Terman Chapter 9 (Rev)

Silvana lay in her secluded garden, basking in the rays of the Great Eye. A
gentle breeze disturbed the blue folds of her diaphanous gown. With eyes half
open, she listened to the splashing of the fountain and the intermittent
whirring of the hummingbirds, feeding among the orchids hanging in great
clusters from the trees.

She was bored and restless. Every day was a perfect day, the sky was always
fine, or decorated with a few idealised clouds. The rain, when it came, was
warm and gentle and refreshed the garden without disturbing its ordered
calm. Her food and wine were the finest that could be devised. Her
companions, if she needed them, were ladies like herself, pure, untouched:
ignorant of the world beyond the Royal Gardens. But not quite like her; not
destined to be a Queen, subject only to the Goddess, ruler of all. That’s what
the priests said, anyway.

The peristylum had been designed to give the illusion of an unlimited open
space. Beyond the artificial jungle of the seemingly elevated garden, rolling
fields were populated with bucolic figures and animals, carrying on their
fictional lives. Occasionally she had seen a half naked hunter, seeking the
deer that roamed the imaginary forest. Once he had swum naked in the river.
She thought of him often, and wished he were real, and that he would come
into her garden one day.

A shadow fell across her face. She sat upright and saw the scowling mask of
Sacerdos, her eunuch priest.

“Stand out of my light,” she said, sitting upright. “Don’t creep about like that.
You’re always creeping about.”

“Forgive me Noble Silvana,” the priest said, stepping back hastily, “I wondered
if you would like to study today. The initiation ceremony isn’t far off.”

“Please don’t use my cognomen; I don’t like to hear it on your lips.”

Sacerdos lowered his head. “I’m sorry Noble One, I forgot.”

“I’m sorry I forgot, I’m sorry I forgot. Hummidy, himmidy hoo-oo, I don’t know
what to do-oo, I’m such a silly poo-oo.”

A crooked figure danced out from behind the fountain, where he had been
hiding. Flaccus Verrucus, her fool, had been a gift from the Herzog on her 16th
birthday.

“No need to be rude to Sacerdos, he’s only doing his duty,” she said.

“Principessy, must we put up with his holy creepiness? He spies on you, you
know; runs and tells tales to the Pontifex, makes up all sorts of lies.”
“My Lady, please ask him to leave. I’ve been specifically asked by His
Holiness to make sure you are properly prepared for your initiation.”

“He does, he makes up stories. I’ve seen him secretly watching you when the
hunter comes, standing in the bushes with his hand under his robe.”

Silvana stood up suddenly, towering over the priest and the diminutive fool.
“Be silent, both of you. Verrucus, stand well away, while I listen to what
Sacerdos has to say.”

The fool walked backwards out of her sight, until he stumbled against the
coping of the fountain. Regaining his balance he lifted his right hand to display
his animated glove puppet. The manikin morphed into a caricature of
Sacerdos, with tight mouth and straight back.

“My Lady, there is a great deal of ritual to cover,” Sacerdos began.

“…ritual to cover,” the doll squeaked quietly, one arm raised plaintively in
imitation of the priest.

“I suggest we go over the Vows to the City; it’s quite a short prayer.”

“…short prayer,” the doll squeaked, a little louder.

Sacerdos continued doggedly, “If you would grant me a few hours, I think we
could make good progress.”

“… make a big mess,” the doll fluted.

“Verrucus!” Silvana shouted, without turning her head.

The dolls features morphed into the fool’s, tears running down its face.

“Thank you Sacerdos,” she said. “I promise to allow you some time, maybe
tomorrow. I just can’t concentrate today, I need some time to myself.”

“Yes Lady, I understand,” he said, withdrawing backwards with his head

Silvana waited for Verrucus to commit some further folly, but he just stood by
the fountain looking dejected.

“I was good, wasn’t I?” he said, addressing the doll. “You were very good, not
tripping his creepiness up from behind. You were so good the beautiful Lady
might give you a kiss and turn you into a Prince.”

“Didn’t you hear me say I wish to be alone,” Silvana said, returning to her
couch.
Verrucus took a few tentative steps forward, the doll raised defensively in front
of his face. Its features became that of a greybeard. “You must beware of the
priest,” it said in a croaky voice. “I am the great oracle of the Prophet Herzog.
I see the creeping eunuch now, telling the Pontifex that you have no desire to
become Queen.”

“What do you want, Verrucus?” the Princess said wearily. “I could have you
sent to Lord Cornutus’s court; he would know how to deal with you.”

Verrucus scuttled forward, throwing himself down before the dais. “There are
those who truly love you, Lady; none more than I.”

“So you keep saying, but unless you stop annoying me I’ll have you fed to the
carnivorous plants.”

“Lady, I do have serious business for your ears only. I could not speak in front
of you-know-who. There is one who would speak with you, a Royal Prince
who may not approach you directly.”

“My brother Virbius, you mean?”

“I have been sworn to secrecy, My Lady, I dare not utter his name.”

“Well, you have some kind of message? Deliver it then.”

“No message that can be passed by my lips, Highness. I was asked to give
you this crystal for your communications centre.”

Silvana sat up excitedly and took the small box proffered by Verrucus.

“Very good, Verrucus, you’ve done well to keep this secret. You may leave
me now.”

The fool got slowly to his feet and backed respectfully out of the peristylum.

*****

Silvana left the box untouched until she had spent some time studying the
religious texts required for her initiation. The process was a long and arduous
one that would culminate in her nuptials with Virbius. But first they both had to
confirm their willingness to proceed. There was little choice, since expulsion
and banishment from the City was the price of refusal. For her, such a choice
was unthinkable.

The artificial sky was pink with the light of evening, and the slim crescent of
the Lesser Eye could be faintly seen. Soon it would be dark, and no one
would dare to disturb her. She opened the box that Verrucus had brought and
looked inside. It contained an amber, egg shaped stone, designed to fit snugly
into one of the slots in her couch. She placed it in position and lay back,
gently gripping the palm communicator. She let her eyelids droop, gazing
calmly at the darkening landscape, with its woods and trees.

Gentle currents of excitement ebbed and flowed through her body as the
dream began to unfold. There was a flurry of movement among the distant
trees. A flock of pigeons flew up, disturbed by some swift, but hidden action.
Her eyes were open wide now; she strained to see the cause. A white deer, a
male, with large antlers broke into a clearing and stood poised to flee.

She wondered how well she could control the drama, remembering too late
the deadly purpose of the hunter. Before she could take control, the stag
reared up and began to run. It had barely reached the edge of the clearing
before it was struck by another unseen blow. Falling to its knees, it lay dying,
the blood pumping from the darts embedded in its neck.

She had longed for the hunter, but not for the death of his prey. When he
came running from the trees, she felt a mixture of desire and repulsion at what
she knew must follow. With powerful arms, he seized the dying beast round
the neck and despatched it with a single blow of his knife. The actors were
distant, but she could hear the scream of the stag before it slumped to the
ground, its blood ebbing into the soil.

The hunter tied the fore and hind legs of his quarry and slung it over his
shoulders with ease. Silvana knew that he would visit her at last, unless she
removed her hand from the silver palm control. She watched while the hunter
made his way towards her, now obscured by scrub and now by the slope of
the hill beyond the garden. Still she did not remove her hand.

She was suddenly afraid. Who had sent the message? Virbius she had
thought, but it could be from the Pontifex, or even the Herzog. She had been
a fool, it could be a test, intended to destroy her. Still she did not remover her
hand. The hunter could never reach her; he was an illusion, a distant dream of
love that could not be.

The sky was dark now, but for a strip of pale green that lay along the horizon,
behind the darkness of the distant hills. The sound of birds had ceased, only
the fountain continued with its soothing song. Stars sparkled faintly, rolling
along invisible lines above her head. Silvana felt cold, which was not
permitted, the temperature was maintained for her comfort.

Something moved in the darkness, below the trees, something not native to
the garden. She wished the hunter would come quickly and set her free from
this tiresome dream. Let go, she told herself, but her hand was frozen, no
longer under her control.

A dark shape, heavy, formless slid out of the undergrowth and over the
terrace towards where she lay. She could not sit up but could see the dark
mass writhing below her. With a great effort she tore her hand free and
struggled to rise. Too late: the weight of the beast was pinning her legs, and
moving slowly over her body. She wanted to scream and break free, but a
terrible curiosity and desire held her in thrall.

She lay still, breathing jerkily, while the weight of the dark being pressed on
her abdomen and chest. Finally its head blocked the fading light from the sky
and brushed gently against her cheek.

“Silvana,” it breathed into her ear, “I have come to claim you.”

*****

When Silvana awoke it was morning. There was no hunter or dark beast. The
Eye had returned and the garden appeared quite normal. She saw her
companion Camilla bending over her with a concerned look.

“My Lady, have you been here all night? We wondered why you did not dine.”

“I was studying and fell asleep,” Silvana replied, getting to her feet.

“What’s that,” Camilla said, pointing to the stone.

“Just a message from my brother; keeping in touch about the ceremony.” She
didn’t like lying to Camilla but it was no concern of hers. There were too many
eyes spying on her day and night.

“This box is strangely decorated; that’s not your brother’s crest is it?” Camilla
said, picking up the carelessly discarded container.

“Thank you,” Silvana said, holding her hand out. She quickly removed the
stone from its slot and secured it in the box. “I would like to eat now, if you
would lead the way.”

*****

When evening came, Silvana gave orders that she was not to be disturbed
and went back to the garden. She had allowed Sacerdos some time to coach
her in the mysteries, but had impatiently dismissed him before they had got
very far. All she wanted to do was relive the strange experience of the night
before.

She lay on the couch and watched the Eye setting over the hills, holding the
egg shaped stone in her hand. She scanned the woods and fields below but
could see no sign of the hunter. Some small boats from the ancient past were
loading on the river and setting sail for the sea, which lay beyond the gap in
the hills, travelling to some long destroyed city.

Eventually desire overcame fear. Silvana inserted the stone and clasped the
palm control. Nothing happened. Straining to detect the slightest sign, the
sights and sounds of the garden became intensified. The fountain sounded
oppressively loud and the scent of the orchids became strong and sweet. The
flowers and foliage assumed an unnatural crystalline perfection, as if some
supreme artist had taken over her senses.

In the distance, the estuary seemed to have broadened. Strange rocks

In the middle distance, a large clearing with a lake appeared. Many kinds of
animals moved anticlockwise round the water, some ridden by naked figures,
some terman, some human and some hybrids. Naked females with long hair
swam and bathed in the lake. The sky was filled with winged figures, rising
and falling as if in play.

In the garden, the vegetation seemed more dense, and a light wind moved
through the dark foliage. The trees seemed unfamiliar; their leaves heavy and
thick, the branches weighed down with overripe fruit. Bright birds darted in
and out, feeding on the fruit, and those on the wing swooped on the insects
that filled the evening air.

Her world had suddenly been transformed from a calm haven to an alien
landscape that teemed with life and new possibilities. A dark figure moved
beneath the trees, half hidden in shadow. Silvana felt excited and afraid as
the gentle sounds of a flute wafted on the breeze. The musician swayed to the
music but did not emerge. “Who’s there?” she called out. Only women were
allowed to play music. “Camilla, is that you?”

The eye had resumed its course, and time flowed again, deepening the
shadows and painting the sky with warmer tones. When the figure advanced
towards her, Silvana could see the flautist was very tall. No males other than
the priests were allowed into the garden, on pain of death, but this creature
was very real. Dark and tall, he was neither the hunter she had seen
yesterday nor her brother, Virbius, but a strong and powerful lord.

The orange ball of the setting sun rested on his shoulder as he loomed over
her, continuing to play the sinuous theme. She felt drowsy and contented lying
in his shadow, drained of all will. She felt but a vague anxiety when he laid
aside his instrument and bent over her. She felt his breath on her cheek and
the powerful emanation of his body. She did not resist when she felt his touch,
warmer than the creature from the night before, more solid and demanding.

At last the being spoke. “Silvana, I have come to claim you as my Queen”

****