Opus 0, No. 1
(First episode of "An Ancient Story")
Marah means bitter in Hebrew. It’s well-known from the Bible story of Ruth. Ruth’s mother-in-law was named Naomi and Naomi had two sons. Over the years, both the husband and the sons died from a cause unknown to the common man. And so, Naomi cried out, “Do not call me Naomi; call me Mara, for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me. I went away full, and the LORD has brought me back empty...”
And yes, they were very bitter times. Both in the times of Ruth, and in the decades of strife and sorrow over a century ago. It was a time when a man could not live in his house without wondering what stranger may wander into it, demanding sustenance and comfort. He could not walk forth from his house without sharing the path with another that may secretly be looking to destroy him. He and his family could not wander through the streets of a town without being looked down upon by the invaders of their country.
It was before this time came about, some five score years ago, that the king's High guardsman, Kirkby Aylward had a daughter. And if you're a quick one with a bright eye, you'll already have concluded her name to be Marah. She was called thus because the name was pleasant to her parents. Yet, the name could have been a foreshadowing of the times in front of her country and kinsmen.
Marah was not a strong babe and did not gain fat around her waist quickly, but indeed, she was very steady. A steady eater, steady sleeper, and a steady learner. The pious midwife predicted it to be a sign that “the lil’ chilld’ll be a persistent one. Dependable and wi’ a quick mind at that, I tell ye.” Well, reader, I’m not sure the girl-child would’ve cared much to be any of these predictions if she had understood them. Perhaps, instead, she wished to be an irresolute, dull recreant. Who can say? Nevertheless, predictions or not, Marah was content simply to perform the actions expected from every babe: to eat, sleep, and relax.
But things were not so satisfactory outside the nursery. One baby in a great monarchy was hardly worth considering (unless, of course, it was the monarch’s baby). Great magnificent things were being carried forth outside the nursery. Kings and countries and Regents were setting the stage for this small girl. Marah’s king, his lordship Aodhfin, was given the task of defending the small kingdom of Innisfawn against a resolute enemy: the infamous Regent of Strichtlachter (or of “Stricht,” as the common people call it). This man had a severe and tenacious grudge against our lordship from years ago. Because of this burning grudge, small offenses became magnified atrocities — such as the event during the year of the fish. This was the first incident in which the Regent openly showed his hatred towards Aodhfin in his diplomacy. The offenses were the following: His lordship Aodhfin had outrageously allowed his people to cross the wide water border of Delore between Strichtlachter and Innisfawn. If that wasn’t preposterous enough, Aodhfin had had the impudence to let them harvest the Regent’s fish! This was intolerable and the Regent demanded the fish back. Of course, Aodhfin knew that the Stricht’s Regent was merely desiring an excuse to land war upon the lovely Innisfawn. With this understanding and insight, he ordered an equal amount of fresh Innisfawn fish to be sent back, with an additional fifty pounds as a gift.
Unacceptable! Cried the Regent. He demanded his own fish, not that of lowly peasants. Without further insult, the order was given to have the Innisfawn fish dumped into the sea.
Aodhfin received this message with tempered frustration. It was a grave insult to dispose publicly of a well-meaning gift and, on top of that, to insult the givers of the gift. Marah’s father remembered the king tearing up the message and casting the tiny shreds into the air. A sigh left him as he sat back with the creases of thought upon his brow. Aylward knew that the king would send a message to the Regent that there were no fish left to give — the fishermen had eaten them to survive on their trip back to land. The message would be sent. That much was obvious. So, he wondered, what was his king pondering over? Was he meditating on the future troubles the Regent would bring forth? Was he pondering over what he would do after the Regent’s response? Or was he simply still maddened and trying to curb his anger? Aylward used to think back to these moments and of what the king saw when he sat there staring at the wall facing him across the throne room.
Whatever the reason, the king did send out a messenger to the Regent. He relayed his apologies, but the masses of fish were eaten and digested by this time.
The Regent would have none of it! If there were no fish left, then the thieves who stole the riches must be executed at once or turned over to Strichtlachter.
Oh, you should've seen our lovely Innisfawn. The people were doubly outraged: First for the insult to their land and honor by the dumping of the fish and second because of the request. To turn their own men over to death because of some fish belonging to a foul man? Were fish greater than 21 stout Innisfawn fishermen? The Innisfawn paraded through their local streets to answer this. No! they said.
This was a fine climax to overcome for Aodhfin. The 21 fishermen were charged with theft by the Stricht Regent, a powerful enemy with large lands. But the people wished to defend them, as did Aodhfin. Well, there was still one peaceful option open. 1,500 pieces of gold were sent to the Regent as compensation, enough for the Regent to buy ten times the 300 pounds of fish eaten. It worked. The Regent was satisfied for the time being, and the people only called their king a coward before settling their temperament back to normal.
But such minor incidents such as these came one after another. The hate in the Regent would not be held back by barriers as small as bribery. Something must come of it all.
I'd like to explain this story briefly, but I put this at the end so that you can choose whether or not you want to read it. Marah has always been a close character to my heart. She's always been there inside me forming. Not that she is me, but that she's a part of me. Just as Zizi is. I can create stories through both of them and they'll still be unique from one another.
Now, I've taken up the challenge to write one story per week this year. I'm three stories behind, but believe me, I'll catch up.
Not every story will be about Zizi and Marah. Nor will every story be good. So, I trust you'll be open with your comments. In other words: if there's something you would tweak about the story, say so. I don't mind. Or don't. I don't mind that either.
Pax Vobiscum.
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