Gnarl: A Sword and Sandals Allegory

1.

The Selection

The selection process took place three days before the start of spring. The young men, who were in their sixteenth year and had done four years of training and service in the Lord Genet’s army, prepared themselves for the day. They bathed and dressed in their meticulously cleaned uniforms, donned their helmets, buckled on their swords, took up their spears and assembled in the barracks. This year there were twenty-one young men who faced selection.

The unusual interest by the people of the City State in this year’s selection process was because the Lord Genet’s only son, Generis, would take part. Many cynical members of the population thought that the selection might be compromised in some way. Surely the Lord Genet would not allow his only son to be selected? The people were alert and prepared to watch each stage of the process, with renewed interest, to see if one rule would apply for their sons and another for the son of the Lord Genet.

For Generis, as he prepared for the day, there were no thoughts of being favoured or being somehow removed from the ballot. He would take his place with his young brothers in arms, who had been through so much together in the past four years. They had endured harsh discipline and strenuous training and one of them would be selected this day. If it was to be him, thought Generis, then so be it. He would accept his fate and be stoic and brave as he played out his part in the legend and the lore of the City State.

None of the young men spoke as they stood in their ranks. They were resplendent in their uniforms and the entire contingent of first, second, and third year recruits had formed a guard of honour to farewell them. When the gates to the barracks opened they knew they must march proudly and well into the square. Many families would be waiting to see them, secretly hoping that their son would not be the one selected, but steeling themselves against that possibility.

The gates swung open and the order was given for the twenty-one to move out and march into the square. The people of the City State had turned out in large numbers and almost every vantage point was taken. The Lord Genet and his entourage had already taken their places on the landing in front of the temple above the square. From their position a flight of stairs led down to the area in the square, which had been designated for the candidates. This was a rectangle defined by armed soldiers, who also guarded against any encroachment by the crowd.

The young men marched into the square and proceeded to the rectangle. The soldiers, who guarded the rectangle, parted and allowed the twenty-one to march in. In a well-practiced drill they formed up into five ranks of four with the fifth rank accommodating a fifth young man who made up the number. They faced the Lord Genet and stood to attention. The Lord Genet stood and acknowledged the group. His eyes scanned the twenty-one faces and found his own son, Generis, among their ranks. The Lord Genet knew this was going to be the most difficult selection process over which he had presided. He sat down with a heavy heart. Of course there may be no need for his melancholy anticipation, but like all families that face this day, he must be prepared. The cynics, who were not directly involved this year, were waiting to see what stratagem, trick, or deception, would be used to prevent the Lord Genet’s son from being selected.

The Priest of the City State came to the front of the platform and held up his arms in a signal that the crowd should fall silent and they did. He spoke in a strong voice that was audible all around the square:

We bless the twenty-one young men who present themselves for selection today. As you know one will be chosen and he will give up his life in honour of our Gods on the first day of spring in three days time. We thank the one who is chosen for this sacrifice and admire him for his bravery in facing this trial.

Applause broke out around the crowd and was sustained. The twenty-one each felt their heart swell with the pride the City State people had expressed in them. Tempering this was the lingering doubt and fear that they would be the one selected and they would have to give up their life in three days time. Generis focussed on his father, the Lord Genet. He loved that man and he knew what today must mean to him. If it was to be his lot then Generis determined he would not disgrace his father in front of the people.

The Priest’s Acolytes then joined him at the front of the platform. One held a black velvet bag; the other two had woven baskets containing white and black stones. The Priest went firstly to the Acolyte with the black stones and selected just one. The Acolyte retired and the Priest held the black stone up to show the people. There was an anticipatory gasp. Then the Priest placed the black stone into the velvet bag. Turning to the basket of white stones the Priest selected twenty, one by one and placed them in the velvet bag. The cynics had watched all this carefully. Had some sleight of hand, conjuring trick, or piece of prestidigitation been set up in front of their eyes to prevent the Lord Genet’s son from choosing the black stone? They would soon know.

The Priest followed by the Acolyte with the velvet bag, now descended the stairs and the rectangle of armed guards parted to allow them into the protected space. The moment had arrived. The Priest did not delay. He moved to the first young man standing in the front rank, spoke briefly an inaudible message of thanks and blessing, and invited him to draw a stone from the velvet bag. The Acolyte held the bag above eye level and the young soldier placed his hand into the bag clutched the first stone he felt and withdrew it. The stone in his hand was white. A cry of relief and joy came from a small group in the crowd who realised their son had not been selected and would be alive to enjoy the spring and many more springs in the future. The young man kept the stone and the guards parted to allow him to join his family and watch the rest of the selection process from beyond the rectangle.

The process continued in this way until twelve young men had left the rectangle clutching their white stones. When the Priest stood before Generis and the Acolyte held the bag above his eye line the cynics and the entire crowd waited in heightened anticipation. Generis reached into the velvet bag clutched the first stone he fingered and withdrew it. His heart sank as he saw he had drawn the black stone. When he showed it to the crowd there was an audible sigh of disbelief. The cynics were surprised. The Lord Genet’s heart hardened. Generis stood completely still and stared straight ahead without focussing. Immediately the remaining eight young men turned and marched out of the rectangle to join their family and friends. Generis stood alone.

The Priest’s two other Acolytes came down the stairs one carrying a plain white cotton loincloth. When the three Acolytes had joined the Priest they stood in front of Generis. The Priest asked him to hand over his spear and unbuckle his sword. An Acolyte carefully held these weapons. Next Generis removed his helmet. His hair was dark brown and cut formally in a soldier’s style. An Acolyte then removed his breastplate and armour. The other Acolyte knelt and untied his marching sandals. The armour that girded his loins was unbuckled and taken away. Now Generis stood in just his grey soldier’s tunic. The Priest asked him to remove this himself. All that Generis was now clad in was the tight fitting white undergarment that hid his manhood. The people were transfixed and stood in silence staring at a Lord’s son being stripped of his worldly station. Generis was of average height and his build was solid. After four years of military training his muscularity was well defined. His skin was smooth and hairless and slightly pale. What most struck the crowd was the way he stared straight ahead without flinching.

The Acolyte holding the cotton loincloth now moved in front of Generis. He prepared the cloth in his hands for tying. When the Acolyte signalled to him Generis removed his undergarment and for a brief moment was naked in front of the assembled people of the City State. The Acolyte fitted the loincloth with dexterity and tied and presented the front flap with practiced skill. He then stood back.

Generis, the Lord Genet’s son, stood alone in the middle of the square. Selected as the spring sacrifice he had been ceremonially reduced from young soldier to a sacrificial youth in a white loincloth. He knew what lay ahead of him in the next three days and he was already mentally preparing himself for those trials. The Priest produced a golden cord from inside his own garments and asked Generis to present his hands in front of him. The Priest tied his hands in a knot that symbolised he was now attached to a fate from which he could not be released. The journey that would lead to his ceremonial sacrifice had begun.

The Priest turned and began to walk from the rectangle. Generis fell in behind him and an Acolyte took up a position either side of him. The final Acolyte fell in behind Generis. They walked up the stairs passing the Lord Genet who stared straight ahead as did Generis. The crowd was reverently silent until the small procession moved inside the temple pillars and disappeared into the darkness inside. From there the Acolytes took charge of Generis and escorted him down the several flights of stairs that led to the temple dungeon where he was placed in an isolation cell. During all of this time Generis had not spoken, cried out, or struggled in anyway. He was wedded to his fate and he had three more days of life to contemplate.

2.

The Isolation Cell and the Bathing Chamber

When Generis’ eyes had adjusted to the light, he found a stool in the centre of the cell and sat down. He rested his right elbow on his right knee and leaned his head on his right hand. His left elbow was lying on his left thigh. He felt alone and afraid. All his hopes had evaporated. He was the Lord Genet’s son and yet he would be dead on the first day of spring in his sixteenth year. Generis tried to console himself with his knowledge of the legend and the lore and that many before him had faced this sacrifice and the City State had prospered because the Gods had been appeased and pleased. He wondered did all those young men feel like he did now when they had been selected?

Time was lost in this windowless place, but some hours later he was served a satisfying meal. After the meal had been cleared away he was asked whether he would like to bathe? The habits of a lifetime were strong and he said he would. He was asked to follow two Acolytes to the bathing chamber. It was two sets of stairs up from the isolation cell in the dungeon.

The bathing chamber was a large and beautiful room. The Priest, his Acolytes and all the Novice boys who had chosen the priesthood as their vocation all used the bathing chamber. Everyone in the temple bathed everyday. The room itself had a vaulted ceiling that was supported by a line of marble columns that formed an internal cloister around the bathing pool. There was a distance of about one man’s length from the edge of the pool to the cloistered columns. The pool itself was a square with the length of four men on each side. It was filled with stream water that ran along an aqueduct from the hills behind the temple. When the water reached the temple it was channelled through a series of pipes that passed through a bed of burning coals. It was the Novice boys’ task to keep the coals fired by periodically pumping the bellows. As a result the pool water was always temperately warm.

Artificially lit with flaming torches, the bathing chamber was tiled throughout in a striking mosaic pattern in colours of red, gold, green blue and white. On shelves around the outside walls were displays of bathing oils and salts and stacks of towelling sheets. When Generis was ushered into the bathing chamber there was no one else there.

Without asking him the Acolytes removed his cotton loincloth and began smoothing beautifully scented oils over his body. It was a feeling he had not felt for a long time. Bathing in the military, as a young soldier, was a matter of fact and pragmatic affair, but he did recall as the son of a Lord being treated in this way in his youth. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensual experience. When they had applied the bathing oils the Acolytes stood back which caused Generis to open his eyes and see the Acolytes were motioning that he should enter the pool.

The pool was warm and the combined effect of the water temperature and the bathing oils washed his thoughts from him and his mind drifted. When he came back to reality the Acolytes were holding towelling sheets and they gestured for him to come out of the pool. The Acolytes dried his body and a fresh loincloth was applied and tied with care, dexterity and a gentle touch. When he thought it was time to follow the Acolytes back to the isolation cell he looked up and saw his father, the Lord Genet, standing at the entrance to the bathing chamber. His father spoke with authority:

Leave us!

The Acolytes bowed and scurried away leaving the Lord Genet to face his son for the first time since the selection. It would have been improper to have approached the Lord and embrace him as Generis longed to do, so he just waited on the older man’s pleasure.

You behaved admirably throughout the selection process, Generis. I was as proud as a father could be in those circumstances. I was also as proud as a Lord could be that the legend and the lore was not challenged or denigrated by anything that happened.

Generis was choking back his tears, but he continued to do and say the right things:

Thank you, my Lord. Thank you my father.

Now the Lord Genet came closer to his son. He had no intention of touching Generis; it would break both their hearts. The small distance that existed between them would give them both separation and strength.

Are you being treated well?

I am my Lord.

Are you aware of what you face over the next few days before the first day of spring?

I am my Lord. At the military barracks we were instructed and drilled in all the procedures during the days leading up to the selection process.

Good.

The Lord Genet was thoughtful and then he decided to use his position on behalf of his son in a way that he would not have done for any other candidate.

I require some truthful answers to some difficult questions, my son.

I have always tried to be truthful with you my Lord and my father.

There was a sustained pause before the Lord Genet spoke again.

You are my son. Have you ever been with a girl or a woman?

Generis’s body stiffened at the question, but he decided to be truthful.

No, I have not.

Then there are no bastard grandchildren of mine, that are unknown to me?

No, there are not.

I should like my son to have the opportunity to have a son of his own and give me a grandchild. Would you be prepared to try to do that in the short time that remains?

I am my father’s son and my Lord’s servant. I will do as you wish.

The Lord Genet was thoughtful.

I do not want a bastard grandson born after your sacrifice. Is there any girl or young woman who you would favour as a bride?

Generis looked down a little embarrassed by his lack of experience with women.

No my Lord, there is no one.

Would you allow me to choose a bride for you?

I am my father’s son and my Lord’s servant. I will accept whomsoever you choose.

Can you guide me my son as to how I might choose such a young woman?

Generis thought carefully for a while and then looked his father full in the face. His eyes were shining, but they were clear:

I would like you to choose a common girl from the poorest part of the City State. I only ask that she be no younger, or no older than I am.

You would have to marry the chosen girl here and consummate the marriage in some part of the temple. If the Gods favour this union and she falls pregnant your memory and our family will be blessed.

Would the young woman be treated as the wife of the son of a Lord after my sacrifice?

She would.

And if she doesn’t conceive a child by our union?

I would guarantee to provide a suitable dowry for the young widow to marry again to whomsoever she chooses.

Generis almost smiled. His impending death would be sweetened by a marriage to a young woman he had never met and who he would only know for a day at the most. It was almost as exciting as it was sad. The Lord Genet confirmed the arrangements.

A young woman of your age, from a common and lowly background, will be brought to you tomorrow to become your wife. She will stay with you overnight so the marriage may be consummated.

Generis interrupted:

And one other thing.

Ask it?

My new wife must be present on the first day of spring to watch me accept my death by sacrifice. She must promise this before she comes to me.

The Lord Genet was moved.

I have a thoughtful and brave son. Hopefully I will have a grandson just like him.

If it is the Gods’ will, my father and my Lord, it shall be so!

Generis now stood almost at attention in front of his father. As his Lord looked at him, newly bathed and standing in just a loincloth, he wondered about the power of the legend and the lore and whether the loss of such valuable young men each year at this time, in this way, was in fact what the Gods wanted. He strengthened his resolve and farewelled his son.

"Goodbye Generis. Endure your sacrifice well and join the Gods with all