Stephen Lawhead - Taliesin

The being came to stand near him but not near enough to see clearly-it was just a glowing blur through the fog. Taliesin waited, not presuming to address the entity, but allowing it to speak first if it would.

“Well, Shining Brow, here you are once more,” the Ancient One said after a moment. The voice seemed to come from a place high above his head.

Taliesin instantly recognized that he was being addressed by the entity he had encountered on his very first visit to the Otherworld as a boy, years before. “I am here,” he said simply.

“Why have you come this way when you know that it is forbidden?”

“I had hoped to see” he began and faltered.

“You hoped to see,” replied the Ancient One in a lightly mocking tone. “And what have you seen?”

“Nothing, Lord,” replied Taliesin.

“You do well to call me Lord,” said the being. “That shows you have learned something in your years as a man. What else have you learned?”

“I-I have learned to sing in the way of bards,” answered Taliesin. Pride made him bolder. “I have learned the secrets of words; the elements obey my voice. I have learned die ways of wood and glen, of water, air, fire, and earth, and of all living things.”

“You are indeed knowledgeable, O Wise Among Men,” taunted the being gently. “Answer me, then, if you can: why is one night moonlit and another so dark tiiat you cannot see your shield beside you or the spear in your hand?”

Taliesin pondered the question but could not think of a suitable answer.

“Why is a stone so heavy?” inquired the Ancient One. “Why is a thorn so sharp? Tell me if you know: who is better off in death-the fresh-limbed young or the hoar-headed?”

Taliesin remained silent.

“Do you know, or can you even guess, what you are when you are sleeping-a body, a soul, a bright spirit? Where does night await the day? What supports the foundations of the earth in perpetuity? Who put the gold in the ground to make your tore? What remains of a man when his bones are dust?

“Skilled bard, why do you not answer me?”

It seemed to Taliesin as if he no longer remembered how to speak. His mouth would not frame a reply. Ignorance covered him like a cloak and shame made his cheeks burn hotly.

“Have you nothing to say, O Word in Letters?” demanded the being. “No? In that, at least, you show wisdom, Shining Brow. Many prattle idly when they should listen. Are you listening?”

Taliesin nodded.

“Good. I told you that I would teach you what to say… Do you remember?”

Taliesin did remember. He nodded again.

“On the day of your liberation your tongue will be loosed and the words I give you will come. You will be My bard, My herald, proclaiming My reign in the world of men. Men will hear your voice and will know who it is that speaks. They will hear you and believe.

“In the Dark Time your people will look to you, and to the one who comes after you, for light. You will give it to them as I give it to you. Do you understand, Shining Brow?”

Taliesin made no move, so the being said, “Speak, Son of Dust. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“So be it,” said the Ancient One. “Do you know who it is that speaks to you?”

“No, Lord.”

“Look upon me then, Shining Brow. Behold!”

Taliesin raised his eyes and a sudden, sharp breeze began blowing, dispersing the unnatural vapor. He had a last glimpse of the Ancient One through a gray hanging veil of fog, and then the veil melted away and there stood befare him the giant figure of a man-at least twice as tall as any moftalr^naa- wearing a dazzling white robe. Light glinted and shone in dancing rainbows around the man, and Taliesin felt the heat of the being’s presence like a flame that licked his face and hands and burned through his clothing to set his skin ablaze.

The man’s face shone like the sun, burning with a white-hot heat so that it could not be gazed upon, nor its features discerned. The being raised a hand toward Taliesin, the light leapt up, and the Otherworid became a meager shadow, vague and insubstantial.

“Do you know me now, Shining Brow?”

Taliesin sank to his knees and raised his hands in supplication. “You are the Supreme Spirit,” he said, “Lord of the Otherworld.”

“ Of all worlds,” corrected the Ancient One, “of this world and the next and the one beyond that. I am the Long Awaited King whose coming was foretold of old, who was, and is, and will be again. I am the Giver of Life, known from before the foundation of the world, by whose hand Heaven and Earth received their form. I am known by many names, but the time is coming and is soon here when all men will call me Lord.”

Taliesin trembled with fear and awe as the Supreme Spirit’s words burned into his soul.

“I am the one you have sought, Taliesin, in the deep, secret places of your heart, I am the light that strives against darkness. I am the knowledge, the truth, the life. From this moment you will hold no other gods above me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord,” Taliesin said, his voice small and uncertain. “I understand.”

“I have raised you up and set you apart for a special task. Remain in me, Shining Brow, and you shall become a blessing to your people. For through you nations not yet born will come to know me, and my reign will be extended to the ends of the Earth. Do you Believe what I am telling you?”

“Yes, Lord,” Taliesin said. “I have always Believed.”

“Truly said, Shining Brow. Go now, and do not be afraid, for I will be closer to you than your next breath, closer than your heartbeat. Though darkness rises up against you and overwhelms you, I will never leave you. You are mine, Shining Brow, now and evermore.”

Taliesin raised h’-o-Tiead. “If it pleases you, Lord, give me a sign that I may know you.”

“You ask me for a sign, Shining Brow, and I will give it to you. Know me by this!” Taliesin felt the heat of the being’s presence over him and lay quivering with dread and excitement, light blazing all around him, piercing his closed eyelids. There was a touch on the crown of his head, gentle, almost no touch at all; but it was as if a firebrand had taken off the top of his skull, exposing the dark, soft tissues of his brain to the burning brightness of the light.

And his mind was filled with images, a dazzling whirling cycle of scenes: armies marching, shepherds gathering flocks, dark prison cells and noisome sickrooms, bustling cities with roaring marketplaces, quiet villages on lonely hillsides, shining rivers, deep forests, cool mountain heights, hot desert plains, icy cold frontiers, the courts of kings and pallets of beggars, barren flats and fields ripe with grain, merchants engaged in commerce, lovers embracing, mothers bathing children, people talking and fighting and working and building… and much, much more. Men and women of different ages and epochs, different races, different created orders, different worlds, struggling, living, being born and dying.

Taliesin saw all these things, but he saw them through the eyes of the Shining Lord who stood over him, and he had planted within him a tiny seed of understanding, and he realized who it was that he had vowed to follow: “My Lord! My God!” he cried out as the dizzying images spun on and on.

When Hafgan found him in the grove a few hours later, he thought Taliesin was dead. The young man lay on the ground, his limbs still, unmoving. He approached and saw that Taliesin was deeply asleep and could not be awakened. The druid covered him with his cloak and hunkered down to wait.

When Taliesin finally awoke, he could not speak.

Many days later they came to Ynys Witrin. Elphin settled his people Below the Tor and went ahead with Cuall, Hafgan, and Taliesin to determine how they might present themselves to the Fisher King. As they stood looking at the Tor, which was surrounded by lakes and boggy marshland, they met two men in simple garb descending the narrow, winding track from the palace.