The Priestess - a short Story

A novel dedicated to the late Par Lagerkvist, who taught me the power of simple writing, and who gave a perfect description of the pagan mind.

Chapter 1

The year was between 20 and 40AD. The location: a village on a northern island. The temperature was neither hot nor cold, but colder than hotter.

Two men remained bowed before a large stone, until someone came to inform them that they were relieved of their duty for the day. It was a special day for the people of the village. A special ritual would be performed. For this reason it was not necessary for the two men of the village to bow before the stone that had been dropped ‘by the gods’ years ago in fierce flames. The people of the village believed that if they kept a watch before the stone, certain gods would not punish them again. Today, however, they believed that if all the people did not participate in the ritual, certain other gods would punish them for that.

The gods were juggling them constantly, but they had no choice. The gods were smarter and stronger. The goddess of destruction, for example, was not to be messed with.

All of the people began to move slowly and without any thought towards the garden site. It might seem like a holiday from work, but everyone knew it was no holiday. This was a necessary evil, at best. The King was beginning to slouch, his skin was dry and rumpled, and his visage was becoming undesirable. The nature goddess, married to the King, was getting old along with him and wasn’t happy anymore. However old he became was how old she became also. The nature goddess required a virile, handsome, young man as her king.

As long as the nature goddess remained young, the crops would grow and nature would be kind to the people. If she became old, the crops would fail, animals would die, and nature would be harsh. Of course, nature had treated them harshly while the king was young, but no one had a truly good explanation for that.

The people were still meandering to the garden site where they knew that they would observe a ritual, which they did not find undesirable, since none of them were required to participate. It was fairly good sport for them and they rather liked it. The only undesirable factor was facing, once again, THE PRIESTESS! Everyone shuddered at the thought.

She received the title ‘priestess’ only because she was second in power to the high god ‘Gragon.’ She promised protection from the wrath of the ‘Great Spirit.’ Each person only need submit to her because of the agreement she had made with him.

As they approached the ritual grounds they thought again of the ways that she dominated or even controlled their lives. The priestess sought to embody, to some degree, the goddess of nature. Yet, it was the goddess of destruction that she reminded them of.

Young men were her great pastime. She exulted in their desire for her, and longed for nothing more than their sleek perfection, their rugged attractiveness and their physical abilities, which were demonstrated to her personally.

She had taken a fancy for the husband of a young maiden who was pregnant. She let him know that he was hers and that he had no say in the matter. He vowed never to touch her, but as a result, she put a curse on his wife and the baby was born dead and grotesquely deformed.

The priestess then got her way with him. There was nothing she could not have through her occult powers.

She favored men, not women. Her treatment of women was far more severe than her treatment of men. The priestess was in favor of the slavery of women to men, and if any woman dared to flirt with one of the priestess’ prized court members, she got her nose cut off. The priestess despised most women, but considered them a fair contest for her superiority. She subjugated them to cruel humiliation. Some were used for other men, but none could approach the men she had chosen for herself.

You could say that she ruled the people. Yes, she even ruled the King, for whom she had lost desire. In fact, she now felt contempt towards him.

The rulers of the larger kingdom from the south had sort of left this part of the island alone. The priestess had somehow been able to continue to have her control, like her mother and grandmother before her.

There was some man she had once loved, once upon a time, but the details were blurred. All they knew was that he hadn’t loved her and that she had put him to death. Some say before him she had an element of humanity left in her. There was some talk of a child, whisked away in miscarriage, but that was a rumor. No one knew for sure.

No one dared to cross her knowing that even if they never saw her personally, she had the power to destroy them with her witchcraft.

No one chose to leave the kingdom of the priestess because they didn’t know there was anything else. It never occurred to them.

Yet, in spite of all that has been said about the priestess, no one knew about a dream that she had been having her whole life, and never understood. No one ever heard this dream, and she never wanted anyone to know about it. She held everyone in the grip of fear and the dream would certainly change that.

She dreamed of being a young maiden in a beautiful place that had more light than this place where it rained and poured and was dreary so often. She dreamed that there were beautiful flowers, mainly lavender, heather, lilacs and violets growing in abundance. She relished the color purple and its cousin, lavender. She had seen them growing abundantly in the fields in front of her little cottage that she dreamed of, where she kept animals and grew beautiful things.

There was a man of some kind, but this part was vague. It was a glorious place and that was all she knew. People came to her there and brought gifts of food and flowers when she wasn’t well and she did wonderful things for the people around her. She made the sick well again. The heavens opened above her and the sun shone down upon her and illumined the water, which came up around her and engulfed her until she came to paradise. She could not understand the dream because it was so unfamiliar to her world. She could only ache inside after she awoke from this dream (and try to forget it).

As the people approached the clearing, hearts began to wax heavy and hardly a speck of joyful anticipation remained, despite the sport of the thing. It always happened this way. The excitement at first faded as they got nearer the gardens of Gragon.

The people were mainly fair; some olive skinned, with light, red or dark hair. Generally their eyes were light in color. The fashion of the day: variations on the gunnysack theme. They ranged in age from infant to a small number of aged. Health and beauty did not last long, but there was white hair amongst them. One was a man named Began. He was known for his visions and dreams, many of which had come true. Though the priestess did not give him much honor, she found his wave came and destroyed the village. He assumed this meant doom for the people, but wasn’t sure if it was going to be a fireball from the sky, a dramatic weather change, or an attack by another tribe.

At the clearing, a modicum of ancient architecture was visible. Columns on all corners of a pool reflected Greek styles. In the distance lay the pool that the priestess bathed and frolicked in according to her fancy, with whomever. The ritual was to take place in a large circle created by stones fitted into the ground with one point facing up. Across the circle were lines drawn in a white chalk, which crossed and intersected to create a shape that the people didn’t understand and never bothered to think about. Only the priestess knew the meaning.

As the people gathered around the circle, the King was brought in by several men and placed in its center. Several of the priestess’ choice young men – rugged, muscular and attractive, with striped face paint of white, blue and other colors, carried the King and held him down with metal hoops fitted around his ankles and pushed into the earth. He went with no protest, but his expression was that of horror and dismay. Nearby the fires were started and the plates were stacked and ready for use.

When everything was ready, the priestess appeared from her chamber where she had been praying to Gragon for a new king to be presented for marriage to the goddess of nature. She also had been worshipping her cat Duana. Duana was slender with green eyes and a sleek coat of gray.

As she approached the circle all the villagers moved to the other side of the circle. They groaned and sighed with awe as everyone was amazed (as always) at how she managed to titillate them yet give them feelings of fear and revulsion along with an odd respect.

If she was beautiful they didn’t want to know it. She wore a long white dress in a Greek style that clung to her and showed the contours of a voluptuous body. Her hair fell shiny and lustrous against the sides of her body – black hair adorned with gold braids. She looked like an Egyptian or a Greek goddess except that her skin was very pale. Her eyes were dark and painted. Her lips were painted black. Her eyes were too frightening to look into. She was far too dangerously seductive. She didn’t mind if women wanted her as much as men. It was her desire to make everyone desire her.

In spite of all this, on this day one could detect a slight nervousness in her behavior. Something said that she, of all people, was afraid!

She pulled out the special blade used for the ritual. The people gasped. What she began the men who served her would finish. She raised the blade to her lips and kissed it. The kiss was the kiss of death. The king cringed as he thought of the pain that would ensue.

A wind rose at one moment out of nowhere. She looked around and drew back. Her bosom heaved as she breathed heavily. The old man, Began, stepped closer to the front of the crowd. “Your highness,” he chirped, “I have had a dream.”
“I know,” she cried, “I know.” She paused and turned away from the king. “A dream of our destruction. I have had the dream,” she declared angrily, swinging the blade back down to her side and stamping her foot.

The wind got stronger and the people began to cough from the dust. The king closed his eyes in relief. The priestess looked up at the sky and her face showed that she was certain that something was coming to destroy them. The wind rose and swirled so heavily, some grabbed onto trees or anything they could. The priestess merely stood her ground and waited, her hands now both clutching the blade. Her men stood by as well, holding more intently onto their weapons. It looked as though they expected to continue, because the winds would soon die. The wind made its frightening and chilling whistles.

The priestess began to howl, “I feel it coming. It’s powerful, it’s so powerful. Oh god. Gragon, help. Gragon help me.”

The winds began to die down a little, but the priestess began to breath faster and faster and her men began to feel afraid too. The people of the village could not move from where they were though they wanted to run. They felt it too. There was something powerful, terrifying, impossible to describe, and it was impossible to predict what was going to happen. When the winds died down the only sound left was the sound of fearful breathing.

The people looked up at a hill just beyond the circle and several said, “look.” Three men stood before them. They had no weapons, no armor. They stood before them in plain and simple garments. They had brown or black curly, long hair and their beards were scruffy. They were olive skinned and their eyes were brown, like the people of the southern kingdom. So startled were the people at their innocuous appearance that the initial reaction was relief. But when the men moved closer to the circle, an incredible power came in and pressed upon the priestess and her men. The blade in her hand flew and landed upright in the ground. The blades that the young men held also went flying out of their hands and flew far into the area with the pool. The sound of the blades falling terrified the people.

At that moment, the priestess knew she had met her match. The power began to take over as the men approached the crowd, moving in offensively. The priestess grabbed her throat as something was pounding within it. The pounding in her ears was like a resounding drum. A dramatic moment ensued as the priestess, her men, and the whole village fell onto the ground, some convulsing, and some crying out. The king screamed from his position. The man in the center of the three, the one with more aggression and confidence, went to the king and removed his bonds. The king bowed to him.

Many of the people stopped flying around in their epileptic response, laying flat on the ground and sobbing. The priestess, now laying in a place on leaves and grass beneath the trees, let out a scream so horrifying that no one could forget it for the rest of their days. She continued to scream so that no one could bear it. The man who seemed to be in charge came to her and said, “be silent and come out of her,” and at that very instant she fell down as if dead, while he watched her for a few moments. “Woman, arise,” he said. Her eyes opened, she jerked herself away and got within a little distance of him. She looked down at herself, still panting. “Who are you,” she wailed. “Who are you?”

Most of the people were lying down and sobbing. They quieted down as she spoke.

The man looked at her and she realized that his eyes were unbearable. Lasers leapt from his eyes. She fell back from even trying to look at them. She struggled to her feet to try to get a better look. He wasn’t handsome. No, he was not what you would describe as handsome but that was not to say that looking at him was not appealing. It was just different. He was altogether different from anyone she had ever seen. His face was plain, but his body was very muscular. His hands were wonderful and strong. He had a curious effect on the priestess. He was disturbing, but his presence was also compelling. She felt confused at first.

He had released her from a power that had been in her life, and it felt wonderful, but her weak soul felt a type of fear she had never felt, and it wasn’t welcome.

“I am who I am,” was his answer. His words rolled out authoritatively and echoed. He gave the priestess a sense of relief and safety but at the same time, his authority and power were intrusive. Yet, she felt she could not deny it. It was a new reality to contend with, like it or not!

‘”Who is that?” she said.
“I am the one you have waited for.”
“The one,” she pondered.
“The king of another land,” he added.
She demanded, “ I asked for a new king, but it can’t be YOU.”
“Oh, but it is. I am the new king,” he answered.
“Why have you come to us if you are the king of a distant land?” she queried.
“My people have rejected me,” he sighed. ‘And I have sought those who are not my people.
“You want us?” she keened. “You are not like any man we have ever seen.”
“I am not just a man,” he answered.
“You are greater than Gragon, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“Woman, today I have forgiven you of all your sins. Go and sin no more. I will be with you always.”

Chapter 2

It was the next day.

The whole village was gathered at the shores of a beautiful lake. That day, the sun was shining as it rarely does. It was warm, the sun was high in the sky, and there were no clouds and not a drop of rain.

The three men in the water stood out a ways from the people, and their new king spoke.

“The kingdom has come upon you. As you enter the waters, I want to remind you that you have offered your lives as a living sacrifice, and my father has received you. The waters are a symbol of your cleansing from sin. I now baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son and of the Spirit.

The people began to enter the water and each one got pushed under. The priestess entered the waters. The king prayed for her and she went under. Something exploded the moment the waters went over her, and as she rose out of the water her face pointed towards the sun. She felt the power and light of the sun enter her being. It was not just the sun; it was light that had great power.

She kept staring into heaven as everyone else, still overwhelmed by tumultuous change, left the water. She lifted her hands out of the water and raised them to the heavens, her joy overflowing as the water rushed from her hands. Her black hair shone in the light, and all the paint was dripping from her face as she wept.

“My dream, my dream. I could never have imagined it coming true!” she cried out, even screamed into the blues, whites, yellows and pinks of the day, where she had seldom lived and where she had never relished beauty, delicacy or life before.

She splashed around in the water and began to laugh like a little girl. Her face now cleared of all its paint was still young.

As she came out of the water she looked around at the flowers and at passing birds. She held the corner of her garment and skipped along like a little girl, talking to herself as a child.

When she came back to the village, the people backed off and went into their crude homes. Her head began to drop as she was reminded of the reparations that would be necessary for her to begin life in company with the people. Her mood changed a great deal as she headed back to the lake where she sat down again and looked out towards it. From deep within came a cry of humble and anguished regret. She cried out loud and her voice echoed into the air above the lake. She lay face down and wept for at least one hour, asking for forgiveness. She fell asleep and dreamt again. This time she had nightmares. She had never had nightmares before, except as a child. In her dream, Gragon was now chasing her relentlessly.

Chapter 3


When she awoke, her dreams were hard to banish, but the new reality she was living seemed even brighter as her mind became clear.

She went into the village to search for the king.
“Where is our king?” she asked impishly.
“He has left, but his men have stayed,” replied one of the young men that served her in her court.
“Oh, look. You have found it too, I can tell,” the priestess cooed.
“I have. The king may return to us.”
The priestess walked towards an area where the people were gathered around a fire. The two men who had accompanied the new king were talking.

“This will not be such as easy path for you, but you find victory if you do not lose heart. You need to look back on your lives and see where you have sinned and make confession. If you need to confess to someone else you can come to us. You may need to make amends where you have wronged someone else and ask for their forgiveness. If they do not forgive you, you have done your part. Our king is still with us in spirit.

The priestess looked baffled. “The king has left us. He said he would be with me always. “She stared at the group for a while then went home to her palace.

In the light of day stood the little hut belonging to the couple whom had their lives torn apart by the priestess. Crickets and insects buzzed as the sun briefly penetrated the clouds and shone upon the little hut. The priestess stood in front of it waiting for the woman to appear. Shortly, the woman did open the door, but went cold when she saw the priestess. The priestess spoke weakly with shame.

“I came to ask you to…to…”
The woman came out in front of her. The priestess fell to the ground and let out a wail and begged her forgiveness. The woman looked down at her and retreated into her hut without a word.

“I understand, but you must try to forgive, someday…” the priestess moaned.

She arose feeling somewhat defeated and returned home. It was the first time that she noticed how the gardens had been sacked by the storms. Recognizing that it would take far too much work to clean up, she determined that the gardens of Gragon would simply be destroyed. She entered the chamber that had once been her temple, where the sun’s rays told the date and the time, and determined the rituals for particular days. She found her cat Duana sitting there. She saw that he was a tiny creature - that was all! He rolled on his back, throwing his paws into the air and beckoned her to play with him.

“Ha ha. Such a god you are!” she laughed wholeheartedly. From now on I am going to call you ‘Felice’ or ‘happy one’ as the southern people would call you. Hello, happy one.” She rubbed his stomach to his delight. Out in the gardens there came a terrifying snorting sound. It came from the gardens and she went to look. As she approached it the smell rose to her nostrils. There it was amidst the debris: a large, slimy reptile with dark green, scaly skin, large teeth and smoke rising from its nostrils.

“Remember me?” came an obnoxious, mocking voice.
“No, who are you? She replied with fear.
“You worshipped me. You served me.”
“Gragon? You are Gragon?”
“Close. I’m actually Dragon. I’ve been called that by your, ah, new king.”
“You know the king?”
“Oh, we’ve been acquainted.”
“You aren’t the all powerful god.”
“Well, I was hopeful,” he replied, chuckling with embarrassment.
“I thought you were the great spirit. You lied to me. You’re nothing more than a huge, revolting reptile.”
“Oh, a lot more could be said for me than that! I have numerous disguises and wreak havoc on earth.”
“Oh, really. Well let me tell you something, Gragon. I live to destroy the work you have done to destroy my life and the lives of others. You will stay out of my way!”
“Oh, you can try keeping me at bay. We’ll see,” he slobbered.
“Get thee behind me!” ordered, and stormed out. Her cat got to his feet and followed her.

She went into the village and searched for Began. Upon finding him, she waited to see his response. Seeing the attitude of acceptance in his eyes, she went to him and they embraced followed by tears.

“ I must call the people together. I have something to say to them,” she announced.

Chapter 4

It was evening and the people gathered together around a fire as Began took the lead. He announced the priestess’ intentions and then beckoned her to come forward to speak her mind, or heart.

“We have all been changed. I am a new person and so are all of you,” she proclaimed.

The people whispered to one another.

“I have come to ask forgiveness for all I have done to you.”

There were cries and hushed responses. The priestess bent down before them, placing her hands in front of her, pleading for forgiveness. She stayed in that position and would not leave for about an hour.

Eventually, each member of the village came and laid something down in front of her. She looked up and found herself surrounded by little bunches of violets and heather. She looked heavenward.

In the back of the crowd stood a scowling man, hiding behind a hooded garment. He would have none of this. He left the crowd and disappeared deep into the woods where he met his cohorts. As he removed his hood his face revealed that he was one of the former members of the priestess’ court. The poison that had entered his blood during a lifetime of service to her and to Gragon had not left. He could not be more offended or repelled by what was happening to the priestess and the rest of the village. He had a bitter taste in his mouth that was not satisfied.

“Now she’s asking for forgiveness,” he taunted.
“What next,” cackled a woman in the group?

The group huddled together to discuss their strategy to bring back the days of Gragon. Thus we can see the root off the greatest betrayal and evil the world has ever or will ever know.

The people of the village went to work to tear down the gardens of Gragon. Able-bodied men, many of them former members of the priestess’ court, began to unearth the stone structures that made up the temple.

During most days, the priestess could be found in the tiny hut where the King’s men were staying. There she learned many things about these amazing people that the King belonged to. She learned about their history and their sacred writings. She loved to recite verses from their ancient text, especially about the King being her shepherd and taking care of all her needs, and about bringing her beside still waters and into green pastures.

She would remember her dream and would see violets in the green pastures.

“Like apples of gold in settings of silver; so is a word spoken at the right moment,” she recited.

After these sessions she always felt inspired and energetic and set out to find ways to make others around her happy.

Initially the village gathered together and brought every single article of their superstitious and cultic beliefs and burned them. As they did, horrible screams and cries went out from the burning pyre. Some saws scorpions and serpents slither away. When the priestess publicly disposed of the articles of her witchcraft, the sights and sounds were unbearable. Many of the people ran as far away as they could and covered their eyes and ears. The priestess had to have more than one burning as she continued to find more and more articles that had been tucked away in her lodgings.

Many people required anointing with oils that had been specially prepared. Into this oil the healing power of the King’s spirit was imbued through prayer. The people required prayer for healing of their bodies, their minds and their emotions.

Many felt the need for a multitude of confessions before one another and these were usually accompanied by deep sobbing.

In the evenings the village gathered for prayer and the singing of scriptural songs. They sang simple tunes on crude instruments. One of the couples began to write many of these songs expressing joy and purity in all areas of life.
They would get up and dance together in circles and tell one another of the ways their lives had begun to change. They also noticed they had a greater desire for bodily cleanliness and many felt that their sexual impurities needed to be cleansed.

Clothing was already becoming cleaner, more dignified and modest.

Chapter 5

One morning, very early before dawn, the priestess was found frantically putting some of her belongings together. She was then summoned by a group of men from the King’s land that was taking her a long distance away. They advised her to pretend that she was the wife of one of them and to dress so that her face and body were well hidden.

They were taking her to the capital city of the King’s land. There was talk of the King being put to death. This was unthinkable and unbearable to the priestess, however she had always been able to stop things that were against her will. She was being told there was nothing she could do, but it was impossible for her to forget the days when she could have whatever she desired. Somehow she had to stop the King’s death.

The journey was not what she imagined. She had never before journeyed beyond her island. It took endless days and nights. The men set up tents and one man had to share the tent with her. He posed as her husband, and merely shared the tent without even talking with or looking at her. It was hard traveling with men and having female troubles, but these men were not like any others she had ever known, these olive toned men from the King’s land. The caravan went south and then east, passing through strange cultures that were frightening to the priestess. Fear! It was something new to the priestess, something the King taught her. It was a new kind of fear. Always she hid her face from men, hiding her beauty like something that could be used as a terrible pawn in someone’s game.

As they neared the King’s land, something of awe welled up inside her as she became aware that this place did not belong to just anybody. Who were the King’s people? All she knew was relief knowing they had existed all along. She saw sheepherders who reminded her of the ancestor who had written the psalm about green pastures. As they approached the area in which the King’s death was to take place, the climate became less friendly. There had been good weather most of the way, but the weather began to look unfriendly as the Friday of his doom approached. Still she asked herself if there was a way she could stop this. The day came when to see him at all, even at his execution seemed fortunate. They were in the territory of the crude method of killing, and were making their way along the path the King had trudged to his execution. The priestess became even more disturbed as she observed the attitudes of the people along the way, mocking even her and her party for wanting to go see him at his last hour. She remembered his words, “my people have rejected me, their living water, their bread of life.”

Past the earthen clay dwellings and goats and smells of the city she went. Past the sneering, imbibing men, and past a thousand faces that did not care or understand how this thing could be. “If the King dies, we are all doomed to perish forever,” she thought. “He is our only hope.”

As they made their way further, the sky darkened and the wind blew mercilessly. She remembered the wind on that day when the King first came to their island. She screamed. At the top of the hill one could see the lines of the crude boards set up as crosses, one next to the other, and already she could see dying bodies on them and could smell the unbearable stink of death. She remembered the various forms of torture and punishment once practiced in her village. She had lost her taste for it. She had never seen this type of cruelty. The power demonstrated by the southern people she had once encountered in her home was much greater than she had realized. The southern people had mostly left her people alone. She had no idea they dominated the entire world, or exercised such oppressive power over the people of the earth.

Gragon also controlled this kingdom of the south to a large degree. That is something that the priestess had come to recognize, like it or not. At first she wondered if she had been wrong about Gragon, if he was actually more powerful or the one true god. But she remembered the King explaining that his own kingdom was beyond this world, and though it may not seem to be so, he ultimately ruled the universe. He also promised that she would see him manifest more of his power, someday. He assured her that the kingdoms of this world rise and fall, that all men soon die with nothing except what they have in the next life, and no matter how big their roar, they would ultimately yield their power.

She finally found the cross that her King had been viciously strapped and stapled to, in an area with just two other crosses. Prostrated before him were several women who also knew him – prostrated and in tears.

The priestess had not been prepared for what she found on that dark and dreadful Friday. Before her, on that cross, the body of her King was impaled like a frog impaled by future generations of children in a science experiment. Of all the cruelty she had inflicted upon human beings, she had never seen anything as grotesque as what she saw before her. She had never imagined what it would be like if a man had every bit of life drained from his body, after severe beatings, a crown made of thorns upon his head, and large nails driven into his hands and feet. Lastly, the blood and water had poured from his side as a spear was thrust into him. She dropped to her knees and screamed with piercing cries so loud that soldiers headed towards her to stop it. “No,” she cried out, “no, you cannot die, King, you cannot die.”

One of the King’s men came to comfort her before the soldiers reached her, but she pushed him away as her eyes stared at this thing that seared her with a horrible reality. “Our only hope is dead.” She pleaded with him, “No, King, no. It cannot be, it cannot be.”

The man who held her up said, “it must be.”
She pushed him away again.
“He will come back to life,” he assured her.
“I don’t believe you. Look at him. He is dead. He is dead,” she wailed, and asked only to bury her head and cry. She eventually watched as two women somberly watched below his feet, especially the older one who seemed peaceful in her sorrow. She wondered at this, but continued to cry as the man held her.

Chapter 6

The priestess stood on the top of the hill overlooking her village. She wore lavender and looked ravishing. She looked clean, full of joy and full of life.

She came down the hill to her people and they all rejoiced to see her return. As she came nearer she screamed,” he is alive. He is alive forevermore!” The whole village cheered and clapped their hands.

“I have seen him alive again along with many others! He showed us his hands and the scars that were left. It was he,” she assured them.

The priestess was called upon one morning to visit the woman who would not forgive her – now dying of a strange disease. Her body was covered with red, hairy patches. The priestess asked everyone to leave her alone with the woman. After prayer and laying her hands on the woman, unafraid of the disease, the woman rose and was able to eat for the first time in months. Everyone cheered and word was spreading that the priestess was healing people in the name of the King. The woman was so overjoyed with the love offered to her that she forgave the priestess. They actually embraced for the first time and the people began to weep with joy.

Began was next. He had taken ill and was healed through the priestess’ touch. On and on it went. She was celebrated in territories throughout the islands, and many sought her also for spiritual advice. Her village was being looked at as the center for learning and healing, and was being visited by many souls in search of help.

Many were marrying in the manner taught by the King, but the priestess declared that she could not love just an ordinary man after being loved by that most amazing man. She also said she preferred her life lived with animals and a life of service to others. She declared that touching others to heal them was touching enough.

Then one day a man came to visit. She immediately recognized him as one of the men of her court. He looked worlds different. He was now free of face paint, and the hard edge that his face seemed to carry had been replaced by a softer look that agreed with him. She thought of him as handsome, but didn’t think about that much anymore, nor did it matter much to her. She knew his reputation as a man who now belonged to the King. He had many qualities that she admired. When he arrived he handed her an animal she didn’t recognize at first because he had made some miniature clothes just for him, similar to those made for a baby. He had established a new profession as a tailor. The animal looked so hilarious she immediately laughed. It was her cat ‘Felice.’

“I thought you would enjoy that!” he chuckled.
“Oh, he looks so positively cute,” she cooed. “You made these?”
“Yes,” he replied.

After tea and biscuits at her summer table, she sadly explained that she didn’t think it was possible for her to marry. He made his way sadly along the path that left her cottage, as he bid her goodbye.

Chapter 7

The priestess lived the rest of her days in her thatched roofed house made by the people of the village with a small adjoining farm where she kept all of her beloved animals. People came from places far away to visit her quite regularly. The love she was given and the love she was able to give were beyond anything she had ever dreamed of. Of course, she eventually married the man who made clothes for Felice. She felt it was important that no one should think that to follow the King one should live too austerely, or arrogantly, denying themselves the sweet joys of an intimate relationship. She declared that these do teach us to be simple, sweet, and loving and help to incorporate the most important qualities within us.

She enjoyed the new experience of sexual passion in this relationship, and knew it was something she could never have experienced as a pagan priestess. She found that physical passion and enjoyment – a man’s body and hers entwined while being imbued with the fire of love for that person was something that she could never have discovered without having first discovered her King.

Her gardens flourished with all manner of purple, lavender, violet and heather. Later in life she was told that purple was being named as the official symbol of the King’s passion on the cross. She thought of how she had loved that color for so long, never knowing that there was a profound reason.

She died in peace. She at last joined her King forever.

A small congregation met on a sunny Sunday on the same island in a tiny, ancient, stone sanctuary that had been built shortly after the priestess’ life became amazing. It was now many years after the priestess’ death. These are the words of their song:

And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountain green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the countenance divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among those dark satanic mills?

Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.

This story is copyrighted