Célestiaá: Suns & Daughters

By Mick Carty

What is the meaning of life... when the price of life is death?

The Highland Laddie

Jake Corrie has lived most of his life in Glasgow, having experienced one tragedy after another; his mother dying just after his birth, his father and brother lost in a tragic road accident. He return

• Language: English
• Publisher: Transcension Publishing
• Release date: Oct 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781739950613

Book preview

Copyright

nnnn

Copyright ©️ Mick Carty 2021

This story is a work of fiction. Time, space, history, myth and legend have been plundered, rearranged and embellished to suit the narrative of the story, and my warped imagination. With the exception of some historic or mythological figures, any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No offence is intended to any individual, group, race or religion. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s.

The e-book version is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share the e-book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this e-book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy.

All rights reserved. This book, or e-book, or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author.

No AI was used in writing this book.

First published by Transcension Publishing 2021

Second Edition 2023

Transcension Publishing

Scotland

[e-mail]

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7399506-0-6

Hardback ISBN: 978-1-7399506-2-0

EBook ISBN: 978-1-7399506-1-3

Dedication

nnnn

For Rita Gunn, Margaret Carty,

Patricia Alalibo and Anna Martin.

For the many strong women who have, do,

and will in the future, make this world a better place.

Acknowledgements

nnnn

With many thanks to.....

Rita Gunn ; Brecken Calhoon ;  Rachel Scott ; Leah Shepherd

Explicit Content Warning

nnnn

This title contains explicit sexual content, violence, foul language

and character opinions and theories that may cause unintended offence.

Contents

nnnn

Copyright

Dedication

Contents

I. Séntinell... The Lumináry

II. New In Town

III. Come Into The Garden....

IV. Coffee & Toast

V. The Floating Full Stops

VI. The Princess of Troy

VII. Strath-sealgair

VIII. Hidden Treasures

IX. Catching Up

X. Mrs Katie Gallagher

XI. A Splendid Evening

XII. Postprandial Irritation

XIII. Geata Dhè

XIV. The Nothingness

XV. The Gentleman Tailor

XVI. The Malfeasance

XVII. Happy Birthday

XVIII. New Relations

XIX. Powerless

XX. Elŷsium

XXI. Money For Nothing

XXII. Disintegration

XXIII. The Elysian Fields

XXIV. The Good Fight

XXV. Birth of The Valkyrie

XXVI. The Pasiphae Problem

XXVII. Night Boat To Kiípos

XXVIII. Revelations

XXIX. The Mentors

XXX.  Melanie

XXXI.  We Are Family

XXXII. Jus Primae Noctis

XXXIII. The Shadow King

XXXIV. The New Queen

Epilogue

Thank You

About The Author

I. Séntinell... The Lumináry

nnnn

It is not, I know, customary to begin with an apology, but, I fear, if I am to engage you in the tales I am about to tell, I shall have need of your full trust and attention.

I wish to apologise for presuming. By your eyes viewing these accounts—simply by holding this document—I am presuming that the anecdotes recounted, the stories told, and even the players introduced in this epic journey through the history of the universe, will help bring within you a reflection; a reflection of your behaviours, your attitudes, and your beliefs. For we do, all of us, have need of reflection; a need to be aware of how every utterance, action or inaction, deed or misdeed, sends ripples through the ages, through the universe itself. Affecting many more souls than you can possibly realise.

You will, I am sure, be wondering, ‘Who is this judgemental postulator of everyone? How dare he presume to know me!’ Well, I can understand the instinctive, recoiling reaction people have when someone proclaims to know better. I’m not saying I do, only that it is, in my humble experience, and through extensive observations of everything there has ever been, most likely that I do.

And, as everyone these days has access to one public platform or other; has the means to vocalise the most ridiculous, offensive, dangerous of opinions; I feel it of the utmost importance you hear from one who most likely knows; one who has been there.

Who am I? My apologies, once again, for this most obvious of oversights.

My name is Séntinell... The Lumináry. The Watcher. The Witness. The Recorder. I have been called many names. You may have heard of me; maybe not. That is of no import. I am the recorder of all things; the diarist of the universe; the storyteller of the ages. There are so many stories I can tell; wondrous tales of honour, courage, love and betrayal that may interest you. Today, though, you must listen to this one, for this one affects you, and yours, and well... everyone. And it is, I suppose, a tale of honour, courage, love and betrayal.

It is a story of relationships, be they of love or hate; of man and woman; siblings or friends. With each other and with our gods; with our morals and our hypocrisies. It is a story of how we view our own circumstances; and how we justify to ourselves our own failings and weaknesses, often ignoring the most heinous of our own sins. Nothing is simply black and white; good or evil. Wicked men can do good things, good men do bad; the most loyal of people can commit the biggest betrayals; the greatest cowards perform the greatest acts of heroism.

It is also a warning; a warning that we, all of us, must change. We have made so many mistakes from the very beginning; and ignored so many previous warnings. And sometimes, just sometimes, we leave things too late.

Man has forgotten his place in the grand jigsaw of the universe; forgotten that he is just another animal - an intelligent species, but an animal all the same. And, as with every progenitive creature, the urge to mate grips him. He can extract great pleasure from this most necessary of nature’s gifts, but he can also make the mating ritual a torture; a torment for unwilling partners. Man is the only animal who seeks to profit from this most basic of physical requirements; prostitution, pornography, trafficking; all is within the propensities and capabilities of men. Nothing is too unsavoury, too despicable, as long as there is money to be made. He knows no boundaries, with even the youngest females—innocent children—falling prey to his desires and depravities.

The scent of the female fuels the lust of the male; the power of the male fuels the scent of the female. Round and round it goes. The eternal dance. Mother Gaea’s incitement to procreate, to mate, to reproduce; to simply survive as a species.

But Man has other urges, too. Dangerous desires. A lust for power; accumulation of wealth; dominance and enslavement of the weak. He can, and will, lie and cheat; murder and steal; betray and neglect his loved ones. He will strip bare the very home he lives in, and pollute the very air he breathes, for short term gain or fame; or infamy. Our tale shall display the entire range of man’s weaknesses, in all their distasteful glory.

It will cross your inquisitive mind at some point, I am sure, so I shall address the matter now. I am neither male, nor female... I just am. You may describe me as an Asexual Intersex, having neither the need nor desire to fornicate or breed. I am alone; dependent on no one, responsible for no one. I am here to be. To observe, and record. To watch. And, when the need arises... to educate.

I shall, only under necessity, refer to myself in the male pronoun, as there are no other pronouns that fit; being such an exclusive, singular entity. But your simple minds need something to tag a label on to; everything these days has to have he, she or it attached, so as I look, I suppose, more like a man than a woman, male it shall be.

I feel, that I should insert a disclaimer; a caveat. I shall refer to myself as male, but I do not wish you to think me male - any male - but particularly the human male. The human male, as we shall discuss, is a mostly hideous creature. That is only my opinion, but, as we have already agreed, my opinion carries every bit as much weight, as much gravitas, as anyone else’s.

My presentation and bearing? Well, for those interested in such things, if I were to be standing in front of you, you would certainly find me much taller and thinner than the average human. Of course, you will never see me standing in front of you; no, I am always that little thing in the corner of your eye, the glint of light, or the sudden movement that grabs the attention, but… when you look? Yes, that’s me; The Lumináry; everywhere, seeing everything... and yet, unseen; unless I wish it otherwise. Bear this in mind the next time you get up to something you shouldn’t.

There are many stories of the gods; I’m sure you will have your own; but here you shall meet the true gods. My account to you will be varied and epic, so pay attention, please. You shall meet many characters, visit many places. There will be joy, and tears. It is a story that I am sure will stretch your intelligence and imagination to breaking point, so pay attention, please.

You may, in your own estimable wisdom, or through whatever religious or belief system you follow, question the validity of the events I shall recount but, remember... I am The Lumináry. I was there. For all of it. Well, perhaps not all. I could hardly witness events before my creation, could I? Who could?

I warn you. You are about to learn of some awful, despicable... unforgivable acts; often carried out in the name of love, or in the name of the gods. You will hear some disgusting tales that shall test your beliefs. Belief in the gods, belief in man, belief in yourself.

This is no fairy story; no tale to tell your children. So, if you are not taking this opportunity to leave, we shall begin. I am a bit of a butterfly. I know, it’s a habit that is difficult to discard, but our journey shall flit from one chapter to another, from one player to another, and not necessarily in a chronological order. There is so much to see; yet little time to see it. You shall experience these events through my presence at these events, rather than through my eyes; but I shall only comment as, and when, I feel is appropriate.

We will not, as you may expect, start at the very beginning of everything; all the way back to the Nothingness. I shall recall those times later. Those times are not nearly as exciting as some would have you believe. I ask that you trust me with this. Despite having Celestial Beings central to the theme, Celestial Beings are not nearly as exciting as some would have you believe. Most of them, anyway.

There are many gods and demigods, but you shall quickly become familiar with the ones who matter. Their names, their homes, and their ambitions. Please, do not concern yourself with this.

It is people, however, unique in the entire universe, who always ask the big questions. Why are we here? What is our purpose? What’s it all about? I know the answers to these questions. Do you?

Our story begins, not at the beginning, but at the centre of the universe. The Highlands of Scotland, the most stunning place anywhere in the cosmos; that final brushstroke that is the difference between a painting and a masterpiece. When the gods get it right, oh my, how they get it right.

A series of events that no one would escape began here. If we are quiet; and watch closely; we may see ripples of events gone by. So, close your eyes and come closer. I need to enter your mind and show the story. What? Do you expect me to sit talking all night? No; I have more important things to do.

So, come closer. Closer.

II. New In Town

nnnn

It’s a curious thing... life.

It exists only in the most exclusive places. There is life, of course, on Sólaás; home of the great Sun-God, Helios, and his spouse, Perse. There they dwell, surrounded by the expired life essences; the souls, of every single creature, every single plant or insect, or fish that lived. Residual energy returned to Sólaás as payment for a life lived; a life first given by Helios, and his daughter, Circe. Residual energy that revitalises and invigorates Sólaás; keeping it ‘burning’, keeping us warm, keeping the universe breathing. The light end of the spectrum.

There is life, too, in Hades; home of Haáde, the Shadow-King, and his spouse, Pasiphae; the eldest daughter of Helios and Perse. Haáde, brother of Helios; defeated in battle at the dawn of everything, heralding the end of the Nothingness. The beaten, would-be suitor for Perse; banished to the darkest corners of the universe, humiliated and hidden from sight.

Here, too, dwell expired life essences of souls. But these are souls deemed not worthy of entry, of transcension, to Sólaás. This is where the shadows live; the Hadeans; the less than perfect; sinners, criminals or, maybe, just the unfortunate. A joyless life for the rest of eternity, in servitude to the Dark Lord and his Dark Wife. The dark end of the spectrum.

Hades; the stench-ridden dumping ground of the universe. Sólaás; the life-bringing centre of the Milky Way, spared the sights, the sounds, the smells of all that is vile. Both watched, kept at a distance, by the third of the brothers, Aether; the steward of Infinity, the balance keeper.

Helios, Haáde, and Aether. Perse, Pasiphae and Circe.

The Célestiaá. Masters of creation and destruction, life and death personified. First family of the Heavens. These are the gods you should fear; for without them there is no us. And should they decide it, then it shall be.

Where life is at its most vibrant and abundant, however, is Kiípos; the garden, and beating heart of the universe. Kiípos; the crowning glory of the universe. You will know it as Earth. Created by Helios and Circe, this tiny little island, a grain of sand in a desert without end, is the birthplace, the original home of these expired souls. And it’s from Kiípos that the first ripples in our saga emanate.

For, in a tiny corner of this grain of sand, is Scotland. The Highlands. Strath-sealgair. A small town, similar in size to the more well-known Pitlochry, but despite its remoteness, a modern town of 2500 residents.

Strath-sealgair is a place of outstanding beauty. It is popular as a ski centre in winter, a mountain resort in summer. Skiers, snowboarders, climbers and hikers; thousands flock to this little gem of a town. For it is a gem; a curio; a tiny, polished jewel hidden among the great natural skyscrapers that scratch the edges of space. It truly is like finding a diamond on a beach.

~~~~

04.00 Monday, 24th March 1986

The swollen glow of the new moon illuminated the grassy area housing the group of rock monoliths. A stiff breeze rose from nowhere, blowing across the clearing, weaving between each of the imposing menhirs; the eight craggy soldiers guarding the gateway to Elŷsium. Arranged in a perfect, equidistant circle, their heights increased in equal increments from the shortest in the south, to the tallest in the north. Rough and abrasive exteriors and edges contrasted the polished marble-like faces that looked in on the tidy circle of grass. They stood like giant, unmarked gravestones. Slumbering under the stars. Awaiting a call to action, a trigger to energise and activate.

The keystone towered above the rest, looking down like a gnarled, angry big brother; vexed at the protracted, enforced torpor that he and his siblings had endured since time began. But now, early on a cool spring morning, high in the Highlands of Scotland, Geata Dhè sparked into life. At the very heart of the keystone, a tiny glow appeared. Growing from a dot to the size of a golf ball; growing brighter, the light intensifying until brilliant white. The air crackled with electric energy as strands... veins... fingers of light... reached out from the heart; meandering through the height and width of the jagged column, revealing hidden ancient symbols, intricate runes. As the totem reached completion, the electric fingers stretched out further, touching and awakening the brothers to either side; the river of veins continuing to flow, revealing further runes before once again reaching out to the next stone.

The crackling tendrils concluded their journey at the last stone, a final rune triggering enormous beams of light to shoot skyward from each of the monuments. They spread out sideways, widening and joining the light from its neighbours, creating a complete circle before spreading inward toward the centre of the inner ring. The light held its intensity for several seconds before dimming slightly. It then slowly retraced its path backwards; back through each of the stones, until leaving Geata Dhè once more in darkness; back to its quiet seclusion, back to the silent illumination of the moon; save one significant detail. The clearing was no longer deserted.

In the centre of the circle stood a young woman, a teenager. Tall, slim and athletic. Her long, perfectly groomed dark brown hair hung forward over her left shoulder. Under her yellow zipped cagoule, she wore a simple white T-shirt, with loose fitting denim jeans that were turned up twice at the hems of each leg. Black baseball boots and white ankle socks completed her outer clothing. Her ancient Grecian underwear and accessories contradicted the modern simplicity of her outer garments; on her upper body she wore a silk strophion, wrapped around her breasts and tied neatly between her shoulder blades; a matching triangular silk perizoma covered her lower regions. On her left wrist, she wore a beautiful silver bracelet; on her right forefinger, a stunning dual-diamond ring, enhanced by the many surrounding side stones.

Her hazel eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the reduced light before scanning the immediate surroundings. She smiled, satisfied that she had reached her intended destination; she was where she was supposed to be.

Strolling out from the circle, she gazed contentedly from left to right and, despite the poor light, admired the lush greenery that surrounded her. To her right, the ground rose toward the tree line. A wall of Silver Birch stretched across the edge of the clearing, in front of thousands of Scots Pines, carpeting the remaining slopes of the mountain. They swayed in unison as the, now gentle, breeze brushed through the branches. The rustling of the Birch leaves sounded like the swelling rush of a hurrying torrent. To her front, and left, the level clearing faded into the edge of more Birch and Scots Pines, before taking a steady descent south in the town’s direction; whose lights twinkled through the darkness. A faint, rudimentary path looped away from the stones, down into the trees.

She paused and took a gulping breath of the beautiful, fresh mountain air. The sweet, woody fragrance of the Birch, and the sharp smell of pine, made her feel almost giddy as it swelled her nose and lungs. Her eyes looked upwards to the twinkling stars, and the bright full-of-the-moon; the crispness and clarity of the night sky emphasising the purity of the surrounding terrain. Bless you, Mother Gaea. Bless you, Lunaá, she said. This place truly is a little slice of heaven. She smiled, pulled her sleeves up to her elbows, then set off down the path in search of answers.

~~~~

It took a couple of hours to amble down the slope; taking in the natural beauty, smells and views offered to her on her journey. The dim light failed to dampen her enthusiasm or enjoyment and, through the trees, to her left, she could hear the faint sounds of several horses; the silhouettes of houses breaking the faint white skyline.

By the time she reached Strath-sealgair town centre, the first hints of sunrise were snaking down Main Street, bringing to life the various displays in the many shop windows. She sauntered down each side of the deserted street, taking in each store; enthralled by the bedazzling array of clothing, shoes, toys, and jewellery. There was a butcher’s, a baker’s and a fishmonger’s. A mini-market, a supermarket and a newsagent’s. Several tourist shops offered hundreds of garish, sometimes gimmicky, souvenirs and mementos.

There were several Bed & Breakfast establishments; a Chinese restaurant, an Indian restaurant; a fish and chip shop, three public houses; every third door an entry to a tea shop, or a fast-food outlet. The displays, and colours, brought a childish fascination; the tartans, the local delicacies, and the variety of soft, cuddly Loch Ness Monsters widened her eyes and brought an enormous smile to her face.

The sounds of the town opening up broke her scrutiny, and she realised she was no longer alone. Delivery vehicles were pulling up at the various emporiums; employees were arriving at their places of work; shop owners pulling up their shutters in readiness for the day ahead. Strath-sealgair was now opening her welcoming arms.

Midway up the street was a small public garden. A variety of shrubs and flowers bordered the neatly trimmed square lawn; evidence of Spring’s rejuvenating effects. Against the wall at the back stood a discreet war memorial, with several wreaths and poppy garlands underlining the short list of names; giving thanks and remembrance to the locals, the young men, who fought and died for their King and country. The families of these unfortunate heroes were, no doubt, grateful for the medals, and the thank-you notes stating they’d won; and the promises of how their sacrifices would never be forgotten. She sat on the adjacent bench and read the list of names aloud, a respectful pause between each, thanking them for their contributions... not to their King, no, but to the continuance of everything.

Then, with just a single word, the direction of the universe turned.

Family? She turned in the voice’s direction. A young man stood by the outer railings, a large, heavy looking canvas bag pulling down on his shoulder. A thin dusting of sawdust covered his dark blue overalls. He had an honest, open face, blue eyes and short, tidy brown hair; and a smile that she couldn’t help but respond to.

No... no, not family. Just more names of stolen lives. She smiled, realising the bitterness, and contempt, with which she’d spoken. Sorry, she said, I didn’t mean to sound so angry.

The young man looked at the nameplate. "Why not? Their lives were stolen... and for what? Some for a family squabble... some to stop a power hungry madman. ‘Lest We Forget’ it says.... they’d have been as well writin’ ‘... but only till the next time’."

You sound very knowledgeable, she said, impressed.

Not really. We learned about these poor guys at school. Look at the ages; most were about the same age as me... He looked back to the young woman, his smile waning. I’ve already done more livin’ than most o’ them.

Don’t worry, she said. They’re in a better place now.

Do ye believe that? I’d like to believe that..., he sighed, but I’m already gettin’ to be an auld cynic. She got up and walked toward him.

"I know they’re in a better place, she said, taking a last look over her shoulder at the plaque. But they deserved a longer life here first."

Havena seen ye about. Ye on holiday? He smiled again, then felt an icy shiver run down his neck as he saw her properly for the first time, suddenly realising how beautiful the girl was. He had approached and talked to a stunning girl. It wasn’t just that this was out of character for him... she was talking to him. She wasn’t laughing... or making fun of him... or running off in the other direction... she was actually talking to him.

I’m.... well, I’m new in town. Goin’ to be around for a while, just got to find a job... and somewhere to stay. Can you recommend anywhere?

What... a hotel, or a B&B, that sort o’ thing?

Aye, she said, getting an ear for his accent, slowly integrating it into her own speech. If she was going to blend in with these people, she’d best make a genuine effort. I’ll need someplace for a few nights, till I can get somethin’ more permanent sorted.

He scratched his head. Auld Betty Brewster’s got a decent place... cheap, too, for what you get. I think she’d like a bonnie young wummin’ for company... and tae cheer her place up. She’d look after ye too, keep ye safe fae... well, you know. Canna be easy in a new town.

"‘A bonnie young wummin’’? Are you flirtin’ wi’ me, Smiler?"

He blushed. No... no, I wouldna... I wisna... Sorry, if you thought...

Pity. She looked at him with an enormous smile lighting her face. Where’s this Betty’s place, then?

He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. It’s the top end o’ Main Street. It’s called ‘Caidil gu math’. Just tell her I sent ye and ye’ll get a really decent room.

He suddenly remembered where he was heading and, looking at his watch, said, "sorry, got to get on. George Grant’s needin’ a new counter top in his cafe. Name’s ‘Ray’, by the way."

"Thanks, Ray. My name’s Ci... ‘Cissy’, she said. Can I get a breakfast in this cafe you’re heading to?"

Aye. I’m sure George’ll rustle something up for ye, ‘specially if yer wi’ me.

It seems you’re the man to know around here, then?

He blushed again. Well, I dinna ken about that, he said, a genuine modesty about him.

She opened the gate and stood next to him. She was taller and carried herself with an almost regal authority; he looked in her eyes and, as he felt the blood rush through him, froze on the spot. Cissy smiled, then linked into his free arm. Well, Ray, she said, you’re the nicest man I’ve met since I’ve been here, forgetting to mention he was the first man she’d met here. So, if you dinna mind, I think I’d like to get to know ye.

~~~~

Cissy sat at a table by the large window, looking around the small cafe, a little surprised at how easy it had been to establish contacts in her strange, new surroundings. The cafe front had eight small wooden tables, with four matching chairs, and a white tablecloth draped neatly over each. A shiny chrome basket offered salt, pepper and a variety of sauce and condiment sachets, and there was a brightly coloured menu tucked into the thin space between the handles. A clean, white ashtray sat next to the condiments. The walls were painted a matte mustard, with various prints depicting a range of Highland attractions and beauty spots.

She watched Ray going about his work, listening to his easy chat with the cafe owner, who was working, unseen, in the kitchen to the back. Ray had a very pleasant, lyrical accent... an almost musical quality to his words, and Cissy was enjoying the ups and downs of his voice when the smell of frying sausages and bacon wafted through. She closed her eyes as she inhaled the amazing odours, her tummy rumbling in agreement that the little knot in her stomach wasn’t just her excitement at meeting Ray; it had been some time since she’d actually eaten anything.

So... Ray says yer new in town? George put the plate down on the table, his towel protecting his hand from the heat. Careful wi’ that, it’s very hot, he warned her. He was an older man. Late fifties, she reckoned; about 5’8" with a bald head and a short, but thick, ginger beard. His portly build, and the potbelly that was noticeable under his apron, suggesting he too enjoyed the generous breakfasts that he’d placed in front of her. She could barely see the large round plate below the two fried eggs, two pieces of square sausage... tattie scone... baked beans... tomatoes... mushrooms... black pudding and fried bread. A large mug of steaming, milky tea complimented the feast.

Aye, replied Cissy. Just got dropped off by friends.

At this time o’ the mornin’?

Cissy was already shovelling a chunk of sausage and beans into her mouth. Uh huh, she hummed, nodding her head as she chomped. They’re heading down to Glasgow, so thought to drop me off first. She glanced across at Ray, who was lifting a sizeable chunk of laminate worktop onto the counter area. He was very fit, with a muscular physique that was almost hidden by his overalls. But it was his face, and his infectious smile, that really attracted her to him; he was an open book, with honesty and decency just oozing from him. And he was really cute.

Concentrate! Cissy snapped out of her reverie, reminding herself she was here to do a job, not get involved with anyone, no matter how cute he was. She looked back at George. This is very good, she said, taking a slug of hot tea to wash it down.

George smiled at his guest. He also says yer lookin’ for work? The Easter break’s comin’ up and I could do wi’ somebody to wait on tables, wash dishes... that sort o’ thing, if yer interested?

Cissy nodded eagerly, as a trail of yellow egg yolk ran down her chin. Mmm mm, she agreed. That would be brilliant. Thanks.

Ye’ve no’ heard the wages yet, he laughed, and it’ll only be for a few weeks till the end of Easter. If it works out, ye can come back for the summer.

Cissy again looked over at Ray. He was laughing, gesturing to his mouth, trying to warn her of the lengthening yellow trail. I’m sure you’ll pay what the job’s worth, eh? she said. George smiled.

Ye’ve found a good ane here, Ray. There’s a coffee for ye, son.

Ray put down his tools and sat across from Cissy. Ye’ve got egg on yer chin, he whispered with a smile. She looked at his blue eyes, the sparkle and warmth pulling her in. Her eyes caught his, and they both felt the instant connection from earlier surge, like they’d known each other forever. You suit it, he laughed.

Just then, George put down a piece of paper. Ye’ll have to fill in this application form, just to keep the books right, Cissy. She stopped chewing and looked down at the form. Ray saw the horror on her face.

Will you really need that if it’s only for a couple o’ weeks, Mr Grant? he asked. And we were wonderin’ if you could, well, sort o’... any chance o’ cash in hand? Cissy watched the young man fight her corner, her initial instincts proving spot on once again. This was a decent person sitting across from her.

Oh, I don’t know, Ray... she’s a nice enough lassie, but I don’t know anythin’ about her. Her full name, address, where she’s from... that sort o’ thing.

Ye know me, Mr Grant. She’ll be stayin’ wi’ us, at mum and dad’s house. And I’ll vouch for her. He smiled and looked at her with a reassuring nod of the head; Cissy was rendered speechless at the sudden change in plan. George looked down at the young woman who, as well as looking absolutely stunned, now had a trail of bean juice competing with the egg yolk.

George smiled. Well, as long as she washes her face before she meets the public, he laughed. We’ll say it’s on an unpaid trial basis and keep the wages quiet, eh? Would that suit you and your agent? he asked Cissy with a wink. She nodded, dumbstruck.

Ray stood and, as he turned, asked the cafe owner, can I use yer phone, Mr Grant? Just want to let mum know Cissy made it on time. He looked back at Cissy, nodding frantically in search of her approval at his unexpected suggestion. George happily agreed before disappearing into the back of the cafe.

The kindness being shown by the two strangers astonished her. This was not what she was expecting, having studied many people from the safety of Elŷsium before deciding to venture here. People were parasites; they were greedy, selfish and insatiable. She knew there were many decent, kind people on Kiípos, but did not think she’d encounter this friendliness and kindness so readily. After a couple of minutes, allowing her to finish her breakfast, Ray reappeared with a huge grin on his face. Sorted, he said, but ye’re gonna have tae fill me in on a’thing before we get ye hame.

She reached over and took his hand. Thank you, so much, she said. This is really kind o’ ye. Ye dinna have tae, ye know.

He looked over his shoulder at the unfinished counter. I’ll have tae finish here first, but I can phone Mr Calman, my boss, and get the rest o’ the day aff.

Can you just do that?

Aye, it’s alright. I’m due some time aff and he’s a great boss. Treats me like one o’ the older guys, no’ just an apprentice. It’s fine. He held her hand, enjoying the warmth and closeness of his new friend. What’ll ye do in the meantime, though? he asked.

She looked toward the back of the cafe. I’ll see if Mr Grant would like some help this morning, she said.

Great, he said. I’ll finish here, then drop my tools off back at the mill. Then I’ll pick ye up and take ye home tae meet my mum. Ye can tell me all about yerself. He laughed. This is crazy. Canna believe we’re doin’ this.

Cissy smiled warmly at her new potential housemate. "Why are ye doing this? she asked. You know nothing about me; where I’m from, or what I’m doing here. I could be telling you a pack o’ lies, for all you know."

Somebody I knew, once, probably found herself in a similar position. I’d like tae think somebody helped her out when she needed it. If ye’re a liar, or a con-woman, or a thief... ye’ll be disappointed. We’ve no’ got anythin’ worth nickin’. ‘All we have is ourselves’, as my mum would say.

You didn’t lie to your mum on my account, did you?

Oh no, I’d never lie to my mum. Or my dad. She knows everythin’, as little as it is, that I know about ye. And she’ll no’ see ye struggling. And George, here, disna need to know we’ve only just met, does he? He looked at her with an unexpected seriousness. Besides, he said, "ye have a very trustworthy face. I feel... sure... about ye."

Cissy couldn’t believe that the first person she’d encountered could be such a wonderful, respectful, caring young man. And he was really cute, she thought. There’s just one other thing, she said.

Ray gave her a cheeky wink. Dinna worry, I’ll pay. Wouldna want tae see a bonnie wummin’ starve, would I?

~~~~

They strolled down Main Street like they’d been friends all their lives, effortlessly comfortable in each other’s company. Cissy thought about how much she could get away with telling Ray; she didn’t want to lie to him, but she couldn’t be totally honest either.

My name’s Cissy... Helios, I’m 19, and I’m not originally from around here.

Helios? That’s an unusual name.

It’s... Greek. My family is originally from Greece, and I’m here on a.., she was trying to think of something believable, ... a gap year, from University down South.

A student, eh? Glasgow University? What are ye studyin’? Is it English, cos your English is great?

Yeah, Glasgow. Er... history and environmental stuff. She laughed. And my English is good cos I’m no’ fae Greece, just my family are.

"Environmental stuff? he laughed. Sounds like a really impressive course."

Cissy smiled and nudged him with her hip. Behave yerself, Smiler.

How come ye dinna have any luggage wi’ ye, if yer stayin’ for a while?

Er, my stuff wasn’t up to much, so I thought I’d buy new clothes when I got here.

Wi’ nae job, nae accommodation, and nae money? Ye plannin’ a big shopliftin’ spree? he laughed.

Ah, I never said I didn’t have any money, Cissy argued. You assumed that. I’m not as poor as I may look.

His mouth thinned, and he nodded in agreement. Fair point, he said. I wondered about the bracelet and ring. My name’s Ray Corrie. I’m 18, an apprentice carpenter, and I still live with... my mum and dad.

Are you sure your parents won’t mind me just showing up?

My mum and dad are absolute gems, he said. They’re a great help with... He broke off. Cissy looked at him, his frown conceding his hiding something.

A great help with...? she encouraged.

Look, I better be up front wi’ ye. I’ve got a wee lad... Eric. He’s just turned one... and he’s everythin’ tae me. His mother’s long gone, and she’s no’ comin’ back. So, me, my mum and dad are all that he’s got.

He stopped walking and turned to look at her. I’m no’ wantin’ tae sound like a desperate idiot, but I really like ye, Cissy. That’s why I stopped at the gardens. I’m no’ in the habit o’ chattin’ up lassies, especially when I’ve only just met them; been scared off a little wi’... ye know, stuff. But I saw ye on that bench and... Cissy linked her arm into his.

I knew you were special, Ray Corrie. They looked at each other, both surprised at the lack of awkwardness. There was a connection, an attraction. Already there was a genuine, mutual affection.

Ye’re no’ scared off? I’ve just told ye I’ve got a bairn, and ye don’t mind?

Can’t wait to meet him. If he’s anything like his dad, then I’ll bet he’s a proper gent. She smiled at him. The worry dropped from his face and he returned her smile. There ye are, Smiler. Keep doin’ that and ye’ll never be rid o’ me.

As the young couple continued their walk, laughing and chatting away, the chess pieces of the universe began their shift toward a dramatic, tragic checkmate.

III. Come Into The Garden....

nnnn

Troy - 1274 BC

Cassandra! Cassandra, the young girl called. Wait for me, Cassandra!

At last, the rain had stopped; heat from the sun already drying the plants, the trees, and the grass. The two girls came running out the palace door, laughing and screaming with youthful excitement as they skipped down the long path into the sea of colours. The palace gardens were a magnificent playground, full of beautiful flowers and shrubs, with enormous expanses of lawn and pathways bordered by stone walls, archways, succulents, and trees.

Along the outer walls were lines of Cypress trees, trained to stand guard at regular intervals. In front of them, rosemary, thyme, sage, chives, and parsley lined the beds. There was an abundance of olive trees scattered throughout the entire compound; erratically placed, yet still adding to the formality of the wide open spaces. An entire citrus area; lemons, limes, oranges, tangerines all added dramatic colour to the banks of trees.

Vast swathes of pink bougainvillea adorned the lower inner walls. Hyacinth, daffodils, gladiolus, aloes and anemones all poked their colourful heads up toward the sun. There were so many hiding places; so many secretive little nooks and crannies; the two girls could easily spend the day making their way around the grounds.

Hurry, Elena, before it dries too much, the taller girl said, as she ran from the path and onto the lawn, kicking off her sandals. I just love the feel of the wet grass between my toes.

The other girl caught up with her. They were both dressed in knee-length play tunics; a peplos - a single piece of loose cloth, pulled over their heads and fastened about the waist with a loose belt. The peplos was pulled up, then folded down over the belt, making it appear as if