Every now and then a person enters your universe who implants an unforgettable impression on your psyche and even if that impression leaves a bad taste, you know it is going to stay with you for the whole of your life.
Tanguistl, a witch chanced upon by Alex in “Alex and the Druids’ Eclipse: A Cornish Tale”, is one such personality. Here is her story (Part 1-The Early Years).
I was born during the night of a black moon, a daughter of the Cornovii Tribe, during the time that King Mark held court at Castle Dore. I have been told I was to be sacrificed to the Gods at birth as sacrificial offerings during a Black Moon are far more powerful and potent, bringing increased abundance and health to the tribe.
But my mother, knowing what was expected of her, slipped away into the woods where she called on the ancient earth Goddess Oanuava to take and keep her child. She gave birth and handed me to Oanuava who took me to the Fortunate Isle of Mag Mell. I wasn’t to know the fate of my mother and father until my maiden years had passed. Having deceived the tribe my mother was herself sacrificed according to the rituals of the Celts and my father branded a betrayer and banished.
My life on the Fortunate Isle was isolated. Although I was well cared for, I never set eyes on Oanuava again. The only human interaction I encountered was from my teachers, the ancients from Gaul who made it quite clear I was different, a descendant of the Matres and heiress to their powers of enchantment. As soon as my learning of the ancient ways, according to the tomes of Banu, was complete I was herded through the deep, dark tunnels of the dead on a journey that eventually took me across water to my birthland. There I was left on a spit of sand with nothing but the clothes on my back.
The tide was rising on the back of a storm. A howling wind shrieked across the spit like a banshee, tearing at my mantle, whipping long, wet strands of hair across my eyes with the cruelty of a lash. Fresh blood tainted the ecru sand as, on sore, lacerated hands, I struggled to crawl away from the crashing waves that would suck me out to sea, numbing my mind to the gritty shingle that scratched and bit, like a colony of fire ants, into my raw knees. I knew I had to hide, but in my struggle to survive my last thoughts invited death, as I passed out on the sand.
Looking up, my eyes settled on the kindly face of a man. I leapt to my feet and with hands outstretched I called on the powers of Immictum Nocteas to protect me, but as a topaz hued copper current ran from my fingertips towards him, he raised his own hand. Immediately the current ceased and I felt my body hurtling back against a rocky wall where I fell in a crumpled heap on the sandy floor.
“Tanguistl, it pains me to see your distress.” The man nodded his head gently, his facial wrinkles deep and pronounced as if it was he who was actually suffering.
“I was foretold of your arrival; the Gods did not abandon you Tanguistl. They have provided for you and sent you here. You are an Ovate.” The man paused and raised his eyebrows.
“I see by your look of surprise that this has not been told to you.”
“An Ovate? A Druid? But it was the druids that killed my mother.”
“That is true, but she gave herself to keep you alive. You are a healer, a diviner, a prophet.”
I was bewildered by the revelations of this man; whose powers were obviously much greater than my own.
“Come Tanguistl, your home awaits.”
And with those words he stood and led me to the entrance of what I now recognized as a sea-cave and guided me away from the waters that flowed to the horizon, sparkling like shattered glass.
Check out – Part 2-My Emergence – on January 29/19
© Carolyn Griffin
