Behind the Ivory Veil
23 Down from the Mountain
Thursday, 18 August 1955, City of the Gods
DOC AND MARGARET ran up the avenue toward the rostrum. Pol moved more cautiously forward at a distance. Rebecca stood to meet them and began pulling her clothes on. Wesley blushed and scrambled into his own tattered clothing.
“Rebecca!” said Margaret. “How did you ever…?”
“Wesley, are you all right?” Doc overlapped in the excitement.
“Did you see them?” Wesley ignored the questions, he was so caught up in the experience. “The pillars arrived just before the sunrise. Did you see them coming?” Doc looked around at the pillars showing a complete lack of understanding.
“Wesley, you’re disoriented,” he said, taking in his torn clothing. “You must have had quite a night. Here, drink this.” Doc held a flask against Wesley’s lips and dosed him with pitchy Greek wine. Wesley spluttered helplessly as Doc repeated the dose with Rebecca. She coughed.
“That is not coffee!” she choked. She pushed away the flask away and turned to gather her tools. Her cup, Athamé, and staff lay nearby. She still clutched the star stone in her healed hand. She put the knife in her sleeve sheath and carried the cup and staff in one hand.
“Rebecca, how did you get here? Are you all right?” Margaret rushed to her young friend and pushed Doc aside. The older archaeologist took a healthy drink from the flask and nearly choked himself.
“Yes,” Rebecca said.
“Isn’t it wonderful that my wife arrived in time to celebrate the new moon with me?” Wesley said. He rushed to Rebecca and swung her around. She giggled at him and kissed her lover. “We might be a little shaky from lack of food, but we’re fine. Marcos Paris-whatever-it-is brought me. We got separated last night when Ryan McGuire attacked me in the dark.”
“McGuire is here?” Doc demanded. “He attacked our camp a few days ago. We weren’t there, but he stole most of Wesley’s notes.”
“I don’t know where he is, nor where Marcos is. I assume he walked to your camp as soon as it got light. I’ve no idea what happened to McGuire. I wandered around in the dark until I ended up here and found Wesley.” She looked at her husband’s torn clothes. “Um… We had a reunion.”
“Oh, my, yes,” Wesley agreed. Rebecca wasn’t sure how much he would remember about how she greeted him with hands, feet, teeth, and nails. Her eye was caught by the youth who stood several feet away looking at her. She stepped off the dais and walked toward Pol. “It’s true, you know,” Wesley continued. “The pillars arrive and take their positions just before sunrise. And the symbols on the platform shift through multiple dimensions.”
Doc looked again at the pillars and then at Wesley. He took another pull from the flask. This time, Margaret nudged him and took a sip herself.
Rebecca stopped in the avenue facing Pol and the two stared at each other a long moment. Slowly, Rebecca held out her hand with the star stone lying in her open palm.
“The key,” Pol whispered. He reached out a tentative hand and touched the stone with his finger. “They are gone. The City is empty. The goddess is free.” Rebecca stepped a bit closer and moved Pol’s hand to touch her stomach.
“She is free.”
A low rumbling filled the air and everyone’s attention was drawn to the West. The sky was dark with thick clouds. The night appeared reluctant to retreat from the sacred city. The entire summer investigating the City, the team had never seen a cloud in the sky. Now, a storm raged with the daylight in a war for dominance.
Lightning split the sky a few hundred feet away, striking one of the massive pillars. The five people watched in awestruck fascination as the mammoth pillar crumbled at its base and came crashing to the ground. The earth shook under the impact of the fallen pillar. Doc went into action belying the amount of wine he had just consumed. He looped their guide rope around Wesley and each took hold of the rope.
“Pol! Get us out of here. We’ll all be killed!”
Pol looked frantically around as if unable to gain his bearings. Margaret made sure Rebecca had hold of the rope in front of her. Pol stood frozen in place.
“I don’t know where. It’s all fogged over,” Pol said. Rebecca moved to his side and put her arm around the frightened boy. In her other hand she held out the jewel.
“We can find the way,” she said softly. The sound of another crashing pillar punctuated her words. Doc, Margaret, and Wesley linked into the chain and the five started down the avenue as the storm raged in the sky above. In seconds, they were encased in fog and pelted with rain. Lightning continued to flash and the sound of falling pillars surrounded them.
Directly in front of Rebecca and Pol, a path appeared and they led the others forward. Ghosts stepped from the blindness to haunt them as they fought their way down the mountain against a wind that would hold them back. Voices screeched out of the fog.
“Back, hag! Back to your fires!” yelled Wesley from the end of the line. His voice rang out in a song that enveloped the travelers and created a bubble of security around them. Encouraged, Pol’s voice rang out in harmony. The star stone held in Rebecca’s hand cut a path for them to follow and they plunged down the slope.
When one fell, all were taken along, rolling and sliding until they came to a halt on the flat sun-drenched plateau where the old olive tree marked their camp. Marcos rushed to meet them and helped the struggling group to their feet.
“I was afraid that I would not find you at all,” he exclaimed. “Is anyone injured? You are wet! Come to the fire.”
“Papa!” Pol ran to his father and threw his arms around his neck. “It’s all gone! The pillars are falling. The gates are closed.”
“It’s happened?” Marcos asked his sobbing son. “Don’t be sad, son. It was never meant to last forever.”
“I don’t understand.”
“But my dear son, you still believe.” Pol looked up at his father. Tears still sparkled in his eyes, but he nodded. “We must attend our friends. One day it will become clear and you will understand.”
Margaret took over comforting the distraught boy and Wesley held his wife in his arms as they looked out at the swift-running stream. Marcos and Doc set about preparing as much food as they could eat. After a few minutes, the crew set about striking their camp and packing everything for the journey back to the Jeep. They would not stay longer on the mountain. Wesley and Pol took the water buckets and dipped them in the current, then doused the fire. They covered the firepit and doused it again.
Then they carted all their supplies down the hillside to the waiting vehicle.
Thursday 18 August 1955, Kastraki, Greece
Dinner was lively when the explorers returned to the little cluster of cottages. As soon as they arrived, Pol spotted his mother and ran to her arms. She had been too worried to stay in Athens and had taken the train to Trikala and hired a ride from there. She showed that she was made of as sturdy and devoted stock as any of the family when she had walked into the courtyard earlier in the day.
“My husband and my son were here and possibly in danger,” Helen declared. “Greek women do not sit at home quietly waiting for word about their brave men.” She turned and smiled warmly at Rebecca. “Especially when they have strong women who set an example.” The two women hugged.
“I’m so glad everyone is back in one piece.”
“It was a near thing,” Marcos said. “I fought a demon on the mountain.”
“What? Marcos!”
“Rebecca went to the stream to refresh herself while I set up camp. I am afraid that I’d wandered around and did not find the path. When we met the man with the burned hand, we detoured, planning to go over the Mouth of Vengeance. We connected farther upstream and decided not to risk a crossing until morning. As I set up the camp, I heard Rebecca scream. She seemed much farther away than I thought she would be and I rushed to aid her. I called for you, Rebecca. I heard you answer once, but then I was attacked.”
“I did answer, but fell into the water and came up on the other side of the stream,” Rebecca confirmed.
“The demon struck me from behind. It kicked me. It pushed me. But every time I swung at it, it was just air. A demon that sprang from the night and I could not see it.”
“Ryan McGuire is reputed to be an excellent fighter,” Doc grumbled.
“I think this was no man. It sprang from the night, striking me. I could not see it, but it could see me, continuing to dart in and out as it punched me. Its eyes blazed like coals. I saw a blade rise to smite me and fell backward into the rocks. I was knocked out. When I awoke… I don’t remember having moved… I was in the Jeep and the sun was rising.”
“You had no difficulty finding the camp this morning, though?” Doc asked. “No further encounters with McGuire?”
“No. The way was clear and easy. I am so sorry, Rebecca. I did not mean to desert you, but I could not find you. Then when I neared the camp this morning, I found your shoes beside the stream and was sure you had been swept into the Mouth of Vengeance. I was horrified. Thank God you are all safe,” Marcos whispered as a prayer.
“Marcos, my son,” Andrew spoke at last, “You have needed to face your demons for many years. Last night you purged yourself.”
“But I was not victorious,” his son sighed.
“We learned in the great war that victory does not always mean defeating the enemy. Sometimes, it simply means surviving.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
Helen put her arm around her husband’s shoulders and kissed his cheek. “You brought our son back safely. You are my hero.”
“I’m surprised we didn’t hear any of this,” Doc said. “You must have stumbled right through our camp, Rebecca.”
“With the noises of the night, it is no wonder that we did not hear each other,” Margaret said. “I do not know if they were real or waking nightmares, but it is no stretch for me to believe Marcos fought a demon. There were wails in the darkness that would chill the blood. The three of us huddled together under a single blanket all night long.”
“I am sorry about the condition of the City when we left, though I don’t believe it was anything that we did. Still, I am more than content to let it wash into my memory and not return. I’m glad we have returned, even if a few days early.”
“And did you find what you sought?” Andrew asked.
“Yes. And I shall leave it where I found it. Wilton had it right when he wrote a fairytale. It is not the stuff of science.” Doc paused and looked at each of the people around the table.
“I am more worried about Ryan McGuire,” said Rebecca softly. “He’s out there, you know. He will be watching to see if we are carrying a golden idol and will create havoc for us until he is satisfied. He is a dangerous man.”
“It sounds as if you have had additional encounters with him, love,” Wesley said. “He ransacked our camp a few days ago. Has he been harassing you? I will chase him down.” There was a fierce determination in Wesley’s voice that filled Rebecca with pride. “He still has some papers stolen from our library.”
“Do not worry about that, my darling,” Rebecca said. “I have them. He left them in the university library in Edinburgh.”
“Are you telling me he was in Scotland and with the circle all this time while we’ve been looking over our shoulders for him?” Doc exclaimed.
“Until a few days ago. He discovered Wilton’s original notes for ‘The Last Gift’ and maneuvered me into locating them. He left the notes from ICC among them with a letter for me. That was why I had to come to Greece. I believed he’d found you and would work harm.”
“I’ve a feeling you have not told me everything, Becc,” Wesley sighed. “But I have faith in you. Great faith.”
“I will tell you everything, my husband, but it is a conversation we must have alone and not among friends. There are unbelievable things that have happened.”
“You will find me far more capable of believing the unbelievable than I once was.”
Friday, 19 August 1955, Kastraki, Greece
Exhaustion had overwhelmed the explorers and they were all led to beds. Doc and Margaret were invited to stay in Andrew’s home to clear more space for ‘the young ones.’ Wesley and Rebecca were shown to a room in the smallest of the cottages while Marcos and Helen took a house between the smallest and his father’s house. There, the couple held and listened to Pol all night long.
In the morning, after Wesley had demonstrated to Rebecca his skill at making Greek coffee, among other skills, they joined the rising family in the courtyard. Canopies were hung over the courtyard, shading it from the hot August sun. A table was spread with meats, cheeses, bread, and boiled eggs. As people rose, they helped themselves to the food and sat around the courtyard to eat.
“I believe the demons followed us from the mountain,” Doc said casually. “I am sure I heard them howling last night.” Rebecca and Wesley both blushed crimson, but so did Marcos and Helen. Sophia looked around innocently, but there was a bit of color in her face as well. Her husband had left at first light for his job in Kalambaka.
When they had eaten and spent some time organizing their day, Wesley took Rebecca’s hand and led her out through the gate and toward the towering rocks that rose around them.
“I’ve not been on it, but Brother El pointed out a path he said was among the most pleasant in Metéora. It winds among three of the monasteries,” Wesley said. “I want to be alone with my wife for a bit.” They walked half a mile to the trailhead and turned off the narrow road. “Brother El says the monks use this trail as a shortcut down to the village to buy supplies. If their burdens are heavy on the return trip, they take the longer route by road.”
“You’ve changed, Wesley,” Rebecca said as she lay her head on his shoulder while they walked. Wesley had not hesitated to put his arm around his wife, not even looking to see if they were being observed.
“For the better, I hope.”
“You seem stronger and more confident. I would never hesitate to put my trust in you.”
“Marcos talked about battling the demon on the mountain. That night, I had to face my own fears. My own demons. They were all women, you know.”
“Goddesses,” Rebecca whispered. “Wesley, do you know the walking stick Doc carries?”
“He’s never separated from it.”
“It’s a kind of symbol of office in a… coven… of witches.”
“And you with your sturdy walking stick? Is it also a symbol?”
“I joined the coven,” she said. “Ryan McGuire is also a member. Wesley, I’ve committed myself to service to the goddess.” Whatever Rebecca’s expectations might have been, it was not the laughter that ensued from Wesley’s mouth. His whole body shook. Ahead a stone bridge crossed a tiny rivulet and the two sat on it with feet dangling over the edge.
“Becc, my darling,” he finally sighed, “I am a Christian. I have always been a Christian. I don’t recall a time when I even considered that I might not be a Christian. But I met the goddess in the City of the Gods. I met her in all her various terrible and wonderful forms. I tried to convince myself that I was merely hallucinating. Lucid dreaming. But I can’t deny what I saw and felt. I met the triple goddess of the moon. I met the goddess hidden behind the ivory veil. And I awoke in the arms of the goddess of my choice.” Wesley leaned in to kiss his wife and she melted against him.
“Wesley, I love you with all my heart.”
“You committed yourself to service to the goddess,” Wesley said. “Well, so have I. I married her.” Rebecca started to object, but Wesley silenced her with a kiss. “I know… I was not dreaming on the mountain when we made love, Becc. I was not dreaming when I released the goddess behind the ivory veil and placed her in your womb.” His hand slid over Rebecca’s lower abdomen and she was certain that she could already feel the child growing. “I will do all in my power to love and protect both of you until the end of my life. I swear this by the gods and goddesses who have placed this treasure in my hands.”
“So mote it be,” Rebecca whispered. A wind stirred the leaves around them and a bell rang from one of the monasteries far above.
“Now, tell me what binds you to Ryan McGuire,” Wesley whispered. “I’ve a feeling that he is what I must protect you from.” Rebecca pulled the Athamé from her sleeve and held it in her open palm.
“There is a blade between us.”
“I recognize that knife. He tried to cut my fingers with it. And he’s given it to you? How did the hilt get burned?”
Rebecca told Wesley about coming home to find the sacrificial tableau on her bureau and the ritual that ensued. She described how she had grabbed the flaming knife and grounded the power, but had burned her hand in the process. She had then met Ryan in the hospital where he was treated for the same severe burn. Wesley took her hand in his and opened the palm.
“No trace of a burn,” he whispered. “No scar. And this was only a week ago?” Rebecca reached in her pocket for the star stone. It glimmered, black with all the colors leaping within it. Wesley stared at it. “The key to the veil,” he whispered.
“You used it to free the goddess. She used it to heal my hand.”
“Was McGuire healed at the same time?”
“I don’t know.” Rebecca looked at the stone lying in her hand next to the knife. Her staff was next to her and the cup was in her hiking satchel. “What am I going to do with this? I can’t just hold it in my hand forever.”
“Let’s have a ring made. Then you can wear it.”
“I need to dedicate it.”
“How can I help?”
Rebecca was uncertain about including Wesley in a pagan ritual of dedication, but… She had married him. Bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh. He had dedicated himself to serving the goddess within her. He might not be part of the circle of Cobhan Carles, but he was in her circle. In fact, he was her circle. She stood in the middle of the stone bridge with Wesley in front of her and beckoned him to be still while she placed the four tools around them.
“Powers of the four winds, rulers of the four corners of the earth, champions of the four elements,” she intoned as she circled Wesley clockwise while keeping a hand on him. He rotated in place as he followed her. “Attend our ritual. Protect this sacred space. Hold us in your loving care as we consecrate this tool to your service.”
Wesley felt more than saw Rebecca’s wards flare into place. The power surrounding them was palpable. The guardians were in place around them and they were safe. Without speaking further, Rebecca faced her husband and began slowly and deliberately removing her clothes. Wesley smiled slightly and joined her. Soon they were naked and dancing together in a circle on the stone bridge. Wesley sang as they danced together and his voice seemed to strengthen the glowing field around them and the growing rod between them. They spread their clothing beneath them and Wesley lay stretched out with his head near the star stone.
Rebecca straddled him, looking down at her beloved.
“My sacred tools have been gathered. I am Sadb, known as The Hart. Husband of mine, I name you Deliverer for you have delivered to me this last symbol of my power.”
“All that is mine, I deliver into your hands,” Wesley said.
“My darling,” Rebecca whispered. “May the powers of the north, east, south, and west smile on us and bless this last of my sacred tools to your use. I name this pentacles Key, for she holds the key to a great mystery. I dedicate Key to the power of Earth to bring the elements together. For that use to which the goddess would put her, may I be found worthy to wield her. Now and always. So mote it be.”
“Amen,” Wesley intoned. Rebecca sank to her knees and directed his shaft into her wet opening.
“Amen,” she whispered as she sank down on him.
Their lovemaking might not have been as frantic as on the mountain, nor even as passionate as it had been in the cottage the night before, but it was deep and caring and filled with power. Wesley placed his hands on her waist as she rode him and when he pressed his thumbs into her ovaries, she cried out in ecstasy, certain that the goddess within her would not be the only child of their marriage. He thrust up to meet her need and delivered his seed to her.
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