"Certain renegades; artists, revolutionaries, writers, even musicians, inventors and scientists; dangerous folk banished to earth; exiled, quarantined, would break out -- fed bits of information of how to unlock the cage by our kindred and friends still on the 'Other Side'.
"Find the others, then you will know what to do. All truth which springs from the individual is subversive. Find the others...and then, using this technology that was designed to keep track of us, to pick our pockets and to sell you junk that we don't want; use this technology to produce art, music, massive amounts of subversive art. All culture is some kind of myth, all cultural stories have a psychic dynamic to them. We are not an army...
"Never confront evil directly, never name it directly; it finds weapons to defend itself -- (I Ching);
"We are not an army, so our strategy must be stealth.
It is an alchemical strategy. The house of constipated reason must be infiltrated by art, by dreaming, by vision...
"Sartre said that 'Nature is Mute', but I believe that all being is pregnant with language..."
--Terence McKenna, as Dr. John Dee
in: The Alchemical Dream
. . . .
'You imagined that Athena couldn't possibly have a son, being virgin, but you forgot, methinks, the goddess, once on a time, bore a Drakon, Erikhthonios, to the Athenians...'
--Apollonios
. . . .
"We are different men when hell breaks loose."
"And when does that happen?"
"Hell happens when the evil of this world exceeds our belief that we can conquer it."
--Da Vinci's Demons
. . . .
Athena's eyes shone brightly in the dancing firelight. She looked upon The Cup with an expression of wonder, anticipation and, perhaps, just a dash of greed, tempered with a smidgen of anxiousness.
Daryl's expression echoed hers, but he was frowning slightly as he studied the cup, elbows on knees and chin resting on his hands clasped before him.
Em, crouched in her corner of the sofa still, legs tucked safely beneath her, was fairly all anxiety. She had to admit, though, that she was, as ever, curious. Again.
Daryl reached for his coffee, glancing at Athena, and smiling.
'You seem to be ready and willing, O Goddess of Heroic Undertakings!'
'Always!' Athena grinned. 'Well, nearly so...'
'Little wonder Athens and the Parthenon were dedicated to you, cara...' Daryl sat back, sipping his caffeine. 'Our Phil Dick once had a vision of Rome, overlaying the view of the California coast before him. "The Empire never ended," he said then.'
'"If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face, forever," -- thus spake George Orwell,' Athena
remarked.
'Yes, and "The future ain't what it used to be,' -- Yogi Berra.'
Daryl smirked into his mug. He stood then, and went to the fireplace, stirring the coals down. 'Have you ever been to Washington DC, Em?'
Emlyn was jolted from her trance-like study of The Cup at Daryl's query. 'I, ah, no...I have not. Haven't really traveled much about the northeast.'
Daryl nodded toward Athena, 'Our good goddess here, is depicted as Minerva on the Capitol rotunda ceiling, along with various other Roman gods and a godlike George Washington, in a vast Renaissance-like fresco, entitled "The Apotheosis of Washington".' Daryl finished his coffee and set his cup down with a look, '...All rather Empirical, one might say...'
'Indeed?' Em frowned. 'I do believe I have seen pictures of this in a book, however, now that you mention it.'
'...Or...' Athena opined, '...it could be just what it claims to be; our forefathers, some of them, were futurists of sorts, or attempted to be thus, in putting their aims and hopes into building this new government of ours. Perhaps they believed that now, free of fetters of the past, man could at last strive without impediment toward becoming, as the I Ching would call it, 'The Superior Man'.'
'Hm.' Daryl didn't sound so sure. 'Das Ubermensch? Such talk of Empires and Supermen has not boded well for most folk, throughout history.' He looked on The Cup with a frown. 'Ah, well; 'tis a bit much perhaps to hope for freedom in a land founded by Puritans! 'Land of the Free!'--not so much in Salem,
in the fair state of Massachusetts! Religious freedom was a fine idea, in theory.'
'I used to think once women had the vote, wars and inequality would become a thing of the past,' Emlyn remarked.
'But, not so, in reality, I guess...'
Athena sighed, 'I sometimes think what should have been done long ago, would be to halve the world in twain: betwixt lovers and fighters. Let the warlike duke it out amongst themselves, and leave the rest of us to our music, art and poetry, and share food together along with stories of our many cultures and legends, and find what we have in common with one another, rather than focus on our differences.'
'Make Love, Not War!' Daryl sang out, smiling their way. 'Well,
candles out.' He stood, pinching wicks into smoke. 'The fire should burn down safely enough. Anything else need doing, cara?'
'All is in readiness, I believe.' Athena sat forward, gazing at him with anticipation. 'Lead on, brave Ulysses...'
'Riiight...' Daryl sat then, on the sofa betwixt the two women.
'Ah, and just for the record, let us note the time...nearly midnight! Perfect.'
Daryl sat forward hovering over the Cup, while Athena scooted closer beside him. Emlyn unfolded herself and came to sit on Daryl's other side, licking her dry lips. She took a last sip of coffee. 'Ready as we'll ever be, I suppose,' she said.
Athena's mantle clock softly chimed the Midnight Hour then. Em noted the wooden owl's eyes seemed to gaze into her own, as shadows appeared to lengthen and grow all about them. The storm outside sounded relatively becalmed. They waited as the last silver ringing died out on the stroke of twelve.
Daryl reached forth first, as he had done before, and grasped the handle facing him. He looked to Athena, who also reached a slim, long-fingered hand toward the right side handle, the large owl ring on her index finger making a slight ping upon the metal. Emlyn took a deep breath, and her not-so-steady hand took hold of the left handle.
All went dark...
. . . .
Emlyn opened her eyes to behold herself sitting upon a log with several others round a campfire in the night time. They were in a densely wooded area, and there were tents erected about the encampment, sounds of horses tethered close by. Where were Daryl and Athena?
Em looked about her, trying to get her bearings. Had they been transported back to the gypsy camp, she hoped? She then spied Daryl emerging from a tent, with Athena. But Athena appeared rather changed...
She seemed taller somehow. She was dressed in knee-boots and breeches and wore a long woolen cloak about her
shoulders, fastened with an owl broach worked in silver. Emlyn looked at herself then; also wearing buckskin breeches and boots, she had a simple homespun shirt and also a woolen cloak.
Daryl looked much the same. Robin Hood's Merry Men?
Glancing about the camp however, no one here seemed in a merry mood. Rather than preparing for bed, folk were packing up as if for travel.
'Emlyn!' Daryl called, motioning her their way.
As Em approached her friends, she noticed Athena perusing a paper she was holding. 'The Puritan Patriots and the Sons of Madrid were spotted on the western slopes of the Rockies...damn them!' She slapped the missive before her. 'Why? Why can they not simply leave us in peace?!'
Daryl stood frowning, his arms crossed before him. 'We can be gone in an hour, and no traces left behind. The Cherokee have gone ahead with the Creoles, to meet up with us at the gypsy camp. The Cajuns say the Huguenots have all fled, seeking to join us there as well...'
'Small wonder there...' Athena sighed. 'Just so they know the rules, and don't bring with them any of the religious mania we're seeking to escape! The Salem Contingent would set them to rights rather forcibly, I'm afraid.'
'We knew this day would come, cara,' Daryl put a hand upon Athena's arm, 'not so soon, perhaps, but...'tis the nature of the Beast.'
'What is it?' Em spoke up at last. 'What, where are we going?'
Athena's beautiful, tired eyes looked down at her. 'The Right Coast has officially broken treaty. They seek to conquer the Left. It is not in their nature to live and let live. 'Divine Right' they claim, is theirs, to all the land. We all now must live under their twisted rule, in the iron prison that is their law, and under the thorny yoke of their god of hate.' She looked out over the camp. 'We must be away. There is no other recourse. If we must fight, it will be with clandestine warfare, and stealth. We cannot face them in force.'
Diosa! Emlyn suddenly became aware of their situation.
As she moved about decamping with the others, she seemed to be of two minds: she was here-and-now in the camp packing to leave, and she was also sitting on the sofa at the gatehouse, hand on Cup.
...And it seemed as though Athena's idea of a land torn in two had somehow become entrenched in another reality. A parallel world, beside the one she'd always known.
Another Civil War had now begun, in America. Only it wasn't North vs. South, but East vs. West!
The Fighers had come to conquer the The Lovers...
In the wee hours, the camp was now its way through the wood; they traveled not in a tight band, but rather a few at a time, to make as little noise as possible. Daryl, Athena and Emlyn, along with their lieutenants, made up the rear. All carried longbow and arrow, knife and sword, and their outriders carried musket. In addition, Athena bore a long lance she had affixed to her saddle.
No sounds were heard as the last of the band followed at length after the others; not a trace of campfire, tent, horse or man remained behind. Emlyn felt the chill of early pre-dawn creep into her bones, now that the mad rush to be off was done with; simply sitting on her horse left her body prey to the morning dew and her mind to racing anxieties...
Nevertheless, after several miles of plodding along behind the rest, she began to relax into a kind of daze, nodding slightly in time to hoof beats, watching her horse's and her own breath
cloud in the frosty dawn light. She nearly felt like napping, when suddenly Athena reigned her horse in ahead of her and Daryl alighted from his mount onto the ground behind.
Athena took her spear, and slid to the side of her animal,
making herself less of a target. Emlyn followed Daryl's example and dismounted, quietly leading her pony into a thicket. All movement ceased and only the horse's breathing could be heard.
Then--
--Arrows. Seemingly from everywhere...
Emlyn barely had time to nock arrow to bow, and take flight herself, but where to run? They appeared to be surrounded...
'Aaagh!' It sounded like Athena. Emlyn dashed toward the cry, nearly getting knocked over by Daryl who rushed toward her as well; they found her propped against a large rock, with an arrow protruding from her shoulder.
'Nooo!!' Emlyn gasped, as she caught up to them. Daryl frowned at her, and shook his head. Athena looked deathly white, and her entire right side ran red with blood. Daryl knelt before Athena and murmured to her, at which she nodded, and he then proceeded to grasp the arrow and break off the end.
Athena bit her lip, as tears streamed from her eyes in pain.
Emlyn took Athena's hand and held tight, and as Daryl tossed away the arrow's shaft, he took her other hand. Emlyn looked at her friend, so unnecessary all this pain! And why? Because of the madness and ignorance of others who couldn't bear to let
people live their own lives as they each saw fit.
Our founding fathers were wrong, she realized; you couldn't outrun ignorance and prejudice and hate. It follows you everywhere. Were we to colonize the moon, idiots with guns would seek us out...waging war in the name of God And Country.
Emlyn looked into the beautiful, pain-filled eyes of her friend.
'This ends here,' she said.
. . . .
The fire was down to coals now, mostly ash. The three figures seated before it were all tossed against the sofa's back; however, somehow they had changed places: Athena was in the middle, with Emlyn beside her, grasping her hand, while Daryl flanked her other side, an arm about her shoulders, and holding her hand to his chest. All appeared to be unconscious...
Once more, Emlyn 'awoke' first. She felt ill, dizzy...she glared at The Cup; the instrument of her misery. She tried to focus on Athena, tried to recall what she and Yeats had done last time, to bring Daryl 'round...oh, she was not at all up for this...
She needed help. 'Daryl...Daryl!' She touched Daryl's arm, trying to rouse him. 'Daryl, wake up! Help me with Athena, please!' She tried to pull him upright.
A groan emerged from Daryl's lips. He nearly fell over onto Athena's lap; Em had to push him back against the sofa.
'Diego, arriba!' She shook his arm.
At last, he opened a bleary eye. 'Jo-se...Jose-phin-a...?' he frowned.
Why did he always revert to his Gypsy Other? 'Si, Diego...' she handed him his leftover coffee. 'Drink.'
Diego complied, and his gaze focused somewhat. He regarded Athena, still slumped between them.
'She won't wake!' Emlyn looked about her, and took the patchwork quilt and folded it about Athena. 'What shall we do?!' Em would save her 'I-told-you-so's' for later.
Daryl seemed to be coming 'round. He tightened his grip about Athena's shoulders and touched her face. 'Athena, cara...come back to us!' He looked at Em. 'Get a hot, wet towel, and more coffee, if there's any left. Sugar.'
Here we go again... Em stomped into the kitchen, mouth tight.
All for a game! That's all it was, Daryl and his mad diversions.
Athena should know better...
Emlyn returned, a mug of hot sweet coffee and a basin of hot water and a cloth.
'Try to wake her, gently; warm towel against her forehead and face, Em.' Daryl's usually calm demeanor looked most frayed as he surveyed the damage he'd carelessly wrought upon his dear friend.
Em wrung out the cloth and gently pressed it to Athena's forehead and temples. A soft moan was heard.
'She's conscious! O, Athena...'
Daryl stroked the silver head which lay upon his shoulder. 'Come back to us, cara mia!' He lay his head upon Athena's, and Em saw a tear fall from his eye then.
Didn't know he had it in him, she told herself. But, she knew he did have a tender side. He was usually busy desperately burying it under a ton of dross, however.
At last, Athena's eyelids slowly opened. She stared straight ahead of her and gasped, her hand went to her right shoulder as she sat forward.
'Basta, cara!' Daryl took her hand; 'It's over! You're home. You're here, with us.'
Emlyn bit her lip, to keep from biting Daryl. Again. He's done it again! Why did she ever go along with his madness? And, just look at poor Athena now...
...whose head turned to look at Emlyn, eyes vacant still, like one of her statues...
'Daryl...I shall...!' Emlyn growled at him.
'Not now!' Daryl took Athena's hands, rubbed them in his own.
'You're here with us. At the gatehouse! Cara mia, Athenina, please!'
Emlyn attempted to hold the cup of hot coffee under Athena's nose. Her eyelids fluttered and at last, she inhaled deeply and a shaky hand took the cup from Em and drank a sip.
'Diosa be praised!' Emlyn fell back, hand to her own head, and rubbed her forehead, trying to focus.
'Alright now, Athena, rica?' Daryl held her tightly, then released her. 'I'll make up the fire, shall I? You are like ice, cara...'
Emlyn tucked the quilt about Athena. 'Yes, do get the fire going, Daryl...Oh, I knew this would happen!'
Daryl looked at Em. 'You did?'
Emlyn sighed. 'No. Not specifically. But, this is not my first trip.' She glared at him. And The Cup. 'Will you put that thing away?!'
Daryl complied, tossing the velvet cloth over The Thing.
He busied himself with the fire, not relishing the aftermath he knew he couldn't dodge.
He'd asked for it. As Em would be certain to point out.
Ah, here she goes...
'...It's one thing to risk one's own neck, Daryl, but to put Athena in danger! You're too much, really, sometimes...do you ever put anyone ahead of yourself?!' Oh-oh. Em perhaps had just gone too far...
Not looking at them, crouched before the hearth, Daryl muttered,
'Sometimes.'
Em knew she had best leave things be for now. 'I'm going to get something to eat, for Athena. She is probably somewhat in shock, still. Sugar...an apple...' Emlyn began rummaging about the kitchen.
Daryl went to Athena. 'Come, cherie...' He helped her to lie down, a plump pillow neath her head.
'Ah! The blood!' Athena cried, arising abruptly.
'Non, non, ma chere'! It's alright. There is no blood, see? You are here now, at home. Let's lie down, now, yes?' Daryl's face was pinched with pain and concern. He made her lie back, and knelt beside her, dabbing her forehead with the moist cloth. Athena's eyes stared before her, at seemingly nothing.
Emlyn was beside them. 'See if she'll take a bite of apple. Try the coffee first.'
Daryl did, and Athena seemed to come round to the scent. She drank, and then did take a small bite of fruit.
'I think she'll be alright.' He stroked her cheek softly.
'I AM here, you know!' Athena's gaze pierced him suddenly. 'You needn't speak as though I'm elsewhere!'
'Diosa be thanked!' Daryl smiled at her and cupped his hands to her face, kissing her. 'You're back!'
. . . .
