Violet
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Violet Eyes
By Bronwen Welsh
Prologue
My name is Sybil. I have a doctorate in philosophy and I am a reader in
archaeology at a certain British university which I prefer not to
identify. There is a reason for this of course. Like most transgendered
people I prefer a low profile since certain people can never take you
seriously once they know, or worse, they assume that you are in some way
mentally fragile. I admire people like the author Jan Morris, or the
brilliant computer scientist Dr Lyn Conway - and yes she is real -
'Google' her if you like; who prove that transgender and brains can go
together. What's more they are not afraid to 'come out', but some of us
are not so brave.
Many people are unaware as they walk through the halls of the great
museums that beneath their feet, buried in the bowels of the building are
vast store rooms crammed with artifacts which are too numerous to display
or which do not excite the interest of the casual observer. I have spent
most of my life engaged in the translation of ancient texts. It's not so
'sexy' as discovering an ancient tomb or gold artifacts, but it does add
to the store of human knowledge. So it is there you will likely find me,
pouring over yet another set of clay tablets inscribed with the curious
markings of an ancient half-forgotten language. It was just such a series
of tablets which provided the story which I am about to relate. They were
found in the ruins of an ancient temple in Asia Minor, roughly modern-day
Turkey, sealed in a vault where they had lain undisturbed for over three
millennia. It was when I first started to sort through them and make a
tentative translation that I realized I had an affinity with the writer
from those far-off times. What follows are not the writer's original
words of course, but a translation, as accurate as I can make it, and
which I hope is true to the spirit locked in those curious symbols incised
in clay so very long ago.
'My name is Cilicia and in this my sixtieth summer I write of my life
which must soon come to a close. I chose to sit in the portico of the
temple where I have lived so long, warming myself in the rays of the sun.
A short while ago, a mother with her young daughter came up the steps of
the temple. The little girl had a bouquet of flowers as an offering and
probably mistaking me for The Goddess, handed them to me with solemn eyes.
He mother looked alarmed as she hurried towards me, but I reassured her
that the flowers would indeed be carried to lie before The Goddess in her
inner sanctum where only the priestesses may go, and I watched mother and
daughter depart with happy smiling faces.
When you in the future read this, will your world be so different that
mine will be hard to understand? Is it possible that the ramblings of an
old woman, even though she be the High Priestess of The Goddess will be
dismissed as of no account? Will I achieve sufficient reincarnations to
live in your world and see it for myself? But I digress.
I will begin my story when I was a youth of seventeen summers. Yes, I was
a youth, tall and fair, with a slim body which was not unpleasant to
observe, or so I was told. Many people commented upon my violet eyes and
told me how striking they were, hoping to make me blush. Young girls
fluttered their eye lashes at me, but I was not to be tempted by them nor
yet by young men. Instead I worked hard with my father in his baker's
shop, cooking the sweet breads and cakes for which he was famous.
In the Spring there was a great feast to The Goddess, and all the
townsfolk came to offer gifts at her temple, imploring her to smile upon
us and give us sun and rain for a good harvest, and I went there with many
others, bearing the finest breads from our ovens. The priestesses came
out of the temple to receive our gifts and there was dancing and drumming,
feasting and singing all day long.
Then the priestesses came down amongst us young men who were gathered
together, and they walked amongst us looking at each youth. They selected
ten of us, picking only the tallest and slimmest, and I was amongst them.
They bade us walk with them into the temple and we followed them up the
marble steps as the people of the town stood silently. In the gloom of
the great hall we saw an ornate chair on a dais at one end and on it sat
the High Priestess. One by one she summoned us to come before her and we
did so, each trying to conceal our fear, for we had never been allowed
this close to The Goddess before. She questioned us for a long time and
two of the youths were rejected because they had lain with a woman and two
because they had lain with men, so now we were but six. Then the
priestesses brought us more wine and the drummers who sat around the walls
of the great hall began their drumming. The beat of the drums throbbed
through our bodies and we were ordered to cast off our tunics and then we
danced naked before the High Priestess. The heavy curtains at the end of
the hall were drawn back, and there was the statue of The Goddess, a life-
size woman, naked and covered in gold which glinted in the light of the
lamps. We were served wine with herbs and the drumming became ever more
fast and furious as we danced in worship to The Goddess. Faster and
faster we spun around in a frenzy of worship. Then the priestesses
returned with silver plates, one for each of us, and on each plate was a
sharp knife. Grasping the knife in an ecstasy of adoration I grasped my
manhood and with one stroke severed my testes as an offering to The
Goddess and placed them with the knife back on the silver plate which was
born forth to lie as an offering before The Goddess.
Do you doubt me, you that read this far in the future? Be that as it may,
it is all true. Five of us made the sacrifice and one fled, and we stood
there with our blood pouring on the marble floor as an offering to The
Goddess. Strangely at that moment I felt no pain, just an over-whelming
feeling of love for Her for whom I had made my sacrifice. Then I felt the
hall swirling around me even though I stood still, and I plunged into
darkness.
When I awoke it was to daylight streaming through the windows of a strange
room. I was lying on a couch, and I felt my body was tightly bandaged,
and yes, then I did feel pain. Priestesses came to us and offered us wine
mixed with herbs and after a while the pain became dulled. I looked
around me and the others were there too, each of us lying naked and
bandaged. The High Priestess appeared later that day and we all tried to
sit up out of respect, but we were too sore and stiff. She welcomed us
and told us that now we had made the sacrifice of our manhood, we were
welcomed into the sisterhood of the priestesses to worship The Goddess for
ever. We were to forget our old names and receive a new one, and mine was
Cilicia. What was my name before? It is too long ago. I cannot
remember.
We lay there for several days until we felt strong enough to arise and
take a few tentative steps. The priestesses came bearing our new clothes,
a silken shift worn under a colorful robe of rich cloth and slippers for
our feet. They dressed our hair into a woman's style and wove flowers
into it. It was at some stage of this dressing that I realised that the
priestesses were once as we were now, youths who had sacrificed their
manhood for The Goddess. Now we were to spend our lives in the service
and worship of Her. This was to be our reward.
We spent our days studying the rituals and learning to serve The Goddess.
Townsfolk came bearing offerings of food for us, and we in turn repaid
them with our chants and offerings to The Goddess to assure the town of a
good harvest. As the months passed by we found that our sacrifice had led
to a change in our bodies, which became less muscular but softer and more
subtle. We developed small breasts as The Goddess changed us into
beings more suitable for Her worship.
When the sun started to sink lower in the sky and the fields turned golden
for the harvest, then was the time of the great feast of Gathering the
Seed. The High Priestess summoned us the younger priestesses and
instructed us in the important role that we must play in the rituals which
were to give thanks for the harvest. The great day of the Festival
arrived and all the townsfolk came to the temple, bearing sheaves of corn
and barrels of wine, young animals and all the fruits of their labors.
The older priestesses sang and danced before the crowds, but we the
younger ones did not appear but prepared ourselves. First we went into
the inner courtyard of the temple where stood a column of stone about the
height of two men, worn smooth by time and the touch of many hands. We
cast off our robes and joining hands danced naked around the stone
phallus. Then we immersed ourselves in a rock pool next to the column,
which was filled with water from the sacred spring, and thus we purified
ourselves for the rituals to come. Then we dressed ourselves and waited
in the great hall of the temple.
Meanwhile the older priestesses examined the fruits of the farmers'
labors. Those with the best produce or cattle knew they would take part
in the rituals to honor The Goddess and competition was fierce for this
honor. Eventually their selection was made and five farmers were summoned
to walk up the marble steps to the temple. There they were led into the
great hall where we awaited them. We were dressed for the occasion in the
finest linen gowns, so fine that our bodies were barely concealed by them.
Our hair was dressed with flowers and leaves woven into a coronet, our
lips dyed a deep shade of red, and our bodies perfumed. Each man could
choose the priestess with whom he would share the great feast, and I gazed
at the man who approached me with great interest. He was young and slim
but I could see his muscular body through the white tunic that he wore,
and how his skin was burnt to a deep brown by his many hours working in
the fields. His hair was dark brown, short and curly and his eyes a deep
blue. He was so handsome that although I concealed my feelings with a
welcoming smile, I felt my body quiver with anticipation. He sat beside
me on the couch, and wine, figs and honey were brought to us. We toasted
each other and listened to the older priestesses sing songs of praise to
The Goddess, and I felt the warmth of his body against mine, and his hands
gently tracing the curves of my body, and I did not move away for this was
all part of the ritual. Instead I smiled at him encouragingly and his
hands strayed further.
Then I rose and took him by the hand and led him into my chamber. Once
there we began to kiss and with my body pressed against his I felt his
arousal and was glad. His strong hands were around me, pulling me to him
and I did not resist. I lifted the tunic over his head and he stood naked
and aroused before me like a veritable stallion. Now I sank to my knees
for this was the worship of the phallus, the next part of the ritual. This
was the first time I had tasted a man, and I heard him groan with pleasure
as I took him between my red lips. I worked on him with my lips and
tongue and he was like a stallion indeed with the size of his member and
his eagerness to give me what I desired. I cajoled and encouraged him
with my tongue and lips, and stroked him with my fingers until with a loud
groan he exploded in my mouth and stood there panting with his eyes shut
in ecstasy. Discretely I deposited his seed into a small silver vessel,
for this was to be an offering for The Goddess, the 'Gathering of the
Seed'. Then I took my young farmer to lie on my couch and I lay beside
him as he recovered his breath and his strength. The ritual continued as
I fondled him once more, stimulating him into eager erection, and now he
was to play the part of a stallion once more, and I a mare, for I stood
and bend over the couch and he behind me lifted my robes and grasping my
thighs thrust forward and I felt a sharp pain and gasped as he entered me.
I felt his excited thrusting and my body respond in kind, seeking to feel
him fill me and in a short time, I felt his shuddering climax and his hot
seed burst forth once more. What I did not expect was that I too felt my
body shake in an intensity of pleasure such as I had never before known,
so great that it was almost painful, but a pain which it was a joy to
embrace. For a long moment we stood there, locked in close embrace, his
hot strong hands around my body, as we gasped for breath and our hearts
pounded. Then reluctantly we parted. Now I served him another cup of
wine, this with special herbs of a narcotic kind and this time when he lay
down on my couch, he slept deeply.
I took the silver vessel with his seed and made my way to the inner
sanctum of The Goddess where the High Priestess waited to receive it along
with the others and offer it up to Her for Her blessing upon the town. I
made my way to another room in the temple. I was a little sore, but the
feelings during my encounter with the young farmer would not leave me and
lying down on a couch it was some time before I fell asleep. In the
morning the older priestesses awoke the farmers and charged them that
whatever they remembered of the previous night was not to be divulged to
any living creature for it was sacred to The Goddess and Her wrath would
descend upon any who spoke of it. Then they were given bread and wine and
sent on their way.
Time passed with the coming and going of the seasons and ten times more I
took part in the Gathering of the Seed but apart from those times, neither
I nor the other priestesses knew man. Eventually our places were taken by
younger priestesses as we in turn replaced those who had gone to The
Goddess. Years passed and we all grew older and then one day a priestess
went to awaken the High Priestess and discovered that during the night she
had gone to The Goddess. A great ritual was held for we were filled with
joy that she had gone to claim her reward, even though for us there was a
tinge of sadness that we would see her no more. Now a great council was
held to elect her successor and votes were cast by all present. To my
shock and surprise, it was I who was chosen, and the younger priestesses
solemnly clad me in the robes of the High Priestess and led me to the
golden chair that sat on the dais.
It was now my turn to preside at the solemn rituals and to chose the new
priestesses and to ensure that the life of the temple carried on in
harmony. Thus the years passed, and The Goddess smiled upon us and the
harvests were plentiful. And the years passed and I grew older. One
night I had a dream of The Goddess, and in my dream it seemed to me that I
awakened and saw Her standing at the foot of my couch. She smiled at me
and spoke my name.
"Cilicia, you have served me well, and the time is approaching when I will
stretch out my hand and take you to me."
I smiled with joy at the thought but She was not yet finished.
"I have a task for you. Change is coming to the world and a time will
come when men and women no longer know my name."
I opened my mouth to protest that it could not be so, but she held up a
hand to still my voice, and I was silent and obedient to Her.
"I charge you to write your story on clay tablets and conceal them where I
direct you, so that in times to come, men may again know of Me and all
that was done here in my name."
And in the dream it seemed I followed her deep into the temple and she
showed me a recess in the wall of the inner sanctum that I had not seen
before and told me to place the tablets there and seal up the entrance.
When all this was done, She would come again to me and take my hand. Then
it seemed to me that her face became brighter and brighter until I was
dazzled and forced to bow my head and shut my eyes as I dare not look at
her glory.
Then I awoke and it was daylight and I remembered everything which had
been revealed to me, and I called for clay tablets and began to write my
story as The Goddess directed me. Now it is done as she decreed and I
will wait for Her to come to me.'
__________________
This was the conclusion of Cilicia's story as told by her and which I
translated, but there is a postscript. There were other clay tablets
stored in the temple which were written by another hand. I had translated
them earlier and they had made little sense to me, but now they did. They
read as follows:
'I am Seleca, now High Priestess of the temple of The Goddess in place of
Cilicia who has joined Her whom we serve. Cilicia was sitting in the sun
in the portico of the temple one day as I busied myself inside when I
heard a loud cry and a crash of something breaking. I hurried outside and
saw a young woman carrying a baby and at her feet a broken vessel and oil
spilling down the temple steps. She stood before Cilicia and looking, I
saw my old friend sitting quite still, a smile upon her face and knew that
she had gone to The Goddess. I took the young woman inside the temple and
calmed her and gave her water to refresh her. She had come to present her
baby, a girl child to The Goddess and now she was calm I led her to the
great hall to make her presentation. As she lifted up the child before
the statue of The Goddess, so the baby opened its eyes and looked at me
with those violet eyes that I knew so well. My heart missed a beat for
then I knew, and in my heart I praised The Goddess.'
____________________
I sat for a long time in deep thought after I completed my translation of
all the clay tablets. For as long as I can trace my ancestors, the first
female child has always been called Sybil and it was for that reason that
I adopted the name. I stood and walked slowly to a mirror and gazed into
it, and violet eyes looked back at me. In the tablets written by Cilicia
and Seleca, they never refer to The Goddess by name, presumably out of
respect, but I know the name of the goddess to which they refer. Her name
was Cybele.
Author's note: The above is a work of fiction but certain historical
facts are woven into the tale. The worship of Cybele in Asia Minor did
indeed involve self castration by her male devotees who thereafter dressed
as women and worshipped her. Fertility rites involving sexual intercourse
were also connected to certain deities in the ancient world. The worship
of the phallus lives on to this day in a ritualized form in maypole
dances.
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