The Pagan Heart
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March 2005 Issue
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Inspiration Speaks Following Epona
Mist creeps between the saplings, curling about my feet as I stand there, waiting. Somewhere ahead of me lies the river Danube, sacred birthplace of our great mother, Epona. I hear the small wash of waves against the shore, hushed in the thick fog, but nothing more. This silence of the predawn when the sun has yet to crest the horizon is my favourite time. The earth lies clean and untouched by time, awaiting the warming heat of Belinos, the sun. I strip off my tunic and braecci, dropping them at my feet, and then walk towards the river, naked. Only my torc clothes me, heavy against my collarbones. A symbol of my status as free-man and warrior, it will never leave my body. It links me to my tribe and my gods - all who see it know I am Vercingetorix, son of the Arverni. The mist parts as I move and the first rays of Belinos trickle through to gild the water before me. Blinded, I squint and rub my eyes. The golden light glitters and shifts across the river's surface and then scatters as the water breaks asunder. A gleaming form rears up and I fall to my knees. It is Epona. She takes the form of a white mare, perfect in every aspect. Her mane ripples down her neck, shimmering with tiny white flowers whose perfume makes my heart stumble with desire. I desire only to worship her - my god. But she desires differently. Stepping towards me she leaves the water and shifts form to that of a woman. Proud and noble, her face is stern with anger. Blue paint swirls across her skin in the markings of war and I hear thunder rumbling in the air. "Vercingetorix." When she speaks my name, I cringe at the rage in her voice. But then my blood surges and I stand tall before her. I am a warrior, leader of my people. I bow before no one - man, woman, or god. Suprisingly, her chill white face warms at my posture, and she smiles. "My champion, why are your people not preparing for war? Do you not see the Roman taint poisoning my land? Are you so eager to hear your sons speak in Latin as they march in Roman cohorts? To see your daughters carried off as slaves, their fierce pride broken?" Her eyes remain grey slate. I have no excuse for my tardiness. I knew the Romans would come, and I did nothing. But times change. My god is with me and I will take my people to war. We will fight for our freedom, and we will make such a noise the gods will remember us when mankind is but dust. And when I die, Epona will come for me and transport me to the Other World where I will live forever with my tribespeople. In 52 BCE, the tribal leader of the Arverni, Vercingetorix, led his people in revolt against the occupying Romans. Ultimately he was defeated by Julius Caesar, taken to Rome as spoils of war and then executed. But for 2 years Vercingetorix was the greatest Gallic opponent faced by the Romans. Mistakes led to his defeat, not inability. As he would have wished, his name and that of his people has never been forgotten. |
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