Showing posts with label Lament. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lament. Show all posts

Monday, October 20, 2014

MAMM OF DUNNOTTAR - a bit from the book



I hope you enjoy Mamm and Alaric as much as I've enjoyed the time I've 'spent' with them! They choose their Destiny, knowing it will bring them pain and loss ... and bittersweet triumph ... 


*Stilicho and Alaric are rival 'Getae' (essentially Celt, Stilicho is Vandal and Alaric Visigoth in background) Generals who command vast numbers of the Roman Empire's military.*
...

‘Why do I not believe you, Stilicho?’

‘Would I lie to you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I’m not.
‘Honorius fears you and trusts me. I am doing my job. Disturbing your peace is part of it – the only part I really enjoy, come to think of it.
‘Also remember this, Alaric. I might work for Honorius but I serve the Mother. In my own way.
‘Honorius is afraid you might go to work for Arcadius. Let’s make his nightmare a reality.
‘Take Greece, Alaric. They love you there. Arcadius will take it as a sign of your military prowess and put Illyria into your hands, and his armories. He will think to use you against me and Honorius.
‘For brothers, those two sure don’t get along very well, do they? Though Rufinus plays Arcadius with a puppet’s strings and Honorius depends on me and others . . . still, if those two brothers ever took it into their heads to be brother to one another . . . but they do not and they will not.’

‘No, they don’t and they won’t – and thank the Mother for that. Between the two of them they’ll bring the empire down even without our help.
‘Okay then. Greece it is for me and mine. You go on and tend to the seeds you’ve planted, Stilicho – and stay out of Greece for a while.’

He looks over to Mamm, remembering.

‘Innocent bystanders might get hurt if we meet in public, and my wife might get mad.’

Stilicho gives Mamm a long look, also remembering.

‘Indeed.’

And so into Greece they go and they take it by storm.

There are a few places where they have to do a little fighting but . . . well . . . after the Frigidus there’s not much of anything that’s going to intimidate these Warriors and it shows.

Something about them . . . the way they ride, their walk, their eyes, their posture . . . whatever it is, they unconsciously present themselves as someone you don’t want to tangle with. Nobody wants to take them on.

Besides, Stilicho is right: Greece does love Alaric. He could tromp them at will but chooses not to, and they love him for it.

When entering a city or town, he brandishes his sword and shouts:
‘Here is the sword of Alaric! Her name is Kindness and with her will I smite you!’

Roars of cheers meet these words and the people of Greece fall before him.

When they stop to camp along the way one evening, Mamm looks at Alaric. Half in jest and half serious, she asks him a question.

‘Am I crazy or is it the Greeks? I thought this was supposed to be an invasion.’

‘Well it is, Mamm.’

‘Alaric.’

‘What?’

‘This is not an invasion.’

‘Sure it is.’

‘How can you call it an invasion? We should leave these people alone, Alaric. They’re all soft in the head. We can’t just keep on taking their stuff – it isn’t right.’

‘Who are we to say what’s right and what’s wrong? If they want to give us their stuff I say take it, tell them thank you, and go on our way.’

‘Alaric!’

‘Well what am I supposed to do, Mamm? Give it all back and turn around to go back to Illyria? It would be an insult to every self-respecting Greek in the land. I’m supposed to be conquering Greece here, am I not? Can I help it if they like us and want to give us stuff? No, I cannot.’

‘Do you know what I overheard in the last place we stopped, Alaric? A little old gramma lady come to visit her sister was upset, upset Alaric, that we had skipped by her village!’

Here Mamm squinches her eyes mostly closed, wrinkles up her face as best she can, and waves her arms around as she skreeks out her next words.

‘They skipped us, sister! Just breezed on by like we didn’t exist! I tell you, we were some disappointed. All of us wanted to set eyes on that handsome Alaric and that adorable little wife of his, but they passed us right by! When I heard they were here I says to myself, Self, you haven’t seen your sister in a long while, and hurried myself right over here for a visit I did! Just to see you, y’know. Oh and there they were! I almost fainted dead away and me a little old gramma lady already! Did you see them dark blue eyes on that man, sister? Oh my! And his deeeear little wife! I’ve had this tunic ready to give her, just waitin’ for them to come along to sack our village doncha know – and they never came!’

Alaric is laughing but Mamm’s face is serious now.

‘And later she found me, Alaric. She found me and gave me a lovely tunic. A little old gramma lady, Alaric, whose own tunic was far less fine than the one she gave to me.’

‘So. What did you do?’

‘What could I do? I accepted it and gave her a kiss on her forehead in thanks.’

‘Well there you have it, Mamm. We have to conquer Greece. As long as we make it look good and nobody tells on us, we may as well enjoy it.’

‘Shouldn’t we at least maybe feel a little bit guilty?’

‘Nope.’

...

This gives you just a bit of an idea about the relationship these two share.

Truth be told, I had a difficult time writing much of their story. 

I was either laughing or weeping most of the time and some parts I flat out just didn't want to write. 

Still, the Story must be told ... 

Sunday, August 10, 2014

I WEEP, I WEEP

When it gets to the point that I'm seriously upset for no absolutely discernible reason, when even the most valid of personal and family reasons can't account for the Power of ... I don't even know of any words to use that would make sense ... feelings doesn't come close, dread maybe? ... apprehension? ... disturbance in my soul? ... whatever it is, it occasionally hits me so hard that I know I have to see if I can find out what's behind it.

Anyway, as a general rule I try to avoid watching and/or reading the news, because so much of it impacts me so hard that ... well ... carrying on with life as usual gets darned difficult.

Tonight I finally checked, knowing it was going to hurt ... and it does.

It hurts to the marrow of my bones and straight through every cell in me. 

Peace.

Remember what that is, what it means?

How in God's green world am I supposed to reconcile the command for Peace, at least within my own self if no-place else, with the emotions wrought by what's going on out there?

Where now the Peace, when the Warrior wants badly to go to battle?

For quite a long while now an ancient Lament has dominated the songs that run through my mind all the time.

One of my fictional Characters seems to have become fond of saying, 'The wheel goes 'round and 'round ...'

And it seems he's right.

Another cries out, 'Enough! Please let this be enough!'

When will it be enough?

When will we finally cry out, 'Enough!'

Seems to me that we ought to be well past that time.

Seems to me that there ought to be more of us in this world who would that we had Peace than those who would choose otherwise.

Where now our Voices?

I have nothing to speak of in any sense the world at large could understand, my own small Voice being all I've got. On this night I wish it were louder, bigger, stronger ... but, you know, even a small and lonely Voice is heard by the Almighty.

'Enough!' cries the small and lonely Voice in the night.

'Please, please let it be enough!'

Why can't we be done with whatever it is we choose to fight about?

Is there not only One God, the Same God?

Whose is different?

None.

There is ONLY ONE.

To each and all is given the Gift of Choice.

Who can dare to challenge that?

What is there of God in such a challenge?

Nothing.

It isn't up to any of us to presume to choose for another, to question or deny the validity of the path which is given to another to walk. 

Yet we do so presume ... again and again and again ... 

And so the tears rise.

And so the tears course.

And so the tears fall.

Again.

And again.

And yet again.

When will it be enough? 

What are we doing to ourselves?

I want to shout, 'Stop it! Just stop!'

My one small and lonely Voice ... 

Weeping in the night, mourning ... 

Politics, religion, power and control issues, differences of opinion ... people have always and will always be at odds about something or other. Has killing each other ever really worked? Not so's you'd notice.

Really, there's only one thing we all ought to agree on and agree to disagree on the rest of it: Peace. 

It has never happened. It may never happen.

And yet ...

And yet ...

It is not worth wanting, worth working toward, worth praying for each in whatever way best suits?

Ah, I'm sentimental and an idealist. 

Also a bit over-tired at the moment. 

It feels as though the entirety of the world weeps, and me along with it. Why cannot everyone just stop it and let others be as they are Called to be without making a huge issue of it - and let those of us who feel the world's pain have a bit of a rest? 

No rest for the weary I reckon.

Which kinda sucks at times.

Yeah, the Warrior wants a fight. 

But no ... Spiral trumps Sword ... and the Song trumps Spear ... and the wheel goes 'round and 'round ... 

And I weep.

I weep.

The Lament rides my heart and it has cruel spurs and a relentless whip.

Into my hands goes my face and I weep with the pain of our world.