Week 10, Vengeance of the Sun God, Chapter 4

Poseidon and Athena Battle for Control of Athens
 Benvenuto Tisi da Garofalo, 1512

Proteus shielded his eyes as he checked his work.  The daily chore of polishing of the large brass sheet affixed to the top of the furthest outcropping of the island Pharos could not be disregarded even on a beautiful sunny spring day such as this.  The boats that accessed the Nile Delta from the sea relied on its reflective surface during the day to avoid the rocks of the island.  Satisfied with his work, he willed the column of water supporting him toward the beach.  As the wave churned below his feet, he turned to gaze at the horizon.  A series of black specks were making their way toward the island and as they got closer the sun glinted off their slick surfaces.  Proteus’ heart leaped with joy although a shiver of concern raced down his spine. 

           

The monk seals bred year-round, but Proteus had convinced his colony to designate spring as their time to journey to the uninhabited islands of the Aegean Sea to mate.  The spring weather thawed the blood of adventurers and would-be heroes and they flocked to the island of Pharos in search of the eldest son of Poseidon.  They would hunt the hermit hoping his foresight would aid them on their journeys.  After he successfully eluded their efforts, the hunters did not want to leave the island emptyhanded and would turn to hunt his seals instead.  He sent the youths along with the adults so he could concentrate his energy on protecting the elderly seals.  The hunters typically did not want their aged and mottled flesh, but frustration would make them lash out at the easy prey.  Returning seals meant that there was danger in the breeding grounds and more bodies for him to protect. 

          

  Proteus called a wave to speed the seals toward the beach and waited out on the water to race them to shore.  As the wave pulled them closer, he noticed the seals were the young males of the colony and were taking turns supporting a large mass of seaweed.  Proteus relaxed.  Just a member of the herd caught up in a fisherman’s net.  A simple fix and I can send them on their way.  He turned toward the beach and crouched into a runner’s stance on top of his column of water as the wave carrying the seals neared.  When the waves merged, he shot across the expanse.  He reached the beach and turned to roll and laugh with the youngsters and was shocked to see they were still a little ways out supporting the form within the net.  Odd, they usually feel comfortable abandoning their charge so close to the island and allowing the waves to bring it in.

           

The cluster of seals reached the shore and struggled to bring their seaweed bundle further up onto the beach.  Once again concerned, Proteus ran toward the seals to help them.  He grabbed the mass and heaved it back from the lap of the waves.  As he settled it to the ground, he noticed the face of a man peeking out from the tangle of muck.  A trick! Proteus turned and leaped. Four feet grazed the ground as Proteus raced away in his leopard form.  He stopped at the top of a dune and turned to survey the scene below.  The seals had managed to nose open the tangle of weeds and pull them slightly away from the man’s form and one seal used its body to support the man’s head and shoulders of the ground.  The group stared at Proteus, clearly unamused with his actions. 

           

Still fearing a trap, Proteus’ leopard form dissolved into water and cut a channel down the dune toward the man.  He pooled around the man to see if he could sense life in the motionless body.  Proteus shocked back into his original form and gripped his head.  Shaking off the shock, he ran to his camp grabbed a silver bowl and returned to the beach.  He scooped seawater into the bowl and swirled it muttering under his breath.  The smooth silver of the bowl reflected the blue expanse of sky stretching above.  The salt and sand clouded the reflection and the face of a fearsome man appeared in the bowl.

        

    “Lord Vishnu, thank you for answering my meditations,” Proteus addressed the face peering up from the bowl.

         

   “Proteus, Rishi of Poseidon!  I sensed your urgency how can I assuage your distress?”

            “I have a Greek boy here projecting a dual future.  I have never experienced foresight of this manner, it is quite…”

           

“Greek?  Why do you summon me and not your father?” Vishnu interrupted. 

       

     “One of the visions is of you laying your hands on a broken creature and restoring it to the form of a bird the size of a mountain.”  Vishnu looked shocked, an expression that Proteus never expected to see on the face of a god. 

       

     “I am greatly weakened due to my avatars engagement in war,” Vishnu reached to his right ear and removed an earring. “I shall send a Makara to transport the boy.”  The image of Vishnu faded, and the sky was once again visible in the bowl.

           

“That takes care of the transportation,” a voice spoke from behind Proteus, “but I need him to survive the journey.”  Proteus turned to find Athena crouched over the young man’s form, absentmindedly stroking the head of the seal supporting his body.  “What did you see in your vision?”

          

  “I saw two visions layered together.  One was the mortal bank of the Styx with Charon approaching from the far bank.  The other was of Vishnu in his true form and a bird the size of a mountain.  I was going to find gold for the boy after I contacted Vishnu so he could cross with Charon.”

        

    “Well, we don’t want to spur Charon to come prematurely.  Come.  I need your assistance in preserving this boy’s life.”  Although he was uncertain that the effort would change things, Proteus moved forward and placed his hand on the young man’s chest, willing the water from his lungs.  The young man began breathing shallowly, but his heart remained sluggish.  Athena pulled the sodden mess from the boy’s sides and straightened it on the sand.  “Can you wick the water from these wings?”

          

  “Wings?” responded Proteus.  He looked harder at the mass.  “That’s seaweed.”

           

“Humor me,” Athena retorted flatly.  Proteus laid his hands on the masses and drew the water away.  Athena pulled a decorative comb from her hair and smoothed out the dried mass.  Proteus finally recognized the pattern of wings.  Athena pulled two spools of delicate thread from the ether.  She pulled out a length of thread from one of the spools.  “Stick out your hands,” she commanded.  She draped the length over his right hand and placed the spool on the left.  She then unwrapped a third of a meter from the other spool and tied it to the length extended between Proteus’ hands.  She expertly weaved the short piece toward the spool in Proteus’ hand.  When she was done, she set the spool in Proteus’ hand holding the loose thread and picked up the spool from his left hand while pinching the knot she tied.  The length and spool resting in Proteus’ right hand disappeared back into the ether.  Athena pulled out a silver needle, threaded it from the spool in her hand and began sewing the wings to the arms of the young man.

Author's Note:

The Story of Proteus: Proteus was the eldest son of Poseidon.  He had the gift of foresight and was sought by adventurers to tell their future.  He was a shapeshifter and used this ability to escape from men because he was not particularly interested in being a seer.  He lived on the island of Pharos, an island off the coast of Alexandria, Egypt with a colony of seals.  

Side note: Athena and Poseidon have a rivalry going on, so she's not very friendly with his offspring.

I had fun trying to figure out how to get Icarus out of the ocean Proteus and his seals were an interesting read.  The island of Pharos is home of the Lighthouse of Alexandria.  The lighthouse was erected in 3rd century BCE, 2 centuries after the story I am writing takes place.  The polished bronze is an homage to the lighthouse that would eventually stand on the island.  At the time it was built, the lighthouse was one of the tallest structures in the world.  

The George Washington Masonic National Memorial in Alexandria, VA was designed based on the lighthouse.  I had the great fortune of attending a banquet and touring the Memorial.  By today's standard, it does not seem very tall, but the view from the top of the Memorial is beautiful.

Bibliography:

Proteus- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Proteus

Mediterranean Monk Seal- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mediterranean_monk_seal

Week 9 Story, Vengeance of the Sun God Part 3

A cool mist enveloped Daedalus and chased away the scorching heat.  He blinked his eyes, clearing his vision.  The flash of light was so magnificent that it dazzled his vision even through closed eyes.  If they had been open when the light appeared, he certainly would have been blinded.  Daedalus rolled to his knees and looked at the altar.  The wood remained unlit, and a golden man stood behind it, gently running his fingers across the wings positioned on top. The grief that Daedalus felt was mirrored in the lines etched deeply on the man’s face.  

Behind the man rested a chariot flanked by two people.  One, a man calming glittering horses.  The other, a woman with arms raised and serene concentration on her face.  The cool mist that brought Daedalus back to consciousness permeated the area around the new arrivals, muting the heavenly light.  Daedalus recognized the couple near the chariot.  Helios and (mom’s name), the divine parents of (queen’s name), which he had met on several occasions when he was still welcome in the court of King Minos.  Daedalus’ surprise dissipated and he remembered his manners.  He touched his face to the sand to honor his visitors.  The man by the altar must have been Apollo.  Daedalus waited, prostrate, to be addressed.

“Put on the wings,” Apollo commanded with a thick, choking voice.  Daedalus looked up, incredulous.  Apollo glared at him from across the altar.  “Put on the wings,” he repeated.  Daedalus rose slowly and walked to the altar.  Apollo stared into Daedalus’ eyes.  The god’s eyes shone gold like a beam of light piercing cloudy skies.  Brownish-red spots swam into view inside the charioteer’s irises, giving them the appearance of flowing magma.  “Put on the wings,” Apollo commanded a third time.  The cadence of his voice changing, the words not quite matching up with the lips that were forming them.  

The cadence was familiar and, strangely, made Daedalus’ mouth water.  It hit him. It was the same accent he heard from a young man who traveled with the Venetian spice merchants.  The merchants visited Crete once a year to supply the royal kitchen with rich spices from around the world.  A young Indian man, a favorite of King Minos, would spend his time teaching the palace cooks new recipes from his homeland.  They could never quite replicate the curried rice and crispy fried vegetable dishes the man produced, so King Mino rewarded him richly for his culinary dishes.  

“I couldn’t possibly…” Daedalus began, but grief caught thickly in the back of his throat and he couldn’t continue.  He hung his head.

“Please, Grandson. It is the only way you can perceive the Convergence,” Athena took a step forward, catching Daedalus’ eye.  The look of urgency communicated in her dark eyes encouraged Daedalus to stumble toward Apollo and the altar.  Apollo draped the wings across Daedalus’ shoulders and stepped back. 

The world in front of Daedalus shifted, then sharpened.  The visages of the three visitors dramatically changed and the glow of their skin altering from gold to bronze.  Three additional horses appeared in front of the chariot, bringing the team’s number to seven. Daedalus took a double-take as he took in the lead horse.  The magnificent beast, white as the purest snow, had seven heads.  The man who took Apollo’s place seemed amused at Daedalus’ reaction.

“Please, let me introduce Goddess Saraswathi, Origin of All Knowledge” began the man as he indicated toward Athena.  Daedalus turned to find her form had shifted as well.  Along with the deepened ruddiness of skin, the compeer donned two additional arms, the hands containing additional spools of thread.  My esteemed companions are Lord Surya, Eye of the Universe, his consort, Lady Saranya, and his vahana, Uchchaihshravas, King of the Horses.”  Daedalus bowed to each in turn. 

“I am Aruna, Charioteer of Lord Surya and father of Sampati and Jatayu, those slain to procure your escape.”  His eyes narrowed.  “You are able to perceive us as well as the gods who rule over your people because you are draped in my son Jatayu.  His essence has strengthened your eyesight in both the natural and spiritual realms.”  Saraswathi broke the tension by closing the meager gap between herself and Daedalus.  

“Athena and I brought you to Sicily because the old gods of the island still live in the rocks and trees and each immigrant brings their own gods to protect their hearths and thresholds.  Your Pantheon has a tenacious hold on this island, so it is easier for mine to reach out to you.”  Her form guttered like a candle and was replaced with Athena.

“Each deity is one soul containing infinite forms; or essences.  The form that appears depends on the essence of the mortal that perceives us.  Your essence calls forth the Olympians.  Jatayu’s essence beckons the Deva-Asuras.  The many types of essences located on this island soften the bonds between gods and devotees.  Jatayu’s essence is no longer attached to a mortal soul, so his essence is able to veil your soul as his wings shroud your physical form and you are able to observe the Devas.”

“You are each one god with many faces?” asked Daedalus, looking between the deities surrounding him.  Ever the scientist, he quickly evaluated this new information and produced a hypothesis. “Your omniscience allows each follower to discern the form they would be most comfortable with.  Faces that resemble their own.  Language they understand.”  Athena’s face glimmered and two faces simultaneously smiled and nodded.  Surya cleared his throat. 

“We are here to offer you the chance to make up for a grievous error,” he stated.  “You may have lost your son, but you can grant new life to Jatayu.  We can take you to India and bind his essence to your soul.  He can live a full life and fulfill his divine mission.”

“How?” asked Daedalus.  “I’m not immortal.  I have no interest to be.  Will you strip my essence from my soul?  I just lost my son.  I will gladly sacrifice myself to join him and bring Jatayu back from Asphodel.”

“Your willingness is admirable and honorable,” responded Surya.  He nodded toward the Goddesses of Knowledge.  “Let us begin.”    

Author's Note:

I don't know why Daedalus ended up in Sicily after the flight.  The island that Icarus' body supposedly ended up on (Icaria) is marked on the map below.  That's a weird trip.  Why did Daedalus fly over Greece and just keep going?

Map courtesy of Google Maps and Microsoft editing tools.

When Daedalus reached Sicily, he offered his wings as a sacrifice to Apollo, built a temple to Apollo, and lived the rest of his life in the service of the Sicilian king.  

I did a lot of random research for this part of the story.  There were three tribes of people who lived in Sicily before the Greeks took over in 6th c. BCE.  Two of the three tribes followed gods that were not Greek.  I also learned how royalty is supposed to be introduced.  Saraswati is the highest-ranking Deva, so she is introduced before Surya.  

Bibliography:

Apollo's Chariot (horses)-https://greekmythology.wikia.org/wiki/Apollo%27s_Chariot

Saranya- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saranyu

Sicily-https://www.britannica.com/place/Sicily#ref79309

Uchchaihshravas-https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uchchaihshravas

           

Week 7 Vengeance of the Sun God, Part 2

Vengeance of the Sun God, Part 2

*Part 1 can be found at  http://mrsedenela.oucreate.com/indianepics/story-1/. *

     Daedalus watched his son intently as they flew across the sparkling Aegean Sea toward freedom.  The boy's eyes narrowed in concentration, his furrowed brow glistening with sweat.  It was after several leagues of fixing his full attention on Icarus that Daedalus realized that he was not struggling as much as the boy.  In fact, he was not struggling at all.  It was as if the feathers retained their muscle memory of flying although they were no longer attached to the muscles that directed their flight.  Daedalus tried to will the wings closer to Icarus so he could share his revelation: the wings knew how to fly on their own.  

     Before he could figure out how to communicate his plan to the wings strapped around his arms, Daedalus saw Icarus jerk his face toward the sky.  A shock of fear spread across the boy's face.  Daedelus glanced up at the sun to see what had frightened the boy but saw nothing other than the glaring sun.  As he looked back toward his son, a surge of fear gripped his own gut.  The air swam around Icarus, turning the boy's form into a mirage.  Icarus had hit a pocket of condensation, assumed Daedalus.  Horror thrilled through his body as he waited for the coming downdraft to force Icarus towards the sea.  Daedalus opened his mouth to shout out a warning, but a foreign voice broke through his lips.

     "Sampati! No!"  As if responding to the strange voice, the wings carrying Icarus angled expertly, causing the boy to bank left.  As a thermal caught him, the wings snapped wide and the condensation around Icarus cleared.  As the image sharpened, Daedalus saw the form of a great eagle instead of his son.  The eagle arced sharply upward and blocked the sight of the sun from Daedalus.  Suddenly, the wings collapsed around Icarus, the image of the great eagle gone as Icarus plunged head-first into the waves of the Aegean.  

***

     The shock of the events that passed before Daedalus paralyzed him.  The wings continued to maneuver on their own, preventing Daedalus from following his son head-first into the sea below.  Daedalus's mind was back in the prison tower.  

     Late at night: Daedalus bent over the apparatus.  Icarus, who was in charge of stirring the beeswax used to affix the feathers to the scaffolding, would occasionally stay his father's hand and pass the paddle's handle over to Daedalus to take over the constant motion over the low fire.  Icarus would pick through the feathers and, using an artist's eye, sort the feathers into two piles.  Daedalus assumed that Icarus had studied the plumage of the giant eagles as he plucked the feathers from their corpses, but the feathers had whispered to the boy's subconscious directing his efforts to ensure that each wing was replicated exactly.  

     Daedelus fretted over his choice of using the beeswax as the two worked.  He wished he could have obtained more than the minuscule sampling of pine pitch from the Cretian engineers.  The sturdy tar would hold better than the beeswax, but King Minos was afraid that Daedalus would use the pitch as a weapon against the guards.  Which he would have.  Daedalus was only allowed enough to perform experiments in order to discover new ways to refine the tar for new uses in the kingdom.   

     "Not too high, the sun may melt the wax," Daedalus remembered warning his son the first time they melted the wax.

      "Not too high, the sun may melt the wax," Daedalus was positive he warned Icarus each time they made design adjustments to the wings.

      "Not too high, the sun may melt the wax," Daedelus replayed in his mind, over and over, each instance he gave his son this critical advice as he sailed along.  The paralysis that gripped Daedalus saved his life.  If he had been able to move, he would have driven himself into the sea.  The wings continued their journey, flying on a crosswind that caught the magnificent feathers and angled them west.  

 ***

     Land finally came into view.  The wings folded into an elegant dive, snapping open again when the water met the shore and setting Daedalus gently on the sandy beach.  Daedalus's legs crumpled under him when the wings no longer supported his weight.  Blinding rage overtook him.  A howl of anguish burst from his lips as he clawed at the bindings that held his arms to the apparatus.  It was more an act of mutilation than of emancipation.  His fingernails carved deep red welts into his skin, at places breaking through and drawing blood.  The blood loosed the bindings of the apparatus and Daedalus ripped the wings from his back. 

     Once freed from the weight of the wings, Daedalus began to mourn his son.  Hot tears mixed with sticky blood, sand, and sea salt and seemed to call an invocation to the heavens.  A gentle hand rested upon his shoulder.  Blinking away the stinging mist from his eyes, Daedalus half-turned and looked up.  A familiar face smiled with sympathy.  She held two spools of silk twine, one in each hand.  Daedalus glanced at his shoulder, looking for the hand that continued to provide its calming pressure.  Nothing was there.  Fearing he was beginning to lose his mind, he looked up imploringly into the face of the woman beside him.

     "Athena," he stated simply.

     "Hello, Grandson," she replied warmly.  "You must get up.   We have much work to do."

***

     Sweaty and exhausted, Daedalus looked up from the altar he constructed from rocks collected from along the waterfront.  Dried driftwood had been placed in the center.  The work had cleared his head and he finally focused on the scenery beyond the beach.

     "This isn't Greece," he observed.  "Where are we?  Why did the wings bring me here?"

     "This is the shore of Sicily.  Our essence would be too strong among our own followers to perform a proper Convergence.  Surya and Aruna's combined rage allowed them to Converge for a short time, but they would not be able to hold form long enough for a conversation."  Athena smiled at the look of confusion of Daedalus's face.  "Place the wings on the altar, Grandson.  Strike the fire and call for my brother, Apollo."

     Daedalus knelt next to the altar and removed his fire kit from the pouch tied at his waist.  He made a nest of tinder on the edge of the altar and placed his hands just above.  Poised to strike the first ember, he closed his eyes.  He could not find the proper words to pray to Apollo.  He packed all of his grief and pain into a single word and whispered, "Apollo."  As he brought the sharp stone to strike against unyielding metal, a brilliant light flashed as scorching heat blew Daedalus onto his back.  

***

*Author's Note:  

The story of Jatayu and Sampati, Sons of Aruna:  The two young vultures enjoyed racing each other each day.  One day as they were racing, they annoyed their father Aruna, the charioteer of Surya the Sun God.  Aruna sent a scorching ray to punish his sons.  Sampati raced above Jatayu and shielded him from the blast.  Sampati fell to the earth.  Unable to fly because he was severely disfigured, Sampati lived in a cave by the shore on the southern tip of India.  

I didn't understand why Aruna would scorch his sons just for being annoying.  I mean, I'm a human and I manage to not maim my children when they annoy me.  I decided to blend this story with the story of Daedalus and Icarus.  I'm still doing research to figure out how to bring Jatayu and Sampati back to life.  I have ideas, I'm just trying to decide if Surya or Indra would be the right god for the job.  Maybe a combined effort?  

I chose the references below because they explain the parts of the myths that I drew from in a better way than Wikipedia or Britannica did and some of them have really cool pictures.   

   

Bibliography

"Angel Wing Clipart Png #1699972." Clipart Email. Clipart Email, 2020. 

     https://www.clipart.email/download/1699972.html.

Daedalus   https://www.greekmythology.com/Myths/Mortals/Daedalus/daedalus.html                          

Daedalus 2    http://www.maicar.com/GML/Daedalus.html                                             

Icarus    https://www.greekmythology.com/Myths/Mortals/Icarus/icarus.html 
Apollo    https://apollogreekmyth.weebly.com/areas-of-rule-and-weaponspowers.html                        Helios  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helios#Conflation_with_Apollo

Athena's Weapon  https://sophia-nick-athena.weebly.com/tools-weapons-or-attributes.html
Jatayu https://www.giantbomb.com/jatayu/3005-19521/
Sampati https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sampati
Aruna https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aru%E1%B9%87a
Surya https://www.ancient.eu/Surya/

Week 5 Story: Vengeance of the Sun God, Pt. 1

**Update**

A copy of this story is located at http://mrsedenela.oucreate.com/indianepics/story-1/.  That is the version that will be receiving revisions.  Thanks for your help and support!

                                                              

                                                                                            -Eden  

(Image courtesy of ClipArtEmail.)

Vengeance of the Sun God

     Daedalus let the rope slip quickly over the window sill.  He had saved weeks of his rations and packed them along with valuable tools to trade for additional supplies for his son Icarus. The young man and supplies were now on the opposite side of the rope disappearing into the darkness below.  Daedalus sent his son on an impossible task: find feathers from the wings of the mythical giant eagle so both father and son could escape from the prison of King Minos.  

     There were no giant eagles, Daedalus knew, but Icarus refused to escape without his father.  The long years Daedalus spent engineering the labyrinth below the city of Crete had taken its toll.  There was no way he could manage an escape from the island, so he created a design for magnificent wings that could carry him on the wind across the sea to Greece.  The design was scientifically sound, and it was easy to convince Icarus that giant eagles existed.  The search would take the boy far away from the prison tower and keep him safely away from their enemies.  Icarus was a determined boy and would not return until he found the fabled feathers, which would be never.    

***

     Icarus traced the stories of the giant eagles to the land of India.  His journey was long and arduous.  He had traded all the tools his father had packed away for him, saving only the knife his father smithed for him: a large dagger, shaped to represent Zeus' thunderbolt, the tang buried into a piece of the Minotaur's horn.  His remaining supplies were scant, but now he was standing on the mountain overlooking the roosting site of the giant eagles; the nearly empty bag was now a welcome supply. It had plenty of space to fill with those coveted wings.  

     Two young, strong eagles had breezed in on the evening air, settling to roost. As the night deepened, Icarus crept along the thick branches and slew the two eagles.  As the second body fell to the rocky mountain terrain below a gleaming light appeared beside Icarus.

     "What have you done?!" a throaty feminine voice cried as the light dissipated around her strong form.  "Grandson, what caused you to act so unwisely?  This is not the way of our clan!"  It was Athena, the matriarch of the clan Metionid, and the benefactor of Icarus's father Daedalus.  "Do you know who you have just slain?  These corpses were Jatayu and Sampati, beloved sons of Aruna, the charioteer of Surya- the embodiment of the Sun God that serves the people of India."

     "I was sent by my father.  Their wings are the only way that he can escape the tower we have been trapped in," replied Icarus defiantly.  "You once favored him, but now he rots in a prison, a slave to King Minos."

     "Because your father's actions resulted in the loss of Aruna's sons," prophesied Athena, her stormy grey eyes boring into the sky blue eyes set in the face of Icarus, "your father will also lose his son."  In a flash, Athena disappeared.  Unsure of what else to do, Icarus remained committed to his quest and climbed to the base of the tree to remove the magnificent feathers that made up the wings of the Aruna's sons.

***

     Intermittent plinking sounds began at the window shortly after sundown.  Assuming it was the clouds struggling to produce rain, Daedalus hurried across the room to close the shutters.  As he reached the window, something stung his forehead.  Looking down at the floor, he noticed several pebbles strewn under the window.  He thrust his head out the window and looked to the base of the tower.  Fortunately, Icarus saw his head extended out the window, and froze, arm cocked, ready to loose another pebble.  Shocked, Daedalus quickly lowered a rope to his son.

***

     The two Metionids stood atop the tower.  Daedalus had affixed assorted instruments to the ramparts in order to gauge the weather.  The finished wings were stored safely in a pine box waiting for the seasons to turn and bring the hearty spring wind that would carry them to Athens.  Icarus watched the instruments closely.  The wind toward the mainland, bringing about a barometric change.  "Father, it's time," stated Icarus as he threw open the lid of his pine box.  They strapped on the wings and climbed to balance on the ramparts.

***

     The experience was both shocking and wonderful.  Wind zipped through Icarus's hair as he worked to gain control of his wings.  Not too high, instructed Daedalus when he was giving Icarus ground lessons, hiding behind the ramparts struggling to remain unseen, the wax holding the feathers to the apparatus will melt.  Not too low, Daedalus reminded his son before they jumped into the wind, the sea spray will weigh you down.  

     Icarus's confidence increased, but he remained mindful of his position between the sun and the sea.  Suddenly, an odd movement from above caught his eye.  He looked toward the sun, tracking the motion.  When his eyes adjusted, he realized that a flaming chariot was quickly approaching him and his father.  As it got closer, he saw two men within the chariot.  One man driving, and the other testing the strength of his bow.  The men's bodies shimmered like the heat off of desert sand.  Each man was a dual image, first looking like the Greeks and the next moment sharing the facial features and dress of the Indian clans that Icarus traveled with on his quest.  

     The bowman drew an arrow of pure fire and aimed it at Daedalus.  "This is for Aruna, my most faithful servant!" he cried.

     "You slew my sons," stated the charioteer staring directly at Icarus.  His face once again shifted and solidified into the face of the man who was surely Aruna.  "Your father will pay with his life!"

     Without thinking, Icarus banked to the left and caught a thermal pocket that sped him closer to the chariot, placing him above Daedalus.  The image of Surya solidified as the arrow was loosed.  Icarus spiraled out of the sky and hit the water.  The weight of the wing apparatus dragged him below the waves.

***

To Be Continued...

Author's Note:

The story of Sampati and Surya made me think of Daedalus and Icarus.  I thought it was strange that the eagles' father would be annoyed enough at them soaring around the chariot that he would strike out at them, causing Sampati to suffer serious damage.  If you want to know how they showed up in the Ramayana if they were murdered by Icarus, you'll get that part of the story during the next writing session.  I've got some cool ideas about that, but it would definitely double the word count limit.  The next part will be more India heavy than this one was.  India has cooler creation gods, and I think they can handle reanimating a couple of sentient eagles.  

Bibliography

Daedalus   https://www.greekmythology.com/Myths/Mortals/Daedalus/daedalus.html                          

Daedalus 2    http://www.maicar.com/GML/Daedalus.html                                             

Icarus    https://www.greekmythology.com/Myths/Mortals/Icarus/icarus.html                                        Apollo    https://apollogreekmyth.weebly.com/areas-of-rule-and-weaponspowers.html                          Helios  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helios#Conflation_with_Apollo

Athena's Weapon  https://sophia-nick-athena.weebly.com/tools-weapons-or-attributes.html
Jatayu https://www.giantbomb.com/jatayu/3005-19521/
Sampati https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sampati
Aruna https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aru%E1%B9%87a
Surya https://www.ancient.eu/Surya/

    

Week Three Story: The Prophecy of Brahma Rishi

Week Three Story: The Prophecy of Brahma Rishi

Image: Actor Rishabh Shukla as Dasharatha in Zee TV's 'Ramayana'
  Courtesy of ZEENEWS.)

It came time for Dasaratha, King of Kosala, to see to the education of his four sons. Although the land was filled with many fine Brahmins, their expertise focused solely on austerities and they knew little about governing.  Gossip of a pilgrimage undertaken by Viswamithra had reached King Dasaratha.  Knowing the path of the pilgrimage would bring the former king near the city of Ayodhya, Dasaratha called on Vasishtha, his royal priest, with the intention of sending him to intercept Viswamithra and inviting the sage to spend a few days of respite within the palace.  Dasaratha hoped that through his offer of hospitality he could convince Viswamithra to become the governor in charge of the young princes.

As Dasaratha was preparing Vasishtha for his journey, a herald approached the king to announce that the honorable Brahma Rishi had come to the palace and requested an audience.  Dasaratha looked at Vasishtha with concern.

"Who is this Brama Rishi," Dasaratha asked.

"He is known as a powerful seer," replied Vasishtha.  "If he is requesting an audience, it is best to accept.  The gods must have an important message for you if he has traveled all this way."  Dasaratha briefly considered the words of Vasishtha.  

"Very well.  You are my most trusted advisor and also a favorite of the gods," Dasaratha turned to the herald and requested that Brahma Rishi be granted an audience and treated as an honored guest.  As the doors opened and the guards escorted in the seer, Dasaratha began laughing warmly as Vasishtha uttered a surprised gasp and rushed toward their visitor.  

"Viswamithra!" shouted Vasishtha. Remembering who he was speaking to, Vasishtha quickly bowed at the feet of the visitor. "I was just preparing to intercept your journey and bring you here at the request of the king!  I do apologize on behalf of all of Ayodhya.  We were informed that the seer Brahma Rishi was our guest.  If you will allow me to place you in the audience of the king, I will arrange a reception more fitting of your station."  Viswamithra matched Dasaratha's laughter as he bent and took the hand of the priest.

"Ah, Vasishtha, my friend!  You honor me more than my new station warrants." Viswamithra pulled Vasishtha to his feet and grasped his shoulders warmly.  "You see, I am the one known as Brahma Rishi.  Retirement grew boring and unfulfilling.  As I focused on my austerities, the gods chose to bless me with this new title along with the gift of prophecy. And you, my oldest friend," Viswamithra turned toward Dasaratha, walking quickly and leaving the guards behind, "the gods have sent me to respond to your request of a governor."  

"Praise the Gods," cried Dasaratha, "but the journey has been long, and we must give you a place to rest."

"That is kind, yet unnecessary," responded Viswamithra.  "My austerities have given me mastery over my body.  I am not in want of food or rest at the moment.  I should like to continue my audience with you.  If Vasishtha could be allowed to stay, I would appreciate his company as well." In spite of Viswamithra's insistence, Dasaratha bid to the guards to bring in couches and refreshments.  Once the three men were lounging comfortably, Viswamithra looked expectantly at the king, waiting for his permission to continue with the business that brought him to Ayodhya.

"So, old friend, you have answered the call to educate my sons," began Dasaratha.  "I can think of no one better to mentor my eldest son Rama in the ways of a king and my other sons in following their austerities." The seer looked thoughtfully at the goblet in his hand, gently swirling the golden liquid inside.  "Ah, I know that face," continued Dasaratha.  Do you still delight your dinner companions with stories, or as Brahma Rishi have you replaced your stories with lectures?"  

"Stories are superior to lectures when passing on wisdom," replied Viswamithra. "There is a story from a country in the west about a man called Abraham who is known as the Father of Nations.  His plight was much the same as your past plight.  He and his wife Sarah were unable to conceive and prayed devoutly to their god to bless them with children.  Sarah was desperate for children, so she gave her servant Hagar to Abraham as a wife.  Hagar became pregnant and bore Abraham a son named Ishmael.  Many years later, although Sarah and Abraham had passed into their evening years, their god performed a miracle and Sarah became pregnant.  After Sarah gave birth to Abraham's son, named Isaac, she became overwhelmed with jealousy.  

'If I am truly your favorite wife, you will drive out Hagar and that thief Ishmael!  He has stolen the birthright that God has intended for Isaac.'  Abraham was distraught, but his love for Sarah caused him to exile Hagar and Ishmael.  He packed supplies for them and sent them into the desert.  Soon, the exiles were out of food and water.  Ishmael became so weak that he collapsed under a shrub.  Hagar, unable to watch the death of her son, crawled away from the shrub and cried.  The depth of her anguish reached the ears of her god and she and Ishmael were provided with a deep cool well to ensure their survival.  Although Isaac received the inheritance of Abraham-the blessing to become a nation, their god provided Ishmael with the same birthright and brought forth a nation through Ishmael on the land that saved his life and the life of his mother."

Dasaratha stared dumbfounded at Viswamithra. "Are you insinuating that I would dare exile my son Rama?  He who is the best of us all? He is the firstborn of my first wife.  There is none who could challenge his birthright!"  

Vasishtha cleared his throat.  Looking down at his hands, he quietly muttered, "have you forgotten the promise you made to the father of your second, and favorite, wife?  Bharatha could challenge Rama if he knew the commitment you made to win the hand of Kaikeyi."

"I would like to mentor young Rama," stated Viswamithra. "I need someone strong and capable to accompany me on my pilgrimage to Sidhasrama."   

"I am not exiling my son based on a story from another land!" shouted Dasaratha.  "Do you expect me to believe that the gods that granted me Rama would send you to take the youth away?"

"This is not an exile.  As I said, I would like to mentor Rama.  His exile will come at some point in the future and the gods have sent me to prepare him to withstand it."  Viswamithra rose from his couch, "I request to take leave of you my king.  I need to prepare to return on my journey, and I would like to give you time to think about my offer."  Dasaratha was staring sullenly out the window, so Vasishtha caught the seer's eye and gave him a slight nod of dismissal. 

 As the door closed, Dasaratha spit the words, "Brahma Rishi!" as if the words were venom.  "He is a dethroned king playing at being a holy man.  He has come to steal my son from me!"

Vasishtha turned and bowed toward the king.  "Your Majesty.  If I may advise you on this situation..."

"Yes, please, Vasishtha.  You have always been a sensible counselor on all matters concerning this court," replied Dasaratha.  

"I would like to remind you that Abraham, Father of Nations is the ancestor of King David.  He was also exiled by his predecessor, but before his exile, he was mentored by a holy man by the name of Samuel and aided by his predecessor's son Jonathan.  David and Jonathan were as close as brothers.  Without Samuels tutelage and Jonathan's unwavering support, I doubt David would be the king he is today.  He is a just ruler that is loved by his people, and I have often heard that he is a man after his god's own heart.  He has delivered his people from the scourge of the Philistines."  Vasishtha paused, weighing his words carefully.  "I have long suspected that Rama is meant to deliver our people from the brutality of the rakshasas.  Do not forget that Viswamithra was once a conqueror of lands, and trained his fiercest warriors himself.  He is the mentor that Rama needs."

"Yes," conceded Dasaratha, "I see your logic.  But who am I to send as his Jonathan?  Bharatha?  Surely that will drive a wedge between the two and quicken the demand of Rama's exile"

"That is a simple decision.  Lakshamana and Rama have been joined at the hip since birth.  Wherever you send Rama, he will refuse to go without Lakshamana.  The same is true if you were to send away Lashamana."

Dasaratha sighed.  "It is settled, then.  Rama and Lakshamana shall be outfitted with the palace's best weapons and sent with Viswamithra on his pilgrimage to Sidhasrama.  In the meantime, I will devise a way to prevent Rama's exile.  It is his birthright.  I shall pay the price for my foolish words, not him."  Dasaratha stood and straightened his garments.  "Guards, send for the Brahma Rishi."

Artist's Note:

I am reading R.K. Narayan's adaptation of The Ramayana.  Leading up to the exile scene, it is obvious that Dasaratha knows that Bharatha will somehow stand between Rama and the throne, so he attempts to distract Bharatha and Bharatha's grandpa while getting ready for Rama's coronation.  I wondered how Dasaratha knew, there's no indication in Narayan's version.

I also want to merge the stories we're reading with stories that we might be more familiar with.  I've always felt sorry for Hagar, even though Ishmael became the father of a nation.  The way that Rama's own mother and stepmother responded to the news of Rama's exile made me think of how Hagar felt when she thought Ishmael was going to die.  Lakashama and Rama's relationship made me think of David and Jonathan's relationship, and since David was also exiled, I decided he was also an important parallel to make.  I don't know when the timeline of King David happens in relation to the timeline of the Ramayana, so I just decided to make David a current king that Dasaratha would be aware of and would respect.  

Yes, I know that this turned out way longer than our writing prompt limit, but I was having fun with it.  I've been working on dialogue in my creative writing, so you guys have to suffer through my drafts while I'm practicing!

Ishmael's story comes from Genesis chapters 16 and 22.  David's story spans through the books of Samuel 1 and 2.  

The image at the head of the post comes from The Ramayana telenovela that was popular in India during the 1980s.  I know Indians don't call their shows telenovelas, but it makes sense to me label it as that genre.

Bibliography

Narayan, R.K. The Ramayana: A Shortened Modern Prose Version of the Indian Epic. 1972. Penguin Books, 2006.

YouVersion. The Bible. The Message Version. https://www.bible.com/. Accessed January 30, 2020.

 

 

Week Two Story: Rampion and Figs

(Image Information: Rapunzel of India by Julia Jacob.)

Artist Spotlight: Julia Jacob

Julia is an amazing artist, architecture student, and aspiring storyteller.  Her art ranges from fan art and character reimaginings (like the Indian Rapunzel above) to original works.  You can view her art, watch her drawing process, or buy her a cup of coffee.  I cannot wait to see what she creates in the future!

Rampion and Figs

A western scholar traveled to India to learn the ways of the Buddha.  One evening, the Master was unwell and asked the students for a volunteer to share a story in lieu of the Master's evening tale. Another young man who viewed the scholar as a rival spoke up.  "Master, perhaps our western Brother can share a tale from his homeland."  The scholar readily complied.

"Once upon a time in a land far away..." began the scholar.  

"Once?  Far away?" interrupted the rival.  "Do you not know the origins of your tales, Scholar?" 

"It is the tradition of my people to begin stories in this manner." replied the scholar.  "Once upon a time in a land far away, there lived a farmer and his wife.  The farmer's wife was great with child and could do little more than sit by her window and await the birth of their child.  The farmer grew all manners of vegetables and herbs and their farm was well-tended and produced in abundance.  However, there was one plant that did not grow on their property.  On the neighboring farm, acres of rampion grew, but none would grow on their own farm."

"Excuse me, rampion?" barked the rival as he smothered a laugh. "What on earth is that?"

Composing himself, the scholar replied, "It's a European bellflower.  Makes a great salad.  Now, the farmer's wife craved the rampion but was afraid to approach her neighbor because the neighbor was rumored to be a witch.  However, she thought about the tasty rampion night and day.  She nearly went mad with desire.

'Dear Husband,' the farmer's wife cried, 'if I do not have some of that rampion, I'll surely die!'  The farmer was also afraid of the neighbor, but his wife looked so miserable he decided to concoct a plan to get the rampion.  He could easily slip over the fence in the dark and take some of the rampion without his neighbor noticing.  After all, he was young, lithe, and strong, and the witch was old and blind and seldom left her cottage.

The farmer slipped over the fence in the dead of night and began cutting leaves off the nearest plant.  His confidence quickly built and he decided to exit through the gate rather than go back over the fence.  As he turned to walk toward the gate, he came nose to nose with his neighbor.

'Farmer!  What brings you over the fence into my garden,' the witch demanded.

'One of our chicks got separated and wandered under the fence,'  replied the farmer, congratulating himself on his quick thinking.  Surely the milky-eyed witch could not tell that what his satchel contained.

'You fool!', screamed the witch. 'I know you have taken some of my crop.  I shall turn you into a rat because only a rat would sneak into a garden and steal something that would have been freely given if asked!'

'No!  No!', cried the farmer, shaking and falling to his knees. 'Please! My wife needs this, or she will die!  She is pregnant and will soon be giving birth.  She needs me!'

'Your wife can have as much rampion as she wants, but you must choose the payment for my crop.' replied the witch.  'I can either turn you into a rat and keep you as a pet, or you can bring me the infant when it is born.'

'I will bring you the baby in exchange for the rampion and my life,' promised the farmer.  The farmer's wife ate rampion to her heart's content.  Soon, she gave birth to a baby girl, and the farmer forgot about his promise to the witch.  One evening, the witch appeared at the cottage to collect the infant.  The witch took the baby and named her Rapunzel, in honor of the plant that brought her such a precious boon.  The witch..."

"We have a story much like that," interrupted the rival.  Without waiting for a response from the scholar, he launched into his own tale.  

"During the time of Brahmadatta's reign in Benares, the Bodhisatta came to life again as the Monkey-King.  He lived in a valley next to the Ganges that was rich with fruit trees and other tasty plants.  The Monkey-King grew large and strong as he lived and played on the banks of the river.  A Crocodile and his wife moved to a nearby bank to start a family.  Crocodile's wife soon went to nest.  As she sat on the bank watching over her eggs, she would watch the Monkey-King bound up and down his area of the bank.  She began to crave the Monkey-King's heart, thinking how tasty it would be.

'Dear Husband,' Crocodile's wife cried, 'if I do not have the heart of the Monkey-King, I'll surely die! I fear that I am done for because the Monkey-King is too strong to overpower and too smart to outthink.'  Wanting to prove his prowess to his wife, Crocodile quickly thought up a grand scheme to outsmart and overpower the Monkey-King.

'Halloo! Monkey-King!' Shouted Crocodile as he approached the Monkey-King's bank.  'Grand day isn't it?  Oh, my.  In this bright light, I can tell your fruit is not faring well in this heat.  I just came from the far side of the river, and there are gorgeous fruits over there that you've never even heard of.'

'Halloo, Crocodile!' the Monkey-King responded.  I'm always interested in trying new things. Unfortunately, although I can swim close to the bank, I don't think I can make it to the far side of the river.'

'No worries, Friend Monkey.  I can take you across on my back,' promised Crocodile.  The Monkey-King stepped on to Crocodile's back and settled in for the ride.  Crocodile was so confident in his plan that he couldn't resist shouting, 'Ha! I've got you now, Monkey-King!  I am a master of the water.  I will drown you and feed your heart to my wife!  She has been craving your tasty heart while nesting with our eggs.'

'My heart?' cried the Monkey-King. 'Oh, dear!  I'm afraid your wife will be sorely disappointed.  You see, we monkeys live a high-risk lifestyle- running and swimming along the banks, swinging and jumping from tree to tree- it just isn't safe for us to carry our hearts within our bodies.  I left it in the Heart-Tree with the other hearts.  If you turn back, I can give you my heart to take back to your wife as a gift.'

'We will go back to get your heart, but you must come with me and tell my wife about how I bested you with my intelligence and my superior swimming skills,' replied Crocodile.  Crocodile took the Monkey-King back to shore.

'There,' stated the Monkey-King, pointing toward a large fig tree.  'That's the Heart-Tree.  If you'll land there I can retrieve my heart from the highest branch.'  Crocodile landed under the fig tree and the Monkey-King bounded lightning-quick to the top.  The Monkey-King turned and addressed Crocodile. 'Let this be a lesson to you, foolish Crocodile.  It was more important for you to be revered for your intelligence and strength that it was for you to care for your family.  If you had been honest in the first place, I could have given you one of my figs for you to share with your wife to give you both the strength and swiftness you will need to care for your many young.  Instead, your wife will curse you for your foolishness.'

You see, Scholar," boasted the rival, "the Monkey-King is like your farmer.  He managed to escape the wicked Crocodile, yet he outsmarted Crocodile and came away from the experience without having to make a sacrifice to escape."

"Actually," interjected the Master, "the Bodhisatta is like the witch.  Both had the capability to freely bless their neighbors, but the farmer and Crocodile chose to approach them with subterfuge rather than truth, and their spouses suffered because of it.  You, however," the Master looked meaningfully at the rival, "are like Crocodile.  You were more concerned with proving to me that your intelligence matched our western Brother that your foolishness robbed us of the opportunity to find out what happened to the little Rampion-Girl.

Author's Note:

I love seeing connections between stories around the world.  These connections show us two things.  1.  Humans share similar concerns and experience no matter where they are located.  2.  World cultures influence each other.  I wanted to show the connections between Rapunzel and The two Crocodile and Monkey-King stories listed in the Jakata Anthology.  I drew on my favorite retelling of Rapunzel from the "Fractured Fairytales" shorts that were part of The Bullwinkle Show cartoons of the 1960s.  Here is a YouTube link to the short: 

Fractured Fairytales: Rapunzel

Bibliography

Chalmers, Robert. "The Crocodile in the River." Vanarinda Jataka, in The Jataka: Volume 1. Web Source: Jakata Anthology

Hayward, Chris, and Chris Jenkyns. "Fractured Fairytales: Rapunzel." The Bullwinkle Show. Jay Ward Productions, 1959.

Shedlock, Marie L. "The Crocodile and the Monkey's Heart." Eastern Stories and Legends. Web Source: Jakata Anthology

Random Information: Rampion and Figs

You can grow both rampion and figs in the United States!  

(Image information: Rampion from
 Strictly Medicinal Seeds.)

Rampion is a flowering herb that was once common in England, as well as other European areas.  Its leaves can be used as in a salad and its roots can be cooked in the style of popular tubers like turnips and parsnips.   According to Botanical.com, rampion tastes like wild dandelion and can be used as a substitution for spinach in the summer and autumn.

Rampion can be used as an herbal treatment for sore throat and other inflammations of the mouth and throat.

 Rampion is a hearty plant and can grow in zones 3 through 9.  Seeds can be ordered for spring planting from the link listed in the image info.

(Image information: Fig Tree from
Dibbs Farms.)

Fig trees are native to Persia, Asia Minor, and Syria and were adopted by other Mediterranian countries.  Figs were introduced to ancient Italy and spread through the warm and temperate climates of Europe.  The fruit of the fig tree can be eaten fresh or dried or fermented for a wine-like drink.  Although figs are grown in the United States, most of our dried figs are imported.  

Figs are mentioned in a variety of world mythologies.  The Sycamore that the biblical character Zacheus climbed to view Jesus is a type of fig tree that was planted near roads because their tall stature and wide-spreading branches provided much-needed shade for travelers.  

The Greeks and Spartans valued the fig because they believed that the fruit added to their strength and swiftness.  Figs are known to be used medicinally as a gentle laxative (probably why the Greeks and Spartans learned to be so quick) and to combat sinus infections and other inflammations of the mucous membranes.  Figs were also boiled and made into poultices for dental abscesses, tumors, and boils.  

Figs can grow easily in zones 8-10 and a few varieties can be grown in zones as low as 5.  Special thanks to Botanical.com where I learned the above information.   Fig trees can be ordered from Dibbs Farms and orders are fulfilled by Wal-Mart.com.