Read Online Isolde: Queen of the Western Isle by Rosalind Miles - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rosalind Miles
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fought like a cur, biting and kicking till he had no more strength, and still the old holy man held him lovingly in his arms.
"My name is Jerome," he had said gently. "We shall call you Dominian, for your first task is to achieve dominion over yourself. And then perhaps over others in the name of the Lord." The old man had reverently made the sign of the cross on his forehead, and at his touch, Dominian had grown quiet and fallen still.
Later, old Jerome taught him that his hunchback and his never-ending pain marked him out as one of God's chosen, destined for a special place around His throne. Jesus Himself meant abandoned boys like him when he said, "Suffer little children to come unto me, for of such is the Kingdom of God." From then on, the lost child had become old Jerome's pupil and later the first priest of his church, on fire to build the kingdom of God in this land. And now their community was known in Rome itself as a center for pilgrims and all men of faith.
Dominian reached for Jerome's hand, and brought it to his lips. "Guide me, Father," he said urgently, "for great things are stirring in the kingdom, and I must guide the King. The champion of Ireland is coming to demand the throne, and Merlin has promised us a knight who is nowhere to be seen."
"Ireland," the old man pondered, "where they keep the Old Faith. Where their queens listen to their Druids and they follow the Mother-right. Where we have made little headway." The same thought hung in the air between them both: If the champion wins, we shall be swept into the sea.
"Ireland, yes!" Dominian snorted. "Where even their Christianity is tainted by pagan thought and rotten to the core. We must root them out and impose the rule of Rome."
The old man raised his head. "In my Father's house," he said gently, "there are many mansions. These are the words of the Lord."
Dominian shook his head. "The faith of the Celts," he said with heavy emphasis, "is too close to the old power of women and the rule of queens." He gave a mirthless laugh. "Not a man among them can dictate to a woman, or expect her to follow God's law. They are all daughters of Eve, born to sin."
The old man inclined his head. "Yet Our Lord was born of woman."
"Yes indeed." Suddenly Dominian had an overwhelming urge to be gone. He struggled to his feet. "Farewell, Father."
He stooped for the old man's blessing, placed a kiss on the wrinkled forehead, and came out into the light, beckoning to the young monk waiting patiently there.
"Hurry, hurry," he snapped irritably, striking off down the path. "Yes, Father." Simeon knew better than to take offense. Doggedly Dominian led the way through the wood, making for the high road to Castle Dore, immersed in his own thoughts. "Could he be one of us?" he burst out.
"Sir?" Simeon was used to questions such as this, "if this knight Merlin promised us comes," Dominian brooded on, "the King's nephew—if he exists." He gave one of his savage laughs. "But Druids have no conception of the truth. Merlin probably dreamed him up from some moldy tale."
"Sir Tristan?" Simeon ventured. "But even if he does, will he defend the King? Coming from Lyonesse, surely he'll follow the Goddess?"
Dominian showed his teeth in a nasty laugh. "The Great Mother, yes. The old whore we are driving from the land."
"As soon as we have taken Her ways for our own?" Dominian frowned. "What d'you mean?"
An earnest student of both history and the modern world, Simeon had been waiting for the moment to bring this up. "Did not the first Christians take over the apparatus of the Mother?" he began importantly. "Her threefold incarnation of Maiden, Mother, and Wise Woman, is that not what people in those days called the Holy Trinity?"
Dominian paused. "This is not something to share with the common folk," he said carefully. "We teach them that God the Father was here before all things."
"But our Communion, too," Simeon pressed on. "At the feasts of the Mother, the Lady is the loaf
"My name is Jerome," he had said gently. "We shall call you Dominian, for your first task is to achieve dominion over yourself. And then perhaps over others in the name of the Lord." The old man had reverently made the sign of the cross on his forehead, and at his touch, Dominian had grown quiet and fallen still.
Later, old Jerome taught him that his hunchback and his never-ending pain marked him out as one of God's chosen, destined for a special place around His throne. Jesus Himself meant abandoned boys like him when he said, "Suffer little children to come unto me, for of such is the Kingdom of God." From then on, the lost child had become old Jerome's pupil and later the first priest of his church, on fire to build the kingdom of God in this land. And now their community was known in Rome itself as a center for pilgrims and all men of faith.
Dominian reached for Jerome's hand, and brought it to his lips. "Guide me, Father," he said urgently, "for great things are stirring in the kingdom, and I must guide the King. The champion of Ireland is coming to demand the throne, and Merlin has promised us a knight who is nowhere to be seen."
"Ireland," the old man pondered, "where they keep the Old Faith. Where their queens listen to their Druids and they follow the Mother-right. Where we have made little headway." The same thought hung in the air between them both: If the champion wins, we shall be swept into the sea.
"Ireland, yes!" Dominian snorted. "Where even their Christianity is tainted by pagan thought and rotten to the core. We must root them out and impose the rule of Rome."
The old man raised his head. "In my Father's house," he said gently, "there are many mansions. These are the words of the Lord."
Dominian shook his head. "The faith of the Celts," he said with heavy emphasis, "is too close to the old power of women and the rule of queens." He gave a mirthless laugh. "Not a man among them can dictate to a woman, or expect her to follow God's law. They are all daughters of Eve, born to sin."
The old man inclined his head. "Yet Our Lord was born of woman."
"Yes indeed." Suddenly Dominian had an overwhelming urge to be gone. He struggled to his feet. "Farewell, Father."
He stooped for the old man's blessing, placed a kiss on the wrinkled forehead, and came out into the light, beckoning to the young monk waiting patiently there.
"Hurry, hurry," he snapped irritably, striking off down the path. "Yes, Father." Simeon knew better than to take offense. Doggedly Dominian led the way through the wood, making for the high road to Castle Dore, immersed in his own thoughts. "Could he be one of us?" he burst out.
"Sir?" Simeon was used to questions such as this, "if this knight Merlin promised us comes," Dominian brooded on, "the King's nephew—if he exists." He gave one of his savage laughs. "But Druids have no conception of the truth. Merlin probably dreamed him up from some moldy tale."
"Sir Tristan?" Simeon ventured. "But even if he does, will he defend the King? Coming from Lyonesse, surely he'll follow the Goddess?"
Dominian showed his teeth in a nasty laugh. "The Great Mother, yes. The old whore we are driving from the land."
"As soon as we have taken Her ways for our own?" Dominian frowned. "What d'you mean?"
An earnest student of both history and the modern world, Simeon had been waiting for the moment to bring this up. "Did not the first Christians take over the apparatus of the Mother?" he began importantly. "Her threefold incarnation of Maiden, Mother, and Wise Woman, is that not what people in those days called the Holy Trinity?"
Dominian paused. "This is not something to share with the common folk," he said carefully. "We teach them that God the Father was here before all things."
"But our Communion, too," Simeon pressed on. "At the feasts of the Mother, the Lady is the loaf
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