“I am the crescent that crowns the sky
I am the sunlight that glitters on the wave
and the breeze that bends the new grass.
No man has ever possessed Me,
and yet I am the end of all desire.
Huntress and Holy Wisdom am I,
Spirit of Inspiration, and Lady of Flowers.
Look into the water and you will see
My face mirrored there, for you belong to Me …”
I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the image of the Lake, half-veiled by a silver mist of rain. Then the clouds parted. Standing on the shore was a young man whose hair shone like the beams of the sun, and nearby, I saw myself, my hair grown long, so I knew that this was some years in the future. I was moving towards him, but as I reached out to touch his hand the scene changed. Now I was seeing the light of a bonfire upon a Beltane tree crowned with flowers. Men and maidens danced wildly around it, and among them I saw the same young man, his eyes alight with exaltation as a veiled figure I knew to be myself was led forwards by priestesses crowned with flowers. Then he was sweeping me into his arms.
Now we were within the sacred bower. He pulled off the maiden’s veil and I saw my own face, alight with joy. I glimpsed the crescent moon through the new leaves, and then the scene dissolved in a shower of stars, and I was myself again, looking up at the Mystery hidden by the white veil.
“I hear you,” I whispered in a shaking voice. “I will serve you.”
“Will you swear now to give up your maidenhead only to the man whom I shall choose for you, in the holy rites of Avalon?”
I stared, wondering if this was a test, for surely the Lady had just shown me the man I was destined to love. But the voice had lost that unearthly sweetness, and I thought that perhaps the Goddess had departed again. Still, I had known that this oath was required of all who served as priestesses on Avalon.
“I swear,” I said gladly, for even in that glimpse of vision my soul had begun to yearn for the young man I had seen.
“It is well,” said the Maiden, “but there is yet Another whom you must hear—” I sat back, turning a little towards the second figure, whose crimson veil glowed with the torches’ fire.
“I am the fruit that swells on the branches. I am the full moon that rules the sky…” This voice was all golden, powerful as the purr of some great cat, honey-sweet, and comforting as newly-baked bread.
“I am the sun in her splendour
and the warm wind that ripens the grain.
I give myself in my own times and seasons,
and bring forth abundance.
I am Mistress and Mother, I give birth and I devour.
I am the lover and the beloved,
and you will one day belong to Me…”
As I listened to this voice, I understood that this too was the Goddess, and bowed my head respectfully. And in that gesture of acceptance, vision came once more upon me.
I was on a Roman trading boat, wallowing along under full sail. Behind me lay the silver glitter of the sea, but the boat was moving into the mouth of a mighty river that had carved many branching channels through a flat coastal plain. Beside me stood the man who had courted me, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The scene changed: I was heavy with child, and then I was holding the babe at my breast, a large and healthy boy with a shock of fair hair. The shock of sensation as the infant bit down on my nipple sent me back into my body again.
“I hear you,” I whispered, “and when my season comes, I will serve you.”
“You will indeed,” the Lady replied, “but there is yet Another whom you must hear—”
I shivered as the dark draperies that swathed the third figure stirred.
“I am the nut that clings to the leafless bough,” came a whisper like the rubbing of bare branches in the winter wind.