Across Time

By Crys Cross

Two women, strangely linked across time, a Pagan priestess, highly trained in the use of uncanny powers, looking for a new home for her people, and a young archaeologist, trying to chart a course for her life and drawn ever deeper into a strange land of visions. Following the priestess on her quest, she walks the path to her own future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Books on Demand
• Release date: Oct 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9783735733108

Crys Cross

Crys Cross lives in Vienna, but has travelled extensively in her youth. She holds egrees from Vienna University in Archaeology and Ancient History, and is a practicing Pagan.

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The writer asserts the moral right that she is the sole author of this book, its contents is her sole intellectual property.

Any copying, editing, printing, or publishing, physically or on the Internet without the prior consent of the author is illegal.

Public readings of this book are only permissible with prior consent of the author.

The author is living in Vienna, Austria, contact may be made by email [e-mail]

An Introduction, sort of …

Some books have to be written.

Crazy me, here I sit, writing an introduction for a book of which I am less than sure that I will ever finish it, that anyone will ever read it – but some things have to be written, too.

And time and again, people I met along the way – you out there, yes, you! I am talking about you here! - urged me to write down things I told them, concepts I am using in my own life, concepts other people found useful for their lives.

Why it came down to me writing a novel that is mainly a work of fiction, is one of the mysteries I have no ready answer for. Maybe because I always loved to tell or write stories, they are so much more emotive than dry texts instructing for example in the proper use of elemental symbols. Another mystery for which I have even less of an answer is why I started to write it in English. English is not my native tongue, it is more of a chosen language for me. And some of those concepts I mentioned a few lines earlier, I can express way better in English. However, it is still a bit crazy, huh?

Over the years, parts and pieces of the story flickered through my mind, waking or sleeping, forming an arc through time. I beg you to understand, this novel is no autobiographical work, though many things I learned, that sometimes just happened to me, form the underpinnings of the story. As do the people I met, people that have walked the Way with me for a time, people that are still with me after long years.

All similarities to people living or long gone to the Lady are absolutely intentional, but the actions they take or do not take have their origin in my mind, mostly. To protect their privacy, they remain either nameless or got names I invented. Probably a needless precaution – I think many of them will never read these lines. But it is the right thing to do, this is my story, after all, not theirs.

If anyone thinks he or she recognizes himself or herself in one of the characters I have portrayed, you are welcome to do so – but if you do not like what you see, do not blame me. If you like it – well, you can always try to live up to it :-)

My protagonists are still my invention, my way of seeing people, but thanks for lending me images on which to fix the inspiration.

One thing more: if you’re looking for historical accuracy, ’this is not the book you are looking for’, to cite Obi-wan from Star Wars. Sorry, Mr. Lucas, for borrowing that famous line! I really like your movies.

This novel is dedicated to those that promised me to read anything I write – I hope they are up to their promise now :-)

Crys Cross

Vienna, Summer and Autumn 2014

Contents

The Temple on the Hill

Setting things to right

Interlude One

The Words of a Healer

Interlude Two

Fulfilling the Will

Interlude Three

Ships in a Harbour

Before Sunrise

Interlude Four

A Parting

Interlude Five

Another Island

Interlude Six

Walking the Path

The Day of Love and Life

Interlude Seven

A Hope Lost

Interlude Eight

Discoveries

Interlude Nine

A World Ending

Into the Darkness

Interlude Ten

When the Ships Come

Interlude Eleven

The Broken Dream

Interlude Twelve

Guarding the Flame

Survival

Interlude Thirteen

The Dark Years

Interlude Fourteen

In the Lady’s Name

The Temple on the Hill

Setting Things To Right

The old priestess had been up early. Sleep eluded her these days, so she had started to clean up the Temple after last night’s celebrations. Setting things to right that could be righted easily gave her an odd sense of comfort.

Collecting empty dishes and plates, she smiled to herself. When she was young, she had hated cleaning duty with a vengeance, and done her very best to avoid it, much to the dismay of her then superiors and teachers, all long gone to the Lady, years ago. She imagined them looking at her now, nodding their heads, with those wise little smiles on their faces that had infuriated her so much a long time ago.

According to the Rules of the Temple, they could and would never force anyone to do any work a person did not want to do. Now she was the one to smile a sad little smile, when one of the younger girls stalled at domestic chores, thinking of herself as already a great priestess high above any such menial labour, and walking out on her with barely enough courtesy, pretending some other urgent business. They were not punished, the Rules did not believe in punishment as a means of education. The decision rested solely with the teachers, if such avoidance was indicating unfitness for further learning and advancement. These girls were just not selected as personal assistants by one of the fully initiated priestesses, left to such duties as keeping the numerous candles alight and the herbs sorted.

Some never got the hint and left after a while, often under the pretext of being needed at home. Mostly, they came from well-to-do families, which explained their aversion against honest handiwork, and having served in the Temple even for a short while gave them some prestige they could use in ’civil’ life.

She had been one of those that took some time to understand what was going on. For her, leaving had never been an option, even if her family, or what had been left of it at that time, had agreed to it. There had been no home she could have returned to, she had been born to the Temple. This was her home. An old, old hurt flickered over her serene face, if only for a moment.

Brushing the precious cut flagstones of the main Circle room, she let those sad thoughts go for the now, knowing very well that some things could never be set right, only forgiven when enough time had passed. Another sad smile, saying that possibly for her the time that had passed was still too short to think about certain things without the well-known pain stirring. Forgiveness, yes, she had forgiven when she had realized that circumstances and – maybe! - fate had forced the decisions that had set her feet on the path she was still walking. And in a way she feared that she might seem ungrateful, if she ever gave voice to those thoughts, because this path had brought her responsibility, influence, and a respect that bordered on awe. But the Lady Mother knew her heart of hearts, and that had to suffice.

In a few moments, the Sun would come up. Time to put the broom away and take up the Chalice for the Morning prayer. The light of Father Sun would bring her peace and happiness, as it always did since the day she had for the first time consciously acknowledged its radiance and warmth.

The Servants of the Temple, the Healers, the Teachers, most of the students, and a small crowd of townsfolk that had taken it upon themselves to walk the long and winding path illuminated by torches up to the top of the hill, had gathered at the single standing pillar, marking the days of the year by the shadow it cast at midday.

Her voice, still beautiful and strong, intoned the first line:

Greetings to you, Messenger of the Lord of Life! in the exact moment the first glimmer of light showed on the eastern horizon, far out on the still dark ocean. Then the other voices joined in and a ringing chorus full of harmony greeted the new day.

The Morning prayer completed, she went to her rooms to dress in garments that were more formal. Today, the day after the Spring Equinox celebration, the Temple was open for new applicants. Families from all over the Island had come to the Town during the last few days, bringing either their newborn children to be welcomed into this world and blessed in the rites held yesterday evening or their older daughters and sons they thought worthy to offer to the Temple.

Most of those children that were accepted received a good education in the Temple school, learning their letters and numbers and the history texts, and a number of them was bright and curious enough to stay on and keep studying one of the venerated sciences or arts, becoming one day the artisans, healers, philosophers, scholars and teachers famed throughout the world.

Some had that certain spark in their souls that spoke of the possibility of a life-long dedication to the Goddess and God and the Temple.

Once, when she had been younger, there had been more of them. The old priestess had wondered about that for some years now, consulting the ancient texts and prophecies, and what the old wisdom indicated was what had her going to bed late and rise early. But no amount of prayer and meditation could calm the nagging fear for the future of her people. The ancient texts were crystal-clear about it: if the Temple failed, there was no future. If there were no more girls and boys carrying the inborn fire-spark and serving in the Temple, or if there were too few of them left, life, as they had known it for generation after generation would come to an end.

When she came to the receiving room, it seemed her fears were nothing more than the maundering of an old woman, sleeping badly due to age creeping on. Over two dozen families were waiting there, attended by younger priestesses and scribes noting down name, home districts, parentage, and age of the applicants.

People stood and bowed when she entered, touching index and middle finger of their right hands to forehead, mouth and heart, in the time-honoured way of a formal greeting.

Blessings to all that have come! She gave the equally formal answer and sat down on the beautifully crafted chair set under the opening in the ceiling so that she might have a clear view of the children brought to her.

Family after family was escorted to her, the scribe whispering name and age of each child that bowed to her. Some looked just a little bit frightened, some smiled eagerly, and some were indifferent.

The frightened ones were those that entered the Temple school for learning. Those that were still too homesick after a month were sent back home, free to give it another try when they were older. A child crying in the night cannot hear the words of the teacher by day, an old saying went. For the others, a year of education in the basic skills, then they would be received in the Temple once more to decide what the best path would be for them. Their families went out with them to accompany them to the school that was situated a little lower on the Temple hill.

Those that smiled eagerly were accepted into the Temple proper. Of course, they would receive schooling like the others, but they would also become the little helpers, as they were called, doing messenger duties and other small chores suited to their age and slowly walking the path that led to becoming a Servant. The priestesses asked them and their families to follow them to the living quarters of the Temple Servants, where the children would live from now on in the dormitories, with the children born to the Temple, under the care of those priestesses and priests that had young children of their own.

Those that looked indifferent received a few friendly words and their parents a token to show to their village priestess or priest and a soft admonition to prepare them better, if they wished to present them again. Disappointment showed on the faces of some of the mothers and fathers.

"Life in the Temple is something that has to be embraced eagerly, from the very beginning. It is what the service to our Mother and Father demands, no less. And it has to be embraced by the one entering the Temple, not by his relatives. A parent has the duty to choose the best path for the child, but it is still the path of the child, not of the parent.

One should think very carefully about this, so as not to confuse the paths."

Disappointment vanished and was replaced by shame, on some faces.

Leave with my blessing, nothing has been done that cannot be set to right, and who knows what will be at the next Spring Equinox. Thankful smiles and respectful bows answered her friendly words, and then those families were ushered out.

Finally, only one small group of people was still waiting in the receiving room. A woman, a man, and three girls. Two of them seemed to be too old for presentation to the Temple; the third one looked extremely young and fragile.

They asked to be the last ones presented, whispered the young priestess coming before her. The mother was once a Servant of the Temple, before she left to have a family. The old priestess recognized the woman after a moment and beckoned her closer. So you have returned to us after what – twenty-four years?

Yes, Eldest. I – we wish to present our youngest daughter. At a wave of her be-ringed hand, the smallest of the girls came forward, the father following close behind.

Revered Eldest, he said, bowing respectfully, my wife always speaks so highly of her years as a Temple Servant, how happy she had been here and how much there is to be learned, and our child expressed quite – forcefully – her desire for learning and wisdom, more than we could ever hope to find for her in our small hamlet. We could not bring her sooner – she is in her eleventh year now, that is two years too old according to the Rules, I know this well – because of her weak condition, the village Healer strongly advised us against it. He said she might not be strong enough even now, but that this was for you to finally decide. He bowed again and took a few steps back, stroking the child’s hair softly, as if to console her.

The old priestess looked at the woman. Happy, hmm? Much to learn? She smiled a little. The woman had been one of those that left without learning much more than polishing candle holders, despite being distantly related to her and coming from a line of priestesses or maybe because of that, but at least she had now the grace to turn her gaze to the floor and the old woman let the matter drop. What that woman had told her husband about her earlier life was between the two of them. Embarrassing someone needlessly was not the way of the Lady Mother.

When she looked up again, concern and sorrow was in her eyes.

Eldest, this daughter of mine was born late in my life, when I thought I was no longer fruitful, and she is paying the price for my carelessness. I love her dearly and I have prayed long and hard to find a way to help her. I do not know if this was a true vision or something born of the guilt and sorrow I feel, but I have been told that to let her fulfil her life’s path, I have to give her up. She sighed, fighting with tears, and whispered: So be it.

Come to me, Child!

The small girl took a few steps forward and the priestess looked closely. Yes, the child was small for her age. Her most prominent feature was a mass of dark curls that had a reddish glint in the light from above, spilling down to her hips. The child could have been pretty, but the pale face, the dark circles under her eyes and the thin lines of pain around her little mouth, so out of place on a girl that age, made her look sickly. Then she opened her eyes fully and the priestess took an involuntary deep breath. Those eyes, much too big for the small face, had a spark in them that glittered like a ray of sunlight. An answering light started to shine from the eyes of the old woman, a silent understanding passed between the two of them, they could have been alone in the room, so far away had the presence of the other people drifted.

I have come home, Eldest! said the girl and the priestess stood up, took her by the hand and -

*  *  *

Interlude One

An insistent Beep-beep-beep woke me up. I tried to ignore it, but it was getting louder and louder. Memory stirred. Oh yes, I had set the alarm clock before falling into bed at four in the morning, because I had an important test in school, one I dared not to miss, because it was my last chance to finish the Chemistry course. I had missed all others, as I had missed much of the last year in school. So I sat up groggily, trying to wake up, but I could not shake free from that intense dream. I had been that old priestess, feeling the pain she had felt when thinking about her childhood, it still made my heart ache. And I had been that small girl, starved for knowledge, hungry for a world of learning, imprisoned in a body that betrayed her time and again. Her unshed tears were burning in my eyes now. I so wished to return to that dream, to see if her sorrow would be replaced by happiness, but I could not.

I had dreamed away, lazed away most of the last three months, driving my teachers to distraction. I was a hair’s breadth away from being thrown out of school, because of the tests and examinations I had missed. It was not that I did not want to learn, I just did not want to learn what they taught in school. It was not that I did not like having people around me, just not the people that were in my class.

Something had happened last spring, something that had ended my carefree teenage years for good, and there was no way I could have come back to school in September as the same person that had left for summer holidays in June. My classmates felt it, those that had made it through the Great Reckoning that had happened at the end of the last semester. They were not the ones who had been my friends for the last seven years anyway, but those I never had much to do with. But, even if we had never been good friends, they had known me for a long time now and recognized the difference.

That had not helped in the least. I had gone to school last year mostly, because my friends were there. I still felt guilty. My happy-go-lucky attitude when it came to studying might have been partly responsible why they had not made it through the last grade. I very rarely saw them now, our schedules were too different, our lives had become too different. They were still carefree teenagers; they could not understand, why, in May, I suddenly had chosen to try to pass all necessary exams for admission to the final year instead of repeating with them. I just wanted to get through the last year and leave school for good, but with a diploma that would allow me to enter University. A diploma that would set me free.

So I hastily washed and dressed and left, not even thinking about waking the others. They would not have thanked me for it. I had even slept on the sofa in the living room, so as not to disturb them when getting up.

Somehow, I made it through that damn test, knowing I was good enough to get a final positive grading. I even stayed until school ended at two, despite having slept for three hours only, showing my face to the other teachers, and simply pretending not to hear concerned questions where I had been those last two weeks. Even the most well-meaning of the teachers had almost given up on trying to help me by now, they knew about my situation, as it was politely called, that breaking-up of a family that had only existed on paper for years, far longer than it had been a real family.

I also made it back to the flat where I now lived, where the others – my boyfriend, his cousin, and his girlfriend – were sitting at the breakfast table when I came in.

I just gave them a thumbs-up and went to bed. My last conscious thought was that the pain of the priestess had only been a way for my subconscious to express the hurt I did not allow myself to feel when I was awake. Anger had carried me through the last horrible six months, but anger can carry you only so far. I fervently hoped that my interrupted dream would return to me, but of course, it did not.

I got up at five, readying myself for another night shift at the Stardust Club. Everything back to normal, whatever normal now meant for me. Or so I thought. However, when I caught myself looking out of the balcony doors, searching for a distant hill on the horizon, with a lone pillar rising from its top, I knew something had changed profoundly – again. And this time, the change was inside myself, not forced on me by persons or situations where I had no say about what was happening.

Why, you smile! I would never have thought you could be so happy because of a passed test! my boyfriend joked. I shook my head. It isn’t that or not only that.

Care to talk about it?

Another shake of the head. Not now, I have to leave in a few minutes. We left the Club in a mess, this morning.

He gave me an astonished look. You’re not telling me you are the one who will do the cleaning?!

I smiled so hard, my face hurt. Why not? I am just setting things to right.

*  *  *

The Words of a Healer

The old priestess was walking down the hill, carefully and slowly, until she reached the House of Healing at the foot. Some healer novices, working in the herb garden, saw her approach. One sped at a full run to the quarters of the Healer eldest, the others bowed politely and asked, if they could be of service to the honoured Mother.

She smiled at them: Blessings to you, my young friends. A mug of water would be very welcome, and a place to sit and wait, until your Eldest might find the time to speak with me.

He is already being informed of your coming, honoured Mother. Please, come with us. What they pointedly did not ask was her business here.

Thank you for your friendliness. Let me assure you that all is as it should be. I just need advice in a very complicated case.

The healers-to-be were too well trained to show any undue emotion, so she felt more than she heard their relief. If the Eldest of the Temple Servants came down in person, it might have signalled near-catastrophe.

No sooner had she been seated in the gazebo in the rosegarden and cool refreshing water with Lemon Mint brought to her, that the Healer eldest appeared.

The Mother’s and Father’s blessing to you, honoured Mother! came his formal greeting.

Ah, stow it! I have to endure that crap all day! I cannot have that from you, too, my beloved! She smiled and offered her cheek for a kiss.

The Healer eldest, her long-time lover and friend, laughed softly. Goddess above, You know why I could never love any other woman after meeting this Servant of Yours. They embraced and he sat down next to her, gazing at her fondly.

What can I do for you and why did you not send for me to come up to the Temple?

"You are older than I am, if only by a few years. It is easier for me to walk downhill than for you to come up. And if I am too tired for the walk back, I can let myself be carried and do honour to the poor guys that have to carry me uphill in this