End Of “Hesperides Estate” -}
{-Creds.. This is from my book.. “Dark Of Light”
.. .. Its overview page .. {-Here-} -}
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