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The Flower Daughter
The Flower Daughter
The Flower Daughter
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The Flower Daughter

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What is forgiveness and how do you reach the point of forgiving another? In prehistoric Britain, Ani and her estranged father are living in the time when the culture of goddess worship is being violently overthrown by the followers of Thor, the god with no mother.

Spurred by the new religion, Ani’s father publicly rapes her; thereby stealing her personal power and lineage. After several years in exile, Ani is charged by her mentor to give her father the kiss of peace. She believes herself capable of doing this until she actually confronts him and instead, gives way to anger. The resulting conflict propels Ani through lifetime after lifetime of unresolved confrontations.

Whether Ani is a female or a male, her life will always be brushed by this Other spirit.

Historically researched, The Flower Daughter is the story of an independent spirit through seven incarnations.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherRose Lobel
Release dateDec 13, 2017
ISBN9781370490851
The Flower Daughter
Author

Rose Lobel

K. R. Lobel has had poetry and short stories published in The Blue Moon Review, The Porter Gulch Review and Matrix Magazine. More of her poetry can be read at the national poetry site Locuspoint.org (Volume 3, San Francisco.) She spent seven years doing research for The Flower Daughter.

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    The Flower Daughter - Rose Lobel

    CHAPTER ONE

    The Thread of the Necklace

    England 4000 B. C. E. to 2700 B. C. E.

    As the ice receded, the people wandered north across the land-bridge and arrived in the land of the red deer and the sweet, warm wind.

    The people were small-boned and sinewy, their eyes set wide apart and pale. Mats of auburn-red hair hung around their long, oval faces. Like the wild herds they followed, they passed over the chalk plains leaving no impression. When they died, their flesh was carried away by scavengers and the lush grasses tangled through their bones.

    With every birth and death, with each new feeling, the people struggled to give form to their world. Their forgotten voices echo, giving form and reality to the first human thoughts and experiences.

    The land is so big. I walk. The cold comes. We die.

    I travel the earth with four-foots who are equal in life with me yet I am given that life for food.

    Life exists. A big animal comes. The cold. I die. But life exists. Another animal comes. I kill. The food is good. Life exists.

    I love these children. The old ones. The other. I love this sky above my head. The feel of dirt against my feet.

    I love what is within me.

    I trip on a root. A light flashes in my eyes and I bite the root. My bleeding mouth is soothed.

    Here is fire. I offer it. Here is food. I offer it.

    It will never be known if these first thoughts came to a male or a female, at what age, or prompted by what incident. It was these seconds of wonder, humility, fear, and gratitude that created the first seeds of all human religions to follow; and from these moments also came the birth of the great goddess, Anu.

    Because it was apparent to everyone that men and women were different from each other, and the most obvious difference was in the magic of the women. A woman could bleed and not die, her body could swell and produce new life; and no one knew why.

    The answer that seemed most obvious to all observers was that all creation came from a cosmic womb. When the body died, it decomposed and became soil and grass. The grass was eaten by animals who were eaten in turn by humans and, logically, the spirit of life passed from one to the next. In this the way, the vast Wheel of Creation displayed itself.

    When the cold and ice threatened to return, the people huddled and hide-covered depressions in the ground, and dreamed the birth of Anu; the goddess of creation.

    The world had become real and alive because things were given names, and most named things held the personalities of gods and goddesses within them; and all were the children of Anu.

    Because it was Anu, the mother, who dominated their imaginations and prayers, it is not surprising that certain women grew to become interpreters of the goddess. So began the priestesshood.

    CHAPTER TWO

    Before The Hill

    2900 B. C. E.

    G randmothers and Uncles, I’ve been given a dream from the goddess, Anu. The haunted face of the high priestess, Klava, shimmered in the red firelight, her eyes glowed with an ethereal passion.

    A thousand years before the concept of queen would come into being, Klava called this momentous meeting of the united clans’ elders.

    Several gray heads nodded approval at her announcement. Only Edarnon, Klava’s mother, stared into the flames as if she were in a trance.

    In the dream, I stepped into a holy pit of vipers and ... Klava’s voice faltered, she cleared her throat, ... and I was bitten three times. Then Anu appeared in the form of a sacred serpent. She said, ’From this will come your future.’ And then she was gone.

    There was movement among the elders now, as if suddenly none of them could sit in comfort. Withered lips pressed together, and pale eyes nervously searched the ground. The last sacrifice of a living priestess was only an ancient memory. That this priestess would request it was horrifying.

    The eldest member of the council, Slad, studied Edarnon’s tight face before she rose to address Klava.

    I remember when the omens told us you should be high priestess, she croaked. "We were startled that a girl of only thirteen would be chosen, especially when your mother was alive, and serving us well.

    But we all knew, Slad’s gaze indicated the council, that you had a pure heart and that the omens would never lie. You have surpassed our expectations. If this dream is truly the will of the goddess, I cannot deny her wishes.

    Slowly, one by one, the rest of the elders nodded their agreement. When they came to full consensus the council filed out of the warm hut and into the frosty night, leaving Klava with her silent, unmoving mother.

    * * *

    If the sacrifice was to be pleasing to the goddess, many preparations would need to be made. Klava, who was twenty-two, had a nine-year-old daughter, Ueda, the knowing one. Ueda would be named high priestess when Klava died, but because she had not yet passed her moon ceremony, personal guardians and advisers had to be appointed. Klava’s brother, Artcois, Bear’s Leg, would act as his niece’s consort until Ueda started her menstrual cycle, went through the moon ceremony, and joined with a younger consort to lead her people in summer mating.

    Klava found that one of her most difficult tasks was to prepare Ueda to lead the annual rituals as the new high priestess while explaining why this change had to be. Every day Klava held her child tightly in her arms, trying to find the right words to say good-bye.

    She herself needed to go through a period of purification to face the trial Anu had chosen her for, and her body must be marked to receive the sacred bites.

    When the tattooing began, she screamed and cried -- as much out of the fear of being pierced as from actual pain. Edarnon and the grandmothers stayed with her, speaking softly, looking into her eyes, and reminding her of Anu’s gift of breath.

    As the days passed, her ability to focus on only the breath flowing in and out of her body became the power that enabled her to reach the world of Anu. A world that existed beyond fear and pain, where birth and death seemed to fade into one, and only the strength and assuredness of Anu existed.

    Since it was late winter, the council decided the ordeal would take place three days after Beltane, the feast of the sun god, when the lambs and calves had been born and the herds set out to pasture.

    On that designated morning, the sun rose in a purple and orange haze, and the hills reverberated with a red-brown glow. The procession of elders started from the camp.

    First came Edarnon, the giver, her hair streaked with white. She walked quietly through the mist, brushing the wings of doves and quail that were feeding in the grass. They flew around and away from her, as if they were flowing from her outstretched hands, accompanying her eastward course.

    Her slow advance took her through a small valley, where a doe and fawn trotted by her side for a few feet, unused to her presence, yet not alarmed.

    Next came Klava, the first rays of the sun revealing her in detail. Her body had been tattooed with blue dye from the woad plant. Sacred signs covered her face and throat; they ran over her breasts and down her arms. Designs permeated the skin over the long bones of her legs and around her ankles and toes. Each dot of color represented a symbol of dedication to Anu, and the prick of a bone needle.

    Like most of her generation, Klava had suffered from scurvy brought about when early frosts killed the wild roses before they could form rose hips. The disease caused the bones of her lower legs to curve slightly and her knees to swell in a way that accented the tattoos covering them.

    Her hair was coated with liquids of water and soil in alternating stripes of white chalk and red ocher; sacred, because it was considered the dried menstrual blood of the goddess.

    Around Klava’s waist was a short skirt made from the hide of a white sow, and pinned with a polished thorn of deer antler. Her blue-gray eyes seemed to focus on a point beyond the horizon, her bare feet moved silently over her mother’s path.

    Behind Klava walked Ueda, escorted by Bear’s Leg and Klava’s consort, Masgegra, the living Bel, who carried a rope made of the same sow’s hide, the most powerful and revered symbol of Anu. He and Artcois would use it to retrieve Klava’s body, should she fall or die beyond their reach.

    Finally came the council of elders walking through the gathering light. Around them, on every knoll and rock, the people of the united clans stood waiting. As the sun lit their faces, each one began chanting a low note that was repeated over and over, too simple for harmony yet overwhelming in its deep vibration. Nearby, the restless herds seemed to join the chant.

    In an open grotto, formed by glacial ice shearing away the eastern side of a hillock, the warming rocks lured the vipers from their sleeping places. The group arrived at the crest of the hillock in time to watch the snakes slide out into the open. Edarnon tied the end of the rope around Klava’s waist with a strong bow.

    * * *

    Of the twelve children Edarnon had borne, Klava was the last living daughter. Her two oldest girls had died while giving birth, one at seventeen, the other at twelve.

    Interspersed between them, two girls and three boys had died of the wasting disease before reaching the age of three. She had nursed a shivering nine-year-old son for many days, as she watched the poison from a deep cut travel up his arm in a thin, red line of death. Now, watching her last child walk toward the end of life, the faces of all her other children seemed to float in front of her eyes.

    Edarnon also envisioned herself holding the newborn Klava close to her heart as she instructed her older daughters in the duties of the high priestess; telling them of the sacrifices they would have to make while secretly thinking, But this one is mine. I get to keep this one.

    Great Anu, Edarnon prayed, I am the one who has tried to steal one of your children from you. Please do not hold this against her. I don’t understand why this dream has come to my child ... your child ... but hold her in your arms. She is your high priestess, more devoted to you than anything I could imagine. Please, see her faithfulness, guide and protect her. She is coming to you.

    But to her own ancestors she prayed, If I’m to lose one more, allow her death to have honor and meaning. If she must die, keep fear out of her heart and help her bear the pain. And please, Wise Ones, allow me to still feel love for Anu when this is over.

    These visions and prayers slid through Edarnon’s mind, as the rope connecting her to Klava slid through her fingers. She stood with the clans as they watched their priestess start the decent down the fine, white scree to the plateau of boulders wedged in the crevice below.

    * * *

    Klava did not consider herself a brave person. When the goddess Anu first brought the dream, it caused her to awaken with a silent scream, just as now the sight of snakes writhing in the sun caused her throat to constrict and her hands to tremble. It was not bravery that propelled her over the edge of the slope, and the concept of nobility only applied to deities.

    She had never expected to ascend to a position of leadership. For the first ten years of her life, her two older sisters received intensive training and instruction while she played in the dirt or on her mother’s lap. The constant murmur of voices, not directed at her, blended with her mother’s heartbeat to become the inner sounds of her childhood.

    When she was three years old, her mother heard her singing about the fate and duties of the appointed one, she scooped Klava into her arms, tickling her and blowing into her ears to make her forget. But, although Edarnon filled her child’s ears with funny songs and stories during the day, Anu whispered in Klava’s dreams at night.

    As Klava grew toward womanhood she felt her spirit expanding. It became a channel, constantly opening wider. She was absorbed deeper and deeper into the goddess’s realm, but just as deeply into the world of her people.

    Finally, it seemed to her that the goddess was staring from behind her own face as if it were a mask. That her hands, when preparing potions for the sick or laying the altar, were moved by a Will that was more than her own. And too, she felt the life force of everyone around her beating like a pulse through her body.

    Klava knew the duties that were expected of her, and she knew that she had been doubly chosen – first, by the goddess, to be Anu’s voice on earth, and then by her people, who expected her to portray them favorably to the deity.

    This choosing was both a gift and an obligation. At times Klava’s spirit swelled with exaltation. At times her head would bow in humility at the honor of giving such great service.

    But to fulfill the function of such an honor, she must follow the bidding of the goddess wherever that would take her. There could be no choice or hesitation, even if fulfilling the expectations of both her worlds meant death. It was not bravery that impelled Klava to descend over the warming rocks, it was the release of all doubt; the unwavering faith that whatever lay ahead, everything would be as it was supposed to be.

    * * *

    The first serpent struck as Klava slid through the powdery gravel near the edge of the rocks. It bit her ankle on a symbol of the Circle of Life. She gasped, and her body jerked as the venom entered her tattooed leg.

    For an instant, she wondered if she would betray herself and scream in horror, but no, the viper’s fangs were only a little sharper and deeper than the needles that had done the tattooing. These were Anu’s serpent messengers, the means of receiving the goddess’ true voice.

    The beat of her heart began pulsating as if it came from outside of her body, and the poison rushing through her blood brought earnest whispers to her ears. The soft voices became clearer until she could recognize them as her sisters, beckoning her toward them with words of love and encouragement.

    The second snake lunged as she lowered herself between two boulders. Its fangs sank into the inside of her elbow, through a tattooed symbol of the people standing side by side.

    The sacred serpents would pick the symbols to be read. If she was unable to speak, other priestesses would interpret the message. In the event that she could not leave the plateau by herself, Masgegra and Artcois would have to wait until all the snakes passed by her body, so the message would not be confused by too many punctures. It would be the greatest honor, however, if she could speak about her vision in her own voice.

    The revival of Klava’s inner sound brought with it the memory of being cradled in her mother’s arms, of hearing Edarnon croon that Anu would never test them beyond what they could endure. Klava had always believed her mother, and now, flowing from Anu’s secret world, came the certainty that this was, in truth, not beyond what she could endure and she was filled with awe. She was not alone. She was moving beyond any tendril of fear that might follow her.

    The movement of her falling body caused the third snake to strike. Puncturing the flesh between her right arm and breast, it marked a symbol of the goddess breathing life through her nostrils, and another symbol for the mother’s body feeding her child.

    In front of her, she could see the ancestors standing with their arms outstretched and touching, allowing her to see beyond, but not to pass.

    Behind the ancestors was Anu. Her eyes were bright and calm; from her breasts flowed sparkling water that would soothe and heal the burn of snake venom.

    Klava could see everything: the viper pit and the people she had known and loved all her life, but she felt herself moving toward those soft, nurturing breasts. Still, the arms of the ancestors kept her from traveling forward to the heart of the goddess.

    As the sun approached its zenith, Masgegra, no longer able to watch Klava’s unmoving body, leaped down the embankment and carried her up. Several people followed him over the edge and formed a line to assist. The snakes, sluggish with heat, paid little attention.

    * * *

    For three days Klava journeyed between the world of the ancestors and the world of the clans. The council of elders took turns staying by her side, brushing her lips with cool water when she writhed with fever, covering her with furs when she was chilled. Two members of the council sat by her head at all times, memorizing the words she uttered when she was conscious or when Anu spoke through her.

    When, at last, Anu’s entire message was delivered and the goddess had given the rough details of the plan she wanted carried out, the ancestors lowered their arms and Klava passed into the cool softness of creation.

    Her body was wrapped in the skin of a white cow and placed on a large funeral pyre built in an open field. When the fire had spent itself, Ueda and Edarnon sifted through the cooled ashes to find her skull and the long bones of her arms and legs; members of her family took turns polishing them while the people fasted.

    Her bones were not placed in one of the slate niches that filled their tribe’s tomb, layer upon layer. Rather, they were placed in a crevice that had been made at the entrance, high above the doorway to the crypt, where they would never be covered by other burials.

    * * *

    It was not only Klava’s tribe who gathered for the funeral. Many neighboring clans came to attend the ceremonies, and from far away, other families sent emissaries, some traveled on foot for as long as three weeks. So, when Edarnon and the council of elders climbed to the top of a small knoll and announced the plan to build an everlasting symbol of the goddess, there was instantly an inspired workforce of men and women ready to begin the project.

    Anu’s monument was a breast-shaped, human-made hill, which rose a hundred and thirty feet high and covered an area of five-and-a-half acres. Its center was filled with wooden rounds, obtained by the controlled burning and pounding of trees that grew many miles to the northwest. A wide and deep ditch surrounded it.

    The spirits of the men and women who worked cutting trees and moving soil were not dampened by the fact that they had only antler picks and sharpened strips of flint for tools. The greater challenge came from being able to keep a crew of five hundred supplied with materials, food, and shelter, while those same people were absent from the production of materials, food, and shelter.

    The answer to this challenge was to become, for the first time, an organized society with distinct groups: one that only hunted food, one to gather food, one each to scout and prepare building materials, and, most importantly, a force of young, strong workers who could assist the builders in the off seasons, but travel quickly to out-laying areas at times of abundant harvests or hunting. These young people could also be called on in case of hostile threats by distant tribes. However, as the story of Klava’s sacrifice spread, it became more prestigious to contribute food and workers than to fight.

    At the end of the eighteen years it took to build Anu’s monument, representatives gathered to dedicate the hill that has stood for five thousand years on the plain of Silbury.

    * * *

    In the seventeenth year of construction, there was a meeting of the council of elders. Klava’s daughter, the high priestess Ueda, knelt in their circle, her head bowed in respect. Behind her sat her three young daughters, paying rapt attention to their mother.

    An animated discussion filled the room as the elders filed into the hut. Finally they sat on their benches and settled down.

    It must be duly noted, said Grainne, the oldest grandmother, that the Hill will soon be finished. Also, it must be apparent to almost everyone, here she frowned in the direction of Yaspaddaden, the representative of the Daumonii tribe, that in our desire to create a solid monument, we have created a blossoming and productive society.

    The murmur of dry voices and the nodding of heads accompanied this statement.

    The question has arisen, Grainne continued, as to what we will do when the Hill is finished. I would humbly suggest that we cannot go backwards to the time before we attained this unity. We must proceed with the building of another monument, and it must be close to the first so that the work-force can stay together.

    Yes, I had imagined you would say that, Yaspaddaden blurted loudly. Your tribe has everything to gain, all the wealth and tribute come to your territory.

    That’s right, shouted Lossio of the Ordovices. We in the northwest have nothing to do with this plan. Why should we support you in gaining honors and wealth?

    Several more voices echoed agreement with his question.

    You old fools are ignoring the truth. It was Drosten, representative of the Cornouii tribe. We of the northeast would seem to have no advantage either, but stop and think a moment. What was life like for us before we began this project? You, Diarmaid, wasn’t your tribe always at war with the Salluvii?

    An old man grumbled in the affirmative.

    And you, Mumain, your tribe wasn’t collecting any tribute from traders passing through, were they?

    There was another reluctant nod, this time from an old woman.

    Who among us cannot concede that the energy we’ve put forth in making this monument has taken on its own life? Drosten looked at each member waiting for an answer. No one can disagree that we have created something beyond ourselves. It must continue.

    After the meeting, Idarnain, Ueda’s youngest daughter, said she saw Drosten wink at Grainne, but Idarnain was only four, so Ueda couldn’t be sure this was true. In the years to come, however, she did notice that issues and projects concerning Drosten’s province seemed to get top priority.

    * * *

    In the end, there was a unanimous vote to build another monument. At the request of Ueda and the priestesses of Anu, it would be in the shape of the circle of life; in honor of the first symbol the goddess had picked on Klava’s body.

    The priests of Bel chose a site that foretold power and accordance with the night sky. It was on a rolling green plain, two miles from a large river.

    The first version of the circle was a ditch that enclosed one hundred fifteen yards; an earthen bank, six by twenty feet, formed its outside perimeter. A walkway had been left undug in the northeast section and tall standing stones formed arches leading to the center.

    Inside the circle, fifty-six holes were dug and refilled with powdery chalk and stones, so nothing could ever grow in them again. Near the edges of the circle four more large stones formed a rectangle.

    By this time Ueda was dead. Her daughter officiated at the opening ceremony, and her great-granddaughters continued the line after that.

    * * *

    In the land of the Iceni tribe, several miles northeast of the circle, vast flint deposits were found, resulting in huge mines dug with antler picks and flint axes.

    The Iceni would have become the richest and most powerful tribe of the alliance, except that they were forced to depend on Klava’s tribe, the Atrebates, for deer antlers.

    As a tribute to Klava, and to the circle, most of the northern tribes granted her clan exclusive trading rights. Since the northern forests were where the bucks happened to be every year when they shed their antlers, the Atrebates had a monopoly.

    At the circle, the sacred marriage was performed every year; lands, cattle, and hunting equipment continued to be amassed. Life went on.

    And then an interesting thing happened.

    From the shores of France and beyond came the Cro-Magnon Celts.

    They came as settlers, and they were readily able, and even excited, to adapt themselves to the local customs and beliefs -- just as they were in all the other lands they had invaded.

    If the people of the island traced their lineage through their mothers, no difficulties were presented to the newcomers. They memorized and honored the relatives, not only of their mothers, but also of their mothers’ husbands whom they called Fathers.

    The islanders worshiped Anu as the Great Creatress, and the settlers worshiped a grain goddess named Dannu; so neither people were required to endure cultural contortions to abide in peace.

    The invaders were bigger boned and sturdier than the local people, so when the time came to build the

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