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The Lily and the Bull

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Ierii, the daughter of the chief gardener at the palace, is in love with Thyloss, the son of the keeper of the Queen’s bulls. Thyloss, who yearns to be a bull acrobat, a position of great importance and renown, finds his feelings for Ierii gradually changing. But their hopes are shaken by events beyond their control.The Lily and the Bull is an exciting fantasy set during the dramatic events of the last days of Ma-ii, a Minoan city on the northern coast of Crete.

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Chapter 1-1
Chapter 1 Encounter on the MountainIerii had climbed much higher than she had intended, and clouds were lowering fast over the mountains, the peaks of solid rock disappearing into the whiteness, suggesting mysterious heights beyond their known limits. She had been watching her sandaled feet on the rocks, continually sidestepping to avoid the sharp thorns of the bushes, when she suddenly noticed that the sun no longer warmed her skin and that she was cocooned in heavy mist. Her vision now could reach no further than her outstretched hand. At first she was not worried, even though she had heard tales of people falling to their death in the mountains when the sky was hostile. She turned to descend, confident that she could find the way. She moved swiftly, sure that the quickly falling mist could not have hidden much of the path between herself and her home. But she was wrong. The more she moved, the more completely she seemed to be enveloped. She came to the sharp edge of a rock and found that it dropped away abruptly below her. A small stone that her foot dislodged slipped over the edge and was a long time falling. She paused. For the first time the cold of the mist seemed to be inside her. She did not remember this rock, this cliff. She shivered, feeling very much alone. Surely she could not be far from familiar ground? She tried to walk to the left, but the rocks were impassable. To the right she found a narrow passage, and carefully picked her way, trying fearfully every moment for safer footing. By the time she found it she was a long way from where she thought she should have been. She remembered advice others had given: take no step upon the mountain if you cannot see. But if she did not move she might be there into the night. It had become very cold, and her thin clothes were already damp. She cursed herself for being such a fool, setting off so impulsively without checking signs. The mountain always gave signs. The wind spoke. The birds could tell what weather was coming long before it came. She had wanted to be alone, but not like this. There were times when she could not stay in the town: times when she felt as though the thin veil that kept her separate as Ierii from the rest of the world no longer protected her, and all the loves, the hates, the pain, the anxieties of others were crowding in on her. At such times she would flee to the mountains, and in the quiet among the ancient rocks she would find herself again. But now she thought with nostalgia of the busy town on the plain far below her, between the mountains and the sea, and of Thyloss, whom she loved, but who she felt did not yet love her. She stood still, the cold filaments of cloud touching her skin. But even as she neared despair, in the swirling whiteness that flowed everywhere about her, she felt the sudden haunting warmth of another’s presence. She could see no one. She called. ‘Who is there?’ She listened, but there was no answer. Perhaps the mist had muffled the sound of her voice. Her throat ached with tears she fought to keep from rising. Then something moved above her, to the right. Anxiously, she strained to see through the mist. Suddenly it seemed to part and, as clearly as if it were a sunny day, she saw a woman of great beauty standing on a rock, shining from the mist like a white lily from the shade of leaves. She was taller than most women, her hair white as the moon, and her eyes dark and unfathomable. Ierii gasped, her hands at her mouth. ‘It is the Lady herself!’ she whispered. ‘the Mother of the Earth!’ She was filled with awe, her heart beating so loudly and rapidly that she could feel it in her throat. The woman beckoned, and Ierii moved without hesitation towards her. She found that she no longer stumbled over the stones, nor did the rough little thorn bushes tear at her legs. She reached out to the woman she had never seen before, trustingly, as child to mother, but the mountain cloud swirled closer and the figure disappeared. Ierii paused a moment, but the fear she had known before did not return. She moved forward with confidence, finding the ground beneath her feet level and secure. When she reached the rock on which she had seen the woman standing, she found no one there, but when she looked down to the ground to see if there were any footprints to show that she had not imagined the presence of the Lady, she found the path that she had been seeking. She wept freely, with relief and joy, and hurried down the mountain, her mind racing with the strange story that she would have to tell Thyloss and her father. Would they believe that she had seen the Mother of the Earth, she, Ierii, fifteen summers old, not yet fledged to leave the nest and fly into the high realms of the Mysteries? * * * * The town, Ma-ii, in which Ierii lived, and the palace it served, were built on a plain on the north coast of the island, a plain that now lay in bright sunlight although the mountains were in mist, the sea heaving quietly beside it, intensely blue. At about the time Ierii started her descent from the mountain on the correct path, Thyloss, the son of Miron, was busy with other acrobats on the practice ground training on wooden blocks and bars for the complex leaps, somersaults and manoeuvres they would need when they faced the live bulls on the Field of Challenge. The young prince of Ma-ii, the only son of its formidable queen, was dead. The embalmers were busy in the palace; the acrobats preparing for the elaborate and dangerous funeral games. Miron, Keeper of the Queen’s Bulls, not knowing of the prince’s death, had gone from town with several hunters on a routine search for wild bulls for the palace ceremonies, leaving his son Thyloss in charge of the bull enclosures and the men who tended them. It was to Thyloss therefore that the messenger came when there was trouble between two of the bulls. Thyloss had not been pleased to be left to attend to his father’s responsibilities and he uttered an exclamation of impatience when he was called in the middle of his practice. He was about to make an excuse for not going, when he noticed how breathless the youth who had brought the message was and how white-faced he looked. There was no avoiding it, he would have to go. The narrow stone-flagged streets were quiet, and for the most part coolly shadowed by the houses. It was only when they came to open spaces at crossroads or in the market square that the white blaze of the sun hit the walls and ricocheted into their eyes. Thyloss was hot from his exertions on the training field and felt the sea breeze as it whistled down some of the streets cold and prickly on his skin. ‘Hurry,’ the youth cried anxiously, as Thyloss stopped for a moment at the corner of the Street of the Red Octopus and the Street of the Dolphin, to greet Ierii’s father carrying an earthenware pot filled with shining red flowers and trailing vine-like leaves. ‘Have you seen Ierii?’ the man asked after the formal words of greeting, and Thyloss thought he detected a slight worried look in his eyes. He was surprised, for Dorran was noted for the calm, unhurried peacefulness of his nature, the gentle way he took all that life had to fling at him. In times past he had suffered much, but lately he and his daughter had lived together in great contentment, each day following the next, apparently in untroubled serenity. ‘No, I have not. Should I?’ ‘I feel uneasy,’ Dorran said. ‘She went to the mountains and the mist is down. I thought she might have returned early and been with you. She has more sense than to stay in the mountains when the mist...’ The messenger tugged Thyloss’s sleeve. ‘My lord...’ he whispered anxiously. ‘You will probably find her at home mixing her pigments for her wall paintings or wandering on the beach talking to the sea...’ Thyloss said cheerfully to Dorran. There were a hundred places Ierii could be. She was one of those rare, quiet, private people who wandered abroad in the world freely and yet never seemed to touch it at all... almost as though, wherever she was, she was only partly there, the rest, the essential part, was in an unreachable world of her own. ‘I must go,’ the young man said in answer to another tug from the messenger and was already walking away as he called back over his shoulder: ‘She will be all right. Do not worry.’ After this Thyloss and the messenger ran all the way to the bull enclosures, stopping for no one, though there were many who would have liked to pass the time of day with the handsome young athlete. They found the area around the black bull’s enclosure in an uproar. The air was thick with dust and the sound of hooves thudding and thundering, animals snorting and roaring. This combined with the shouting of the men to make a noisy, wild and confusing scene. As soon as he appeared an old man rushed forward to meet him. It was Ayan, who, though officially retired as bull trainer and no longer permitted to handle the bulls or teach the acrobats, could not be persuaded to abandon the life he had enjoyed so much. Thyloss could see at once that he was the one most likely to give him a sensible explanation. ‘What is it, Ayan?’ he asked. ‘The Black Thunderer and Grey Wind are at battle, my lord,’ the old man said. ‘Some fool boy left the gate open. Grey Wind got into the enclosure with the Black Thunderer and...’ Thyloss waited to hear no more. He leapt up onto the wall and looked down into the dusty pen where the two giant bulls were lunging at each other. The most valuable bull of all, the Black Thunderer, the one chosen by Queen Nya-an for the funeral of her son, was covered with blood and dust and frothing sweat. The earth shook as the two beasts pulled apart, turned, and charged at each other again and again. Thyloss felt himself choking on the red dust. Dimly he was aware of a group of children sitting in a row on the wall gleefully yelling encouragement to one bull or the other. They were not worried. It was a grand spectacle for them, and they cared nothing for the adult world of ritual and ceremony. Several terrified youths were darting about the enclosure with long pronged rods trying to prize the two apart, or at least to distract them. The high-pitched warbling whistles that were customarily used to guide the bulls added to the noisy turbulence but had no effect on the enraged contestants. Thyloss could see that Grey Wind’s eyes were red as he turned for another attack. He was not as fine a bull as the Black Thunderer, his coat was not so silky nor his horns so white, but his powerful build was reminiscent of the rocky strength of the southern mountains from whence he came, and he was not going to give in. The earth shook as the two charged and locked in battle yet again. No wonder the Bull was believed to represent the destructive power of the earthquake, as well as the procreative power of Life. When Seers on the Island foresaw the danger of an earthquake, a bull, no matter how valuable, was sacrificed with elaborate ritual, the deathblow delivered with the deadly double axe, to placate the restless forces of the earth. It was only at funerals that the acrobats could show their skills and dance with the beast to show man’s defiance of death, and his desire for new life. As Thyloss stood on the wall of the enclosure, the small children turned their attention from the fighting bulls to him. He raised his voice in a high, long, and penetrating call, and his throat and mouth shaped a sound that belonged to the wild places of the earth. He called again and again, the animal sound of his voice rising with each call and the final note so strange, so high and so rasping, that the other humans covered their ears and shuddered. The bulls paused in mid-charge and turned towards him with wide and staring eyes.

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