Stephen Lawhead - Taliesin

“Who is this Holy Mary of whom you speak?”

“Mother of the Most High God, Jesu the Christ, Savior of Mankind, Lord of Heaven and Earth.” He lowered his hands and unclasped them. “You are not the Blessed Lady?”

Charis smiled. “I have never heard of this goddess.”

The man’s round face flushed crimson. He climbed quickly to his feet. “Forgive me, lady,” he muttered. His friend opened his eyes and peered around. Seeing his companion on his feet, he too jumped up and rushed forward, falling on his face at Charis’ feet and seizing the embroidered hem of her tunic in his hands. He raised the garment to his lips and kissed it.

“Collen!” exclaimed the first man, and went on to say something in a burst of odd-sounding speech which Charis did not understand. The other looked around curiously, glanced back at Charis, dropped the hem and scuttled backwards.

“Forgive us, lady,” said the first intruder. “We thought… We did not know.”

Charis dismissed the apology with a gesture and asked, “She is your goddess, this Mary?”

“Goddess?” The man blanched, but answered forthrightly, “In the name of Jesu, no! We worship no god but the True God.” He raised a hand to their surroundings. “The God who was once worshiped here in this very place.”

“The True God?” Charis puzzled at the meaning of these words. “Worshiped here?” It seemed unlikely to her.

The second man asked a question of the first, who answered him in the foreign tongue. They discussed something for a moment and then the first turned and addressed Charis. “Collen here is not fluent in the tongue of the Britons as I am. Although his grandmother was born in Logres, he is from Gaul and has only the speech of the Gauls and of our brothers in Rome.” He smiled and made a polite bow. “My name is Dafyd. I am of the Silures in Dyfed, no great distance from here.”

“I am Charis; I live near this place in the palace of my father, Avallach, who is king of all these lands.”

The man’s glance quickened. “Avallach? The king of the Fair Folk who dwell on the Glass Isle?”

“Ynys Witrin; yes, that is what they call our palace.”

Dafyd’s eyes grew round. His comrade glanced at him in alarm and asked an unintelligible question. The first man put out a hand to silence the other and shook his head, keeping his eyes on Charis all the while. “Faery,” he whispered.

“Is something wrong?” Charis asked.

“The people here tell many strange tales about you. We have heard things” He broke off.

“Disturbing things,” Charis guessed from the trepidation in his voice.

Dafyd nodded.

“Enchantments and magic,” she continued. “We are said to change our shapes at will: wolves, hounds, stags; we take on the forms of birds and fly; we never sleep or rest; and we have but to bid and the winds bring us news from any corner of our realm, thus any word or speech is known to us… Yes, I know well what they say of us.” She shrugged and lifted an eyebrow. “But you appear to be learned men, what will you Believe?”

“We will Believe,” Dafyd answered slowly, “what the Holy God reveals to us as the truth of this matter.”

Charis pondered these words for a moment and asked, “This god is this same True God?”

“He is one and the same, lady,” replied Dafyd. “We call him Lord and King, Almighty Father, for he is Creator of all that is seen and unseen, and we are his servants.”

“Indeed? I have never heard of this god,” replied Charis matter-of-factly. “Tell me about him.”

Dafyd grinned happily. He spoke a quick word to Collen, who with a last backward glance moved to the doorway and hurried off. “I sent him to look after the horses,” Dafyd explained. “He will wait for us without.”

Charis seated herself once more on the fallen beam and indicated that the holy man should take a place next to her.

He did so, approaching with caution, settling beside her, near but holding himself apart, as from an open flame.

“This ruin whose walls enfold us was once, we are told, a place of worship sacred to the Almighty. We have come to find and if possible restore this chapel in order that the truth of our God might be proclaimed once more hereabouts.”

“You speak often of truth,” remarked Charis. “Is this god of yours so interested in truth?”

“In truth, yes; but in love as well.”

“Love?”

“Oh, yes. In love most of all.”

“A strange god then. And often disappointed, I should think.”

“I do not wonder that it seems strange to you. For so it seemed to me when I first heard it. But I have studied long on it and have in time come to be convinced of it. More, I have learned the truth of it for myself and now cannot be persuaded otherwise-no matter what may befall me.” He looked at Charis frankly and said, “What god do you worship or sacrifice to?”

“None whatsoever,” snapped Charis with sudden vehemence. She recoiled from the sound of her own voice and said more softly, “Once I Believed in Bel, the supreme god of our people. But he proved himself a false and unworthy god, allowing destruction to come upon his race; so now I neither serve nor worship any god at all.”

“Well said! I was myself like that once-until Jesu found me.” Charis could almost feel the eagerness and enthusiasm bubbling inside this strange priest-so unlike the jaded priests of Bel. “That is how he is! He reaches out; he draws men to him. He is the Good Shepherd who searches in the wilderness for his lost sheep, never resting until he gathers them to his fold.”

They talked a little longer and then Charis rose and said, “I must go now. If you intend staying in this place, you must ask my father’s permission.”

“We will do whatever is required,” answered Dafyd.

Charis moved to the doorway, then hesitated, thinking that perhaps she had dismissed the priest too abruptly. “Dine with us tonight; you can ask him then.”

Dafyd held up his hands in protest. “Please, we do not seek to exalt ourselves. Rather, allow us to remain here and eat the provisions we have brought with us.”

“You may not remain here until you have the king’s permission to do so, and my father will be most overwrought to learn that I have not extended the generosity of his house to you. If you refuse me, he may even come here himself to fetch you.”

At this, the holy man relented. “That would never do! We are servants of all men, kings and beggars alike. It shall be as you say.”

“Then follow me,” said Charis, “I will take you there at once.”

The place of Avallach was like nothing either of the holy men had ever seen: outside it was built on an imposing scale, while inside it was all smooth, polished stone-slender columns supporting delicate arches and high vaulted ceilings; intricate tOe floors and inlaid with mosaics and richly painted walls, detailing fabulous scenes of an otherworldly water paradise. And everywhere they looked there were tall graceful beings, men and women of beauty unrivaled.

Collen took one look at the stablehands who led their horses away and whispered to Dafyd, “Truly these are the Faery! There can be no doubt.”

“Nay, brother, they are mortals like as we.”

Collen rolled his eyes. “Mortals they may be but never like us.” He inclined his head toward the youth leading their horses away. “Why, look-the lowest stablehand is arrayed more richly than any Gaulish king!”

Charis had led them inside where, despite their best efforts, they stared unashamedly at all they saw and could not keep themselves from remarking at each new thing. She brought them into the great hall with its canopied litter of scarlet samite on which Avallach rested.

“Father,” said Charis drawing near, “I have brought visitors.”