B. James Wilson's Blog, page 3

May 2022

This month has been a challenge. May began as April ended, with family visiting for a graduation ceremony at SEU in Lakeland. Also, we had a pleasant visit from my sister and her husband. Following that, my sister-in-law graciously took Mom with her to the mountains of NC, then, things fell quiet.

I got back to work on The Practician manuscript working through chapter 24, but in chapters 25 and 26, I had to make major revisions, reordering the chapters, lowering the word count, and bringing the manuscript to version 7.1.2. Chapters 28 and 29 went smoothly, but when I reached chapter 31 I discovered a gross redundancy in the detective character, Heath Greyson, who was introduced in chapter 21. As a result, I have undertaken a massive revision of that chapter which will also be required in chapter 31. Although the manuscript moved up to version 7.1.3, I feel like I’m going backward.

I discovered this flaw as we were on the verge of traveling to my granddaughter’s high school graduation in Sugar Hill, Ga., then on to NC to bring Mom home from the hills. Since today is Memorial Day weekend, I suppose the revisions will continue into June. Also continuing into June will be my struggle with branding and the use of social media, especially Goodreads, to promote myself and my work. I’m convinced that those who tout the use of social media as a way to success in the literary field if they have themselves been successful, have been so for other reasons. But that’s a matter to be proven. For now, I feel compelled to follow instructions and learn for myself.

Hugh Howey had great success through Amazon’s KDP Select program. I’m reading his novel, “Shift” to get a feel for his talent as a writer. It’s not my genre of preference, but it helps me to study his model. I hope to learn something that will help propel me into the market with my own best-seller. I also finished reading Thomas Wolfe’s “You Can Never Go Home Again”. It has been a long and arduous read, if also a literary masterpiece. Also, I am close to finishing my reading of C.S. Lewis’s “Out of The Silent Planet”, which has itself been somewhat arduous.

On our trip north, we listened to Nicholas Meyer’s “The Adventures of The Peculiar Protocols” as narrated by David Robb. This is an excellent piece of work both from a literary standpoint and an audiobook achievement. We are now finishing up our listen of “The Return of The Pharaoh” also by Nicholas Meyer and narrated by David Robb. If you are a fan of Sherlock Holmes, I highly recommend Nicholas Meyer. He has brought the detective back to life in stories and a style that exceeds Conan Doyle’s own interpretation of the character he developed. I have become a fan, and if ever I have a book of my own published in audio format, I want David Robb to narrate.

Finally, as I look around at the tragic madness of a depraved world, I am reading “Spiritual Warfare: Deliverance Ministry Basic Training” by I.R. Womack. Surely the problem is demonic in nature. Surely the church has an obligation to intercede. 

Weekly Update- May 14th

Weekly Update:

This week has been about the pathway of our pilgrimage, our abundant adoption, our affliction and endurance, and the fact that we, as a nation, are adrift in a stormy sea.

Through my research, I am following a new rabbit trail concerning sonic energy, sound, vibration, and frequency. The science is known as Cymatics and the potential is enormous. Through the scripture in Zephaniah 3:17, I am incorporating this research into my Gray Empire novel series. I began that incorporation in book one, The Practician, this week. I think this new plot element will add significant interest and suspense to the overall story. In the process of introducing it, I ran into a snag in chapters 25 and 26 where Rick experiences two visions in a row on the same day while investigating Castle St. Clair and the Rosslyn cemetery. I decided that was too much so I made some major revisions to the story and created v7.1.2. At the end of the week I have completed the final draft through chapter 28. Things are moving forward smoothly.

Among my recent Curiosities are Cymatics and its possible uses:

Cymatics Healing: The Healing Resonance of Sacred Spaces (subtle.energy)

My favorite quote from the week is:

“Work is worship. Work is meditation. Serve all without any idea of agency or expectation of fruits or reward. You will come to realize that Godly service to humanity is service to God.”

“And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him. And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men,”

Anonymous, & Colossians 3:17, 23

In life, Nancy and I took a drive through the Cape Canaveral National Seashore this week. We also visited the Manatees at Haulover Canal. It was terribly windy that day with gusts reaching gale force. There were lots of manatees, but little other wildlife on our tour.

On another day we took a tour of South Tropical Trail on Merritt Island following a delicious lunch with Joyce and Kaye, two of my wonderful Beta Readers. Unfortunately, that evening at home, I was afflicted with food poisoning from some iced tea which I suppose had been kept too long unrefrigerated. I spent a couple of hours in nausea and severe abdominal pain before heading to bed feeling sick, weak and drained. Even so, the week has ended well. I’m feeling much better and back up to speed today. I will be working hard in the coming week to make as much progress as I can in this final draft of The Practician. See you next week. In the meantime, please follow me on Goodreads, and on Facebook.

Update – April 2022

The Oubliette

April has been a busy month for me in many ways. I finished the final revision of my novel, The Oubliette. I’m in kind of a slump. You know, that lost feeling you get when you’ve finished a long-term project? Now, with the writing finished and the editing process complete, I’m faced with my least favorite part of the independent writer’s life, switching hats to become a publisher. It means bearing the burdens of that complicated process, including formatting the book for the digital and print markets, cover design, marketing, distribution, and on and on. I just want to get back to work on the next novel. Therefore, I envy those who snag publishing contracts or have the money to pay someone to do these things. I’m sure I could find a publisher, eventually, though, considering the current market conditions, it might take decades – …I don’t have that kind of time. So many books to be written, so little time to do it. Please, just let me get back to work.

The Bloodline Heresy

On another note – I watched an interesting documentary on the Holy Grail this month. From it, I learned a few things about the original Grail Mythology. I speak of, Wolfram von Eschenbach’s “Perzival”, and the Celtic/Druid influence on that story, (interesting). But the most interesting thing was discovering the inspiration for the bloodline heresy that is found in so many contemporary grail mythologies, at least those written since the book “Holy Blood, Holy Grail” was published in 1982.

It turns out that the book’s authors’ finally admitted that their fabrication was based entirely on speculation that, at some time in the past, an unknown scribe must have misunderstood the words “Sang Real”, (meaning Royal Blood), and wrote instead, “San Greal”, or “Grail”, (meaning Holy Vessel). In truth, the author, Michael Baigent, has no proof that this ever happened. His mistake theory is pure speculation based solely on the similarity of the Latin words.

There is a dark abyss between the premise behind the words “Sang Real”, and that of “San Grail”. They are as far divided as the east is from the west in both meaning and intent. That is the crux of contention between me, Dan Brown, Steve Berry, and the many other writers in the genre who insist on perpetuating this bloodline heresy as an attack on the foundations of Christianity. In my mind, someone of faith must respond to this heresy in apologia. Lord, please let it be me.

Enter The Practician

All that said, I’ve begun the final draft of The Practician, my faith-based response. In fact, we had the beta-readers debrief early this month. It was my first ever encounter group and by God’s grace and with much human help, it went very well. I got a lot of valuable feedback on the manuscript, and I’ve started implementing revisions, part of which will be some changes to the central cipher that the plot revolves around. In the earlier manuscripts, I had no continuing object of mystery that could sustain the plot through the entire Gray Empire series, a planned quartet.

My initial cipher for the story, mysterious writings found on an artifact called the ninety-foot stone, is resolved too early in the story. Another artifact called the Leitch Bible, introduced in book one, falls out of the story once it’s had its effect on the protagonists. The predominant artifact, the Ark of St. John, turns out to be more a character in the story than a puzzle to be solved. The larger story of the Gray Empire needs a cipher, a puzzle that the protagonists must solve in order to overcome the evil plans of the antagonists. So, after much research, I have chosen an awesome cipher that will be founded on the Rosslyn Chapel Stave Angel.

The Consciousness of Water

Rosslyn Chapel #1

My recent research into cymatics, (the shape of sounds), has put me on a rabbit trail that goes deep into an area of ancient esoteric knowledge once held by the Order of St. John, and then by the Templars. This rabbit trail goes much deeper, however, into the connections between Cymatic Patterns, Ley Lines, String Theory, and Biblical Scripture.

According to the Apostle John, everything that has been created was created by the Word, that is to say, that God Himself Spoke, and what he spoke became reality. In Matthew 4:4 Jesus says, “…man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.” His words imply that God sustains all life and the universe by his continued spoken Word. That idea is reinforced in Zephania 3:17, which says, “The LORD your God in your midst, The Mighty One, will …rejoice over you with singing.” In other words, God is ever singing over us, thus we are sustained by his every word.

Nikola Tesla famously said, “Every living being is an engine geared to the wheelwork of the universe. Though seemingly affected only by its immediate surroundings, the sphere of external influence extends to an infinite distance,” and, “If you want to find the secrets of the universe, think in terms of energy, frequency, and vibration.”

That’s precisely what singing is, “energy, frequency, and vibration“.

Energy, frequency, and vibration are also at the root of string theory, a postulation from quantum physics that speculates that all matter and energy in the universe is bound together by tiny, subatomic torii they call strings. These strings are energy forms that vibrate in much the same way as sound. Thus I have become fascinated by cymatics and the study of sound in all its forms. In that interest, I discovered the experiments of Dr. Masaru Emoto on the Consciousness of Water.

Remembering the primary importance and uniqueness of water among all the compounds of creation, and that we ourselves are more than 70% water, I find the shaped response of frozen water crystals to sound, environment, and even emotion, to be astounding proof of our spiritual existence. All that said, I’m soundly, (pun intended), committed to the rabbit trail I’m on. I have no idea where it will lead, but I intend to follow it all the way to the True Grail. I hope you will come along.

Star of Wonder

by: B. James Wilson

The City of Ekbatana, in the Kingdom of Persia, 7 BC (AUC 747)

At his advanced age it had become difficult for Larvandad to climb, but he perched himself on the high rocks above the longstanding inscriptions of Xerxes and Darius. This spot remained his favorite place for observing the stars. Larvandad was one of only a few remaining Medea Maji in the land of Persia. On this occasion he had spent several nights mapping the sky as it appeared above him, taking special note of a bright, new star that his colleague, Hornisdas of *Arbela, had brought to his attention in a message he had received just a few days ago.

The new star appeared suddenly, in the sign of Varak. It was so brilliant that tonight it shone clearly through the full moon’s veil. Earlier in the month, before the moon was full, when the star was more clearly visible, Larvandad forwarded the message from Hornisdas to his friend and colleague, Gudapharasa, who lived in the distant city of Alexandria-Buscephalus. He was expecting a couriered response from Guda any day now. While he waited, he continued his observations alone.

At the end of the month of Nisan, when the sign of Varak and the star with it, had passed from the night sky, the peace and quiet of Larvandad’s rural estate was disrupted by the loud voices of strangers, by barking dogs, and the braying of beasts of burden. Larvandad was forced to get up and investigate the moil that, as it turned out, accompanied the arrival of his friend, Guda, with an entourage, well prepared to travel.

~

The City of Arbela, in Adiabene, Persia

Inside the queen’s palace, Hornisdas, the long-lived chief adviser to Queen Tsadan, was both surprised and pleased by the order he had received to appear before her. He felt vindicated by the summons. He had been her closest adviser from the time she was a child, but since her conversion to Judaism, he had been called upon less frequently to share his wisdom. By way of her conversion, the queen had adopted new advisers, men whose wisdom regarded the Jewish scriptures more authoritative than Zarathustra. Conversions like hers among the literate of Adiabene had become commonplace. There were many enclaves of Jews remaining in the Persian Empire, leftovers from the days of their enslavement.

In Arbela, the enclave of the Jews was led by one Rabbi, Yehudi ben Hannan. It was he who had taken the queen aside and taught her the ways of Jewish law and the Hebrew God. It was he who convinced her to convert from the superior teachings of Zarathustra. Yehudi ben Hannan taught her to worship the “One” whom the rabbi called, “The Great I Am, and sometimes, “The Living God.”
On the occasion of his summons, Hornisdas was anxious to explain to her about the new star he’d discovered. Since its appearance, he had determined, both by divination and by the star’s place among the signs in the heavens, that it was announcing the birth of a king. And not just any king, but one to rule all Heaven and Earth. In an odd coincidence with the queen’s conversion, all the heavenly indications pointed to this new king being born among the Hebrew people. He knew this because the brilliant star was standing in the sign of Varak, in the Sumerian month of Nisan, a sign that was long recognized among his colleagues as the sign of the Hebrew people.

At the time of his discovery, he sent a message to the queen, informing her of the star’s appearance, he had also dispatched a currier to his friend, and colleague, Larvandad of Ekbatana. While Hornisdas was in audience with the queen, her young son, Izates, hurried in to whisper excitedly in her ear. When he’d gone the queen smiled, stood up and said to Hornisdas, “Your friends from the East have arrived.”

~

Later, in the palace, when Hornisdas tried to show his hospitality, he was surprised to find that Larvandad and Gudapharasa were more anxious to discuss the meaning of his discovery than to partake. Concerned for their well-being, he asked, “But are you not exhausted from your journey?”
Gudapharasa answered, “I will speak only for myself, but it is I who have traveled farthest. I would like to hear what you have to say about this new star, tonight. I can rest tomorrow.”

Hornisdas gave a nod, and the servants poured hot tea for his guests. When that was done, he opened their discussions by pointing out the sudden appearance of the star in the month of Nisan, and its growing brilliance. Because the star appeared in the sign of Varak and stood in that place through the entire month of Nisan, they could agree that the sign foretold the birth of a king among the Hebrew people. Gudapharasa pointed out that it was not a wandering star, like others they had observed. Not like stars that crossed the sky from sign to sign, only to disappear as quickly as they came.
Hornisdas asked, “And how do you interpret that?”
Gudapharasa answered, “If we are correct that the star portends the birth of a king, then, its standing so long in Varak must mean he will have a long reign.”
Larvandad nodded his agreement and added, “Perhaps a lifetime, or longer. Perhaps the sign speaks of an eternal king.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Hornisdas argued. “No kingdom lasts forever. In fact, a king who has sons is fortunate to live much beyond the age of their consent.”

He was quickly embarrassed by his impudence. He turned to Queen Tsadan and her sons, who were in attendance, and apologized, bowing low and saying, “I meant no offense, Your Highness.”
The queen only smiled and said, “None Taken, Old One.”

Her euphemism was an affectionate throwback to her youth when she called him by that name. It was her playful way to needle him. He went on, “I simply mean that dynasties come and go, but there has never been a king that rules beyond a lifetime.”
“Still,” Larvandad responded, “the star remains. It came in a manner like no other in memory, its brightness outshining even the Morning Star, surely the birth it portends is something extraordinary, a king more potent than any before him.”
Guda nodded his agreement and added, “If, as we agree, the sign portends the birth of a king then he will surely be a king like no other.”
Hornisdas, having no argument, nodded quietly and sipped his tea. In that pause, Queen Tsadan spoke.

“Am I right that you men are in agreement that a great king has been born?”
The three wise men nodded in unison and Hornisdas said, “We do agree on that, My Queen.”
Tsadan looked at each of them separately, then said, “But we must know where.”
There was no suggestion from Guda, or Larvandad, but Hornisdas insisted again, “My reading is that this great king has been born among the Hebrew people, I am certain of it.”
“Then we must go to him bearing gifts,” the queen insisted. “We must pay homage, but where? Where has this king been born? Do the signs tell us?”
The three wise men looked at one another questioningly. After a moment, Hornisdas again responded. “We must go to the land of the Hebrew people among whom the birth is foretold. We must travel to Jerusalem.”
The queen lit up then, smiling. She had long wanted an excuse to travel to Jerusalem. She said, “This bright new star has given us every reason to go.”

She was excited by the idea and began to bubble over.

“How long will the journey take? We must begin preparing right away. We must plan to arrive in time to see this star rise again in the next occurrence of Nisan.”

~

As they rested in Palmyra, on the night of the two-hundred and sixty-eighth day of their thousand-mile journey, a soft breeze bearing the sweet scent of date palms wafted over them like a gentle spirit. Queen Tsadan interrupted the discussion of the Maji to ask, “Why do you speak of them as if they live, the stars I mean?”
Hornisdas was quick to answer, recognizing the question as Tsadan’s familiar denial of the traditional Persian gods. He said, in a subtle call for respect, “My Queen, we speak of the gods of our fathers and of Zarathustra. The stars are only their representatives.”
The queen responded, “But the stars you observe are no more alive than your idols.”
Her comment was met with silence. Not because they were confused by her meaning, but out of respect for her station as queen. In the ensuing silence, she added, “There is only one God, Hornisdas, and He made all of this,” she indicated the heavens above them.
Hornisdas sat silent, frustrated. He was, again, being asked to defend the very gods he had taught Tsadan to respect as a child. After a moment he said, “I’m not saying that they live in the stars, My Queen, but that they use the stars to communicate with us.”
“Not with us, Old One,” she indicated herself and her sons, Izates and Monobazus. “They only communicate with you and your friends. They don’t speak to mere mortals. That is why we must have magi, like you, to tell us what the gods are saying.”
Hornisdas was not deaf to the accusation. It was a question of trust. At the risk of affirming the elitism of the priesthood, he said, “I suppose that’s true.”
“Would you worship the gods of Rome?” She asked in a sudden turn of logic.
None of the elders held any love for Rome or Romans. It was Guda who answered definitively. “Certainly not!” The others nodded their agreement.
Queen Tsadan responded saying, “And yet, you do.”
After his initial shock, insulted by the accusation, Larvandad asked, “In what way do I worship the gods of Rome?”
The queen answered, “The stars you depend on for word from your gods have other names given them by the Romans, the Greeks, and even certain Hebrews. The same stars are also representative of their gods, so, in a sense, you worship the gods of Rome and Greece.”
Hornisdas had no response for her. He was far from being ignorant of such thinking. In fact, the same logic had troubled him much of his life, but in all his study of the stars and of the writings of the Avesta, he had no answer to give her. He rose in insult and brushed off his robes, intending to go to his tent. Queen Tsadan asked, “Where are you going, Old One?”

He stopped but gave no response.

“Sit,” she commanded, patting the ground next to her.

“I have much more to say. You have not yet heard my own interpretation of this new star you’ve discovered.”
Hornisdas hesitated but thought better of any open defiance. He sat down next to her, and she smiled at him, squeezing his arm in a sign of affection, and saying, “I have no desire to hurt you, Old One. I only wish to share the truth with you, but sometimes the two are indivisible.”
He gave her a weak smile and Tsadan launched into her ‘truth’ without delay.

“There is only one living God,” she said, speaking what she had learned from the Hebrew scriptures.

“He is the God who created all things both before and since the beginning of time. You know Him as Ahura Mazda, but that is not His name. The other gods you worship in stone and stars, if they live at all, are not gods, but djinn, demons, and evil spirits. They hate you, as they hate the God who created you, for He created you in His own image. They seek nothing less than your utter destruction. They do not answer our prayers, as you well know. Instead, they send merciless curses upon us, then entertain themselves in watching us struggle against their power, only giving occasional relief when one bows to their will. The signs that you see in the stars do not come from the djinn. The signs come from the One and Only God who created both the stars and the djinn. He is the One who speaks to you saying thus:

“The heavens declare the glory of God;
And the firmament shows His handiwork.”

Queen Tsadan swept her hand across the sky, indicating the multitude of stars that filled the darkness above them, then she went on, quoting from the Holy scriptures,

“Day unto day utters speech, And night unto night reveals knowledge.
There is no speech, nor language, Where their voice is not heard.
Their line has gone out through all the earth, And their Words to the end of the World.”

She paused there, staring up at the sky, then concluded, “The Prophet Isaiah long ago foretold the event that you have witnessed in the stars. He wrote,

“For unto us a Child is born,
Unto us a Son is given;
And the government will be upon His shoulder.
And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Of the increase of His government and peace,
There will be no end,
Upon the throne of David and over His kingdom,
To order it and establish it with judgment and justice,
From that time forward, even forevermore.””

Her words were met with a protracted silence, but after time had been adequate for thought, she said, “The God who spoke those words did not speak through an elitist priest, or a distant Maji, like yourselves, but through the mind of a simple shepherd boy named David, whom He later made king.

“This same God has promised, through His prophets, to raise up a Savior among the Hebrew people, a descendant of that same King David. He promises that this son of David will be the Savior of the world.” She paused and looked up, then said, “The star we follow is nothing less than a sign of God’s fulfillment of that long-standing promise.”
The three men sat silent, staring up at the stars above them. Queen Tsadan nodded to Izates who rose to his feet then turned to assist her. As she got up, the three Maji rose in unison with her and bowed.
“I bid you good night, gentlemen,” she said, then Izates escorted her to her tent.
She had given them a great deal to ponder, but Larvandad and Guda retired to their separate tents, too worn to pursue the matter. Hornisdas sat down again where he was and, looking up at the stars, he implored his traditional gods, including Ahura Mazda, to bring clarity of mind to the night’s discussion.

~

Damascus, Syria, 6 BC, (AUC 748)

Winter had come by the time they reached Damascus and there was a chill in the air. Their caravan was seen on the road from Palmyra and announced within the city long before they arrived at the gates. They were met there by Rabbi Moses ben-Hamadi, leader of the oldest synagogue in the city. He had made the arrangements for them in accordance with the letters he had received from his friend, Rabbi Yehudi ben Hannan of Arbela. All was in readiness when their caravan entered Damascus.
As they passed through the North Gate, Queen Tsadan felt a faint familiarity with the teaming streets. She had come to Damascus as a child with Hornisdas. Now, her young sons were experiencing that same thrill for the first time. They were overwhelmed by what they saw and heard. The city was vastly larger than Arbela, or Ekbatana, or Alexandria-Bucephalus. Damascus was larger than all three combined, and mightier in every way. The ancient city represented the seat of Roman rule in the region. Quirinius was governor here, his consolidated power was protected by thick, high walls and guarded by a substantial force of Roman soldiers, and this show of power was what most impressed the queen’s sons.

That evening, their breath became visible as the fading sun turned the sky to gold, then pink, and finally royal purple. They rested in the warmth of the synagogue’s guest quarters, where, over tea, Rabbi Moses ben-Hamadi explained with frustration, “Caesar Augustus has ordered a census be taken. The edict requires that every man be counted in the place of his birth. The census is creating chaos in the streets, but Quirinius doesn’t care. He’s gone to his villa in Rome to escape the madness.”
Hornisdas responded, “That explains the crowds and the many carts filled with household possessions.”
Queen Tsadan said, “I suppose they must be counted so that they can be further taxed by Rome.”

She paused, then said, “At this moment, however, I am more concerned over the matter I wrote you about.”
Moses snapped his fingers and a servant hurried to his side. He whispered in the man’s ear and the servant hurried off. Moses said, “The matter is well in hand My Queen. King Herod has offered his invitation for you and your party to join him in Jerusalem for the celebration of Hanukkah. I gave him no other explanation for your visit. I thought it wise to withhold news of the star until you arrive.”
The servant returned a moment later with several small, scrolled documents. He bowed and handed them to Queen Tsadan. Moses said, “These are copies of the letters exchanged between myself and Nicolas of Damascus, King Herod’s personal scribe. I identified you to him by your Greek name, Queen Helena of Adiabene, as you requested.”

Tsadan, now to be called Helena, handed the letters to her son, Monobazus. She said, “I thank you Teacher but, for now, we would like to take our ease here in Damascus, with you.”
“You are certainly welcome to remain as long as you like, My Queen,” Moses offered, bowing to her wishes.
For the very generous contribution she made to the synagogue’s coffers, the rabbi was happy to accommodate her, and her entourage, for as long as she liked. By way of conversation, he asked, “What do you know of King Herod, My Queen?”
She answered, “Very little really, other than he is a Roman client, appointed King of Judea by his friend, Caesar Augustus. I’ve also heard of his many building projects. There are those who say he is an architectural genius.”
Moses responded, “Genius though he may be, there is a darker side that you should be aware of, My Queen, but perhaps the time has come for the children to retire.”
At his suggestion, Helena nodded to her sons, then to her maids. The boys stood up, excused themselves politely, and left the room. Then, turning to Hornisdas, Moses said, “My apologies, gentlemen, might the queen and I have a private moment?”
At his request, Hornisdas, Larvandad, and Gudapharasa got to their feet and bowed politely. Hornisdas said, “Rest well My Queen,” and the three retired from the room.
With only Moses’ servants remaining, the rabbi took on a very serious tone and said, “To be perfectly honest, My Queen, there are many recent reports of King Herod’s great cruelties among the people of Judea. And not just among the people, but within his own family.”
Helena gave Moses her full attention as he related the details of his concerns. “It would seem that Herod has lost his mind. He is overcome by an unreasonable fear that his family and others are plotting to overthrow him.”

Moses briefly sipped from his tea as he gathered his thoughts, then continued, saying, “He recently accused his two eldest sons of conspiring against him. The truth is, he had them tried and put to death simply because they had come of age.”
Helena was shocked by the news. Her eyes grew wide, and remembering Hornisdas’ troubling words, ‘A king who has sons is fortunate to live much beyond their age of consent,’ she refrained from making comment. Certainly, Herod was not the only king to have murdered his own family. In fact, in her knowledge, such murder was common. It was true that there could be no greater threat to one’s longevity than to be named a royal successor, or worse, to be named king. She understood well that as soon as one receives a royal moniker, one’s friends can seem to become conspiratorial enemies.

~

Jerusalem – 5 BC, (AUC 749)

When the month of Adar was nearly gone, and the winter with it, Helena and her entourage left Damascus behind and began their trek to Jerusalem. Though the Roman Kings Highway was better maintained than the roads in Adiabene, the land of Judea was rugged, with steep inclines and frequent switchbacks. The cobbled roads and rutted cart paths of the Decapolis were covered each morning with thick frost that caused the animals to slip and slide, slowing the pace of their journey. When they came down from the high plains of the Decapolis, into the Jordan valley, at Jericho, there were only a few days remaining before the first day of Nisan. After two days’ rest, they left Jericho and began the final, arduous climb to the city of Jerusalem. The arrival of such a large contingent outside the East Gate caused quite a stir. So much so, that the captain of the guard sent a contingent of Roman soldiers to escort them into the city.

King Herod’s palace was a massive complex, enclosed within thick walls that separated it from the rest of the city. The palace, Herod’s own design, consisted of two great, matching buildings, mirrored across a vast courtyard that was enclosed on each side by long colonnades. One side of the palace was Herod’s residence, the other was reserved for his guests. The guest portion also contained his throne room and a great hall for entertaining. Queen Helena, her sons, and her three wise men were taken to the guest house, where they were welcomed by Herod’s servants, and given rest.
In the evening, Herod hosted a gala, celebrating their arrival with feasting and entertainment. He invited Helena and her sons to sit at the head table with him, and his latest wife, Cleopatra of Jerusalem. He was anxious to know the purpose of their visit, and though Queen Helena assured him that it was a matter of great importance, she excused herself from discussing it until she had rested from her long journey. Herod was most gracious in his understanding and, though he, himself, would be traveling the next day, he allowed that they could meet and discuss the matter upon his return. Helena was grateful for his understanding, thanking him, then excusing herself early from the banquet, to return to her quarters in the guest palace.

~

The following morning, in Herod’s absence, Helena took time to visit the Temple he had built in honor of the God of the Jews. She had never seen such grandeur in all her life, not even in Damascus, which was a larger, richer city. The stairs she climbed to enter the temple, arched over the city’s narrow streets, a testimony to Herod’s genius.

Entering under the high ceilings of the colonnade on the southern end of a vast, open courtyard, the view took her breath away. As she walked between the towering columns, the temple itself came into her view, rising above all other structures, gleaming white and trimmed with gold. Helena fell to her knees in awe. She felt surrounded by the presence of the Living God. As she prayed aloud, a gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder.

Looking up, Helena found a bent, old woman hovering over her. The woman was ancient in appearance, with skin like weathered parchment, but her eyes were bright with youthful energy. She spoke in Aramaic, with a voice like a carpenter’s rasp. Though Helena recognized the language, she neither spoke nor understood it. She responded in Greek, the international language of educated people. The old woman gave her a toothless grin and said, speaking in Greek, “You are new to the Temple. Is this your first time? I’ve not seen you here before.”

Helena was slow to come out of the fog of her prayers, but she smiled and bowed humbly to the old woman, then said, “I am Helena, Queen of Adiabene, in the east.”

The old woman began to grovel, but Helena took her arm and lifted her to her feet. The woman introduced herself with the same, gravelly voice, “I am Anna, a devotee of God and servant of the Temple.”

Helena knew nothing of Anna, of her eighty years of Nazarite devotion to God, or that she was a well-known prophetess, but she sensed her gentle soul, her dedication to God, and she befriended her on the spot. She spent much of that day with the old woman, who gave her a royal tour, explaining the functions of the temple and the rules regarding the various areas set aside for special purposes. Anna explained, with apologies, that Helena, queen though she may be, would be required to remain in the outer court, because, in addition to being a queen, she was also a Gentile.

~
Herod did not return that day, nor the next. In the evenings, Helena, along with her sons, dined with Herod’s wife, Cleopatra of Jerusalem, and her son, Phillip. The boys got along famously and, as a result, the two women drew closer to one another. With full knowledge that Herod had his second wife and her sons executed, Helena was sensitive to the terror that underlined every careful word that Cleopatra spoke. As the evening wore on, however, wine loosened the woman’s tongue and a deeper picture of the man she had married began to emerge. When Helena, trying to keep the conversation on track, commented on the impressive beauty of King Herod’s Temple restoration, she added, “He must be deeply devoted to God.”
Cleopatra laughed into her goblet. Wine splashed out onto her face and onto the fine, white linen cloth that covered the table. Then, thinking better of her display of disrespect, she dismissed the boys and waited for them to leave before commenting further. When they were gone, she asked, “You know nothing of his pagan cruelties?”
Helena declined to comment, but her brow posed the question she would otherwise ask. Cleopatra answered Helena’s silence. “Herod is a Jew by tradition only. He has no faith in God. His father was Idumean, a Moabite, forced at the point of a sword to convert to Judaism. Herod only pretends, in the same way his father did, as a way to grasp the tenuous power Rome has entrusted to him. He only pretends to be a Jew. He builds temples to gain the trust of the Jewish leaders because he fears their influence in Rome.”

She took a long slug of wine from her goblet then went on. “He does the same for Rome, building cities, and Colosseums with great edifices, pretending to be Roman. In truth, he is neither Roman, nor Jew, but a pretender to both.”

She paused and took another drink, then said, “The pathetic truth is that, in both their eyes, he is nothing more than a dog.”
She lifted her goblet, as if offering a toast, and laughed again. “He doesn’t see it. To his Roman masters, he’s a good dog, at least for the moment. To the Jews,” her face screwed up as if she’d swallowed a bitter herb, “oh those fickle, treacherous Jews,” she complained. “To them, he is never anything more than a bastard mongrel.”

She took down another slug of wine, then concluded with a metaphor, “He lives in fear that one day he will unknowingly pee on the precious carpet of the Roman empire and, in their view, be once again branded a bad dog. You see, Herod is a stubborn, arrogant man, a dog who never quite learns his place.”
Again, Helena wisely chose not to comment. Instead, she changed the subject, telling Cleopatra about her visit to the Temple that morning. Afterward, in what turned out to be a grave error, she, also under the influence of too much wine, spoke briefly of the star that led her to Jerusalem in search of a newborn king. When the meal was finished, she returned to her quarters, there to rest and to contemplate the disturbing things she had learned of her host.

~
When Herod returned, on the fourth day of Nisan, he called for Helena and her three Maji to appear before him in the throne room. She was surprised and a little disturbed that the summons was official, and not an invitation. The commander of Herod’s personal guard delivered it. Helena and her party were escorted to the throne room that morning by Herod’s soldiers. She was again surprised to find a full council assembled there. The audience was formally attended by Herod’s own wise men, by the leaders of the Sanhedrin, their advisers, and a multitude of scribes.
As Helena stood before him, Herod inquired again about the purpose of her visit to Jerusalem. It was clear, by the tone of his question and the formality of the meeting, that he already knew the answer. She recalled, then, her foolish remark to Cleopatra and realized that Herod felt deceived by her. For that reason, she deferred to Hornisdas with apologies. Not to throw him to the wolves, as they say, but because he was not considered the deceiver and he was the most knowledgeable among them of the announcing star.
Hornisdas bowed humbly, introduced himself, including his credentials, then said to Herod and his council, “In the month of Nisan, last, I discovered a new star that appeared in the sign of Varak, that is, according to Jewish tradition, Aries, the ram. This new star very quickly grew to be the brightest star in the heavens. Not a wandering star, My King, but one that stood for the entire month of Nisan in the sign of the Hebrew people.”

Hornisdas indicated Larvandad and Gudapharasa, saying, “My colleagues and I, after long observance, have determined that the star portends the birth of a king. As a result, we have come to inquire of him and to pay homage, sire, with your permission of course.” He bowed again and stepped back.
Herod could not hide his concern. He was obviously stunned by the news. Helena observed the spasms of twitching under his left eye, a clear sign of his suppressed rage. For a long moment, he was speechless, then, finally, he turned, angrily, on his royal advisers and asked, “Why have I not been told of this star?”
His advisers stood dumb, looking at one another, until the eldest among them, a Sadducee named Jannaeus, after groveling before Herod, took his feet and said, “We have made no such observation, My King. We have our doubts about the authenticity of this man’s testimony.”
Herod turned back to Hornisdas and, in a gruff charge, asked him, “Did you hear that? My wise men have doubts about your discovery. They say that you’re lying. What have you to say to them?”
Having no personal knowledge of Herod’s madness or cruelties, Hornisdas rose to his feet, fearless. Bowing humbly to Herod first, then to his wise men, he said, “With apologies, My King, we are certain of what we saw, and of our interpretation. We planned our journey to arrive in Jerusalem in time to see the star rise again in the east, as it did Nisan, last.”
Herod stiffened and said, “That being true, I too should be able to observe the star, this very night, should I not?”
Hornisdas consulted in whispers with Larvandad, who checked his calculations and nervously nodded the affirmative. He turned back to the king and bowing again said, “Yes, My King. Aries should rise in the east, late, near dawn. We are certain that the new star will rise with it.”

~
Early the next morning, before dawn, Queen Helena, along with Hornisdas and the other Maji, sat nervously on the palace roof, with Herod, his wise men, and a large group of observers. The night was cool, and the sky was clear. Above them, the stars covered the heavens like a sparkling blanket. As they waited, they were entertained by the periodic bright streaks of falling stars. Herod and his advisers sat deathly silent, seeing in the falling stars a harbinger of their own demise.
The minutes passed like hours as they awaited the arrival of Aries, the ram. Herod’s advisers confirmed that Aries would rise before dawn, but they assured him the constellation would rise without a new star. Now, they sat nervously, doubtful of their own words. When at last Aries showed itself on the eastern horizon, just more than an hour before the sunrise, the new star stood there, unmoving, bigger, and brighter than ever. Hornisdas pointed it out to Herod as soon as it was clearly visible, but the king’s advisers had already seen it.

Knowing his fate was already sealed, Jannaeus tried to argue that it was the Morning Star and nothing more, but shortly after, Venus also appeared, and his argument fell apart around him. They stood silent on the roof, trembling for more than an hour until the brightness of the rising sun overcame all but the wondrous new star. Stewing in angry silence, Herod rose from his place, all present rising with him. The twitching under his left eye was more pronounced than ever. To Queen Helena, he politely excused himself. Then, turning to his wise men he said, in an icy command, “Meet with me in chambers, gentlemen,” then he stormed away.
On their way down from the roof, Helena, with Hornisdas, Larvandad, and Guda, heard Herod’s raging. His angry voice echoed through the vast, empty halls of the southern palace. Helena, having been told of Herod’s brutal nature, was grieved by the pleading tones of his advisers, especially the elder, Jannaeus, whose fate she thought was certain. Herod was demanding that Jannaeus tell him who this king, born to the Jews, could be. She could not quite hear the softer tones of the answer, but she heard Herod’s enraged response, “…and where is the Messiah to be born?”

~
Helena rose late the next day, following a restless night. She dressed hurriedly and returned to the temple to pray. Not long after her arrival, Anna found her in the Court of Gentiles. She had brought an old man along with her, one equal to her longevity, if not exceeding it. She introduced him as a seer named Simeon. He was so elderly that he was barely able to walk. His hands were frail and knotted by crippling rheumatism, and he could barely speak, but when Helena explained about the star and inquired as to where the Messiah was to be born, his voice became animated and strong. “I have seen Him,” he declared.
Anna added, “We have both seen Him, on the day of His dedication, here, in the Temple.”
Simeon nodded then added, “I awaited His birth for most of my life and now, the Lord has graciously allowed me to see my Redeemer before I die.”
Helena could feel her heart, thumping with excitement. She asked, “When was it that you saw the child?”
Simeon gave thought, then answered, “It was in this month, Nisan, just two seasons past, I believe. My memory is not what it used to be.”
And where might the child be found?” She asked.
It was Anna who gave answer to this question. “His mother gave birth in Bethlehem, of David. You might find them there still.” She paused, then added, “Though, I saw in a vision that the child is in great danger.”
Danger?” Helena inquired.
Anna closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sky. Her mouth worked as if she were speaking to someone unseen. After a moment she said, “There is a great stirring in the darkness. The Prince of This World prepares a wicked brew against the child and there is little time for Him to be rescued. I can hear a great wailing of grief coming from Bethlehem.”
At that, the bent old woman’s eyes sprung wide and locked with Helena’s. She spoke with alarm when she said, “It is you! You are the instrument of the child’s demise. You must pray, beg God to lift this burden from you!”
The old woman’s words left Helena shaken. She realized that, indeed, she had been an instrument of evil by revealing the birth of the heavenly king to an evil man who was mad with jealousy. In response, she fell to her knees and prayed fervently, as Anna had suggested.

~

That evening, in Herod’s palace, Helena and her Maji were summoned again by Herod to appear before him in an official forum. When they entered his throne room, he sat scowling upon his throne of judgment, surrounded by his advisers, though the elder, Jannaeus, was ominously missing. Helena and her entourage bowed respectfully then stood before Herod awaiting his word.

“We,” he began, feigning calm, “myself and my advisers have had some long discussions regarding the birthplace of the Jewish Messiah, whom we believe must be the king you seek. We conclude that His birth was foretold, by the prophet Hosea, to take place in a small hamlet to the south of Jerusalem, a place called Bethlehem.”

Herod indicated one of his scribes. The man stepped forward and read from an ornate scroll.

“But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah,
Though you are little among the thousands of Judah,
Yet out of you shall come forth to Me,
The One to be Ruler in Israel,
Whose goings forth are from of old,
From everlasting.”

Helena’s heart leapt and the hairs raised up on the back of her neck at hearing the place of his birth named ‘Bethlehem’, just as Anna told her. She thought of how Anna cried out at the mention of the place. Helena saw great anguish in the old woman’s eyes as she remembered the words of her own prophesy “I warned her, that young girl, the child’s mother. I gave her the prophecy from scripture;

‘Thus says Jehovah, A voice in Ramah is heard, wailing, weeping most bitter, Rachel is weeping for her sons, She hath refused to be comforted for her sons because they are no more’.”

With Anna’s words reverberating in her mind, Helena barely heard King Herod explaining that he too would like to pay homage to this new king. At that same moment, Hornisdas felt himself drifting into one of the trances he sometimes experienced.

They always began the same way, a strange tightening of his scalp, as if it were shrinking around his head, squeezing his brain, distorting his sight. As always, a rotating mandala appeared in front of him, a carousel of tiny, colored bars of light, assembled in an intricate, rotating wheel that stood somewhere between him and his view of King Herod. As the mandala grew in size, a vision formed in front of him. It was a vision of evil, a vision of something demonic within Herod’s soul. As the king was finishing his instruction to them, Hornisdas became aware of the words, “…I would ask that you return to Jerusalem for more of my hospitality before continuing on to your homeland. That way, you can inform me where the child may be found so that I too might pay tribute to him.”

The next Hornisdas knew he was lying on the marble floor of King Herod’s throne room. Queen Helena was hovering over him, softly slapping his cheek and saying, “Old One, wake up. You’ve had another of your spells.”

All night that night, Helena tossed and turned, unable to sleep, concerned about Hornisdas’ warning of the demons who possessed King Herod’s soul, of the king’s lies and of his evil obsession to murder the child, the Heavenly King. In his concern, Hornisdas suggested that they should avoid Bethlehem altogether and return to Arbela, but Helena was clear in her response.

“We speak of the Messiah King, sent to us from Holy God Himself. How can we not pay tribute? What can evil do to us to prevent us from honoring The Living God?”

~

In the morning, as the servants prepared her entourage for their departure from Jerusalem, a worn and winded messenger arrived from Damascus. He was charged to deliver his message into Queen Helena’s hand and to no one else. The small scroll was sealed with the signet of Moses ben-Hamadi. Hornisdas watched as the queen’s eyes grew wide. Tears began to stream down her cheeks, and she collapsed to the ground, weeping. She handed the scroll to Hornisdas without words. On it, he read the tragic news of King Monobaz’s death. His thoughts went immediately to the queen’s question of the previous night, “What can evil do to us…”

Helena’s thoughts went to Anna’s decree and her prayer, that God would lift the burden of her guilt, of her complicity in the evil that was poised and ready to murder the Messiah-King. In her grief, Helena chose a different plan. The following morning, when all was in readiness, Queen Helena’s caravan set off north, on the Damascus Road, to return to Arbela where she would install her eldest son, Monobazus, on the throne of Adiabene. Her younger son, Izates, would remain in Jerusalem, to be schooled among the rabbis and the temple scribes, as prearranged. She insisted that Hornisdas, Larvandad, and Gudapharasa travel on to Bethlehem, to find the Messiah King and pay tribute to him. She commanded they not return to Jerusalem, as Herod desired, but they should find another way home to Arbela.

~

Bethlehem, 5 BC (AUC 749)

Joseph saw nothing extraordinary in the boy-child that Mary delivered on that cold night in Nisan, two years hence. He accepted the boy as his own, by faith in the vision he had received from angels. But in all that transpired on the night of Jesus’ birth, including the testimony of the shepherds, there had been nothing to cause Joseph to anticipate the arrival of nobility from the East, three of them, coming to pay homage to the boy. In fact, their coming worried him. In his latest vision, an angel warned him to leave Bethlehem, to take Mary and the child, and flee to Egypt. He intended to obey, but he had not the resources to “flee,” as the angel commanded, so he remained, still in Bethlehem, praying for God’s provision, praying for a way to comply with God’s will.

Joseph firmly believed all along that God would provide for the journey and, today, these men, these important Maji from the East, with a great procession accompanying them, have come to bow before the child, Jesus, calling him a king, and offering lavish gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. The gifts alone were worth more than enough to pay for the journey to Egypt and to start a new life there. But the one called Hornisdas of Arbela brought much more than gifts of gold. He brought an explanation of the star which, on this night, still shone brightly overhead. The aged Magi told Joseph, “Along with this tribute of gold from Queen Helena, ruler of Adiabene in the Persian Empire, I bring you a dire warning. You are in great danger from King Herod. In his madness, he seeks the life of this child. For the sake of the child and, more, for the kingdoms over which He will one day rule, you must leave this place before Herod finds you.”

The Maji’s words were nothing less than confirmation of the angel’s warning. And the gifts were nothing less than God’s provision for the journey. Joseph could see in all of it, the overflow of God’s generous provision.

If that were not enough, Hornisdas offered further, “You must come with us, this very night. We will give you protection as we travel together.”

There was no hesitation in Joseph’s acceptance of the offer. He and Mary departed Bethlehem, with the child, Jesus, that very night, leaving behind their hovel and what little furnishings they possessed.

They traveled south, under the protection of God, provided through the generosity of Queen Tsadan, Helena, queen of a distant land. They traveled under a star whose brilliance outshone even the moon, and by its light, they made their way to Hebron, where they stopped and rested.

~

In Arbela, in Adiabene, Helena received a communique from Izates, her youngest son, still in Jerusalem. Among other things, it bore news of a great tragedy that followed the birth of the Messiah King. In the letter, Izates spoke of Herod’s growing madness and his murder of the children in Bethlehem, of all the males under the age of two. Herod’s palace guards brutally slayed eleven of the male children. As the prophet Hosea foretold, and as Anna had seen in her vision, the village of Bethlehem could do nothing but weep and wail for its sons.

There was an unfamiliar bitterness in the tone of the letter. It indicated a terrible change in her young son’s heart, a sense of loss, the loss of innocence, the loss of hope. There was a sense that his gentle spirit had become poisoned by Herod’s cruelties, and by the vileness of human nature that it revealed to him. He had been radicalized by the iron fist of Roman power. But Queen Tsadan knew, by Hornisdas’ return to Arbela, what her son did not know; that Massiah lives. She would be sure to tell him in her response. In the meantime, she would pray fervently for her son’s redemption, as well as for the Child-King, the Messiah who would one day save the world.

~

Notes:

In the fall of 2010, archaeologists in Israel, digging beneath a parking lot in Jerusalem, discovered the remains of a large palace. Inside was the well-preserved tomb of a person of obvious wealth and influence. The tomb contained a sarcophagus clearly marked with the name, Queen Tsadan. The palace and sarcophagus were archaeological proof of what was already written by Flavius Josephus, the first century historian. In his work entitled “The Antiquities of The Jews” he wrote extensively about her, calling her by her Greek name, Queen Helena of Adiabene. (Ref. BAR)

*That is Arbela of Adiabene, of the Parthian Empire in the East, not the Arbela found in ancient Israel.

** All Biblical quotes, shown in italics, are from the New King James Version, Thomas Nelson, Harper Collins publishers.

Breaking – Alert

It’s hard to believe after spending nearly a year crawling through the dark tunnel of a first draft, but at 10:35 this morning, August 18th, 2021, I finally wrote the last line of “Patriarch”, the second novel in the Bible Book Club series. There’s still plenty of work to do, but this calls for popping my head up out of the tunnel for a moment of celebration!

My New PC

I grew weary of all the crashes. My Toshiba Laptop was dying, it crashed every day. I’m not talking about an app going unresponsive, or Windows locking up, those things were happening too, but I’m talking about catastrophic, blue-screen crashes; EVERY DAY! Whenever it happened it would take twenty minutes to bring Windows 7 back up and recover the manuscript or whatever I was working on. I’d had enough. Something needed to be done, but I couldn’t afford the average $800.00 cost of a new laptop, so I started shopping around and that’s when I ran across the Pocket PC.

I’ve been using this thing for about three weeks now and I have to tell you that I’m really happy with it so far. Now remember, I use it for work. That means word processing, primarily, with a little social media, e-mail and lots of research thrown in. It’s not a gaming computer, but it works fine with YouTube and other imbedded or streaming video or music services.
It runs on Windows 10 Pro, already installed, an upgrade I was planning anyway, but my laptop was not a perfect match for Windows 10 and there was the crash situation going on. For my work, I use Apache Open Office, but for reasons of compatibility with services I use regularly, I was considering a change to Microsoft Word. I’ve downloaded Open Office to my Pocket PC with no problems, but I went ahead and signed up for Microsoft Office 365. Both are working beautifully, but because I use OneNote every day, and for cross platform requirements, I’m now leaning more on Office 365.
I do a lot of traveling and that weighed heavily in my decision. We’re talking about a device that will literally fit in your shirt pocket, like your phone. It weighs 1.5 ounces and comes with a power brick and an HDMI extender cable. That’s it. You simply plug it into an HDMI driven TV or Monitor and, voila, your ready to role. I’m using a remote, wireless keyboard and mouse plugged into a USB port expander, adding three USB-2 ports where there was only one. To expand the 64Gig, on-board C: drive I’ve added a 128Gig micro SD card, as drive E:. I use it for downloads and storing various add-on applications. In addition, I’ve plugged a 256Gig thumb drive, F: into the highspeed USB-3 slot provided. I use it to store photos, videos and my productivity files.
Everything is working together smoothly and I couldn’t be happier with my choice, at just over $100.00. I’ve plugged it into a 20″ HDTV that was lying around the house, one that fits nicely on my writing desk. On my next trip I intend to purchase a 15.5″ portable HD monitor to take along with me, for just over $100.00.
The only negative I see in this is that the manufacturer, HIRUN, is a Chinese firm. That almost certainly means that the device contains a backdoor chip that can be used to collect and report information about you to the CCP. This is a big downside to me, but the reality is that any technology you buy today, and I mean any, is most likely spying on you anyway. If it’s not the Chinese government it will be your own government, or some third party, or, most likely, all three. Even so, I feel like I’ve made a good choice. Considering the price, this product is just what the doctor ordered for kids doing school online, or a dozen other applications, or a poor poet who needs an upgrade.

Duplicity – A Review

B. James Wilson – Sugar Hill, Ga. April 18, 2021

Last night at Lanier High School in Buford, I attended a play written, produced and directed by one of the drama students in the school’s senior class. The title of the play was “Duplicity”, and it was so well written and performed that it could have played on, or off Broadway. It was a true work of genius, and the author, Eliana Keasler, I predict, will be a force to contend with in both theater and the literary world.

“Duplicity” is the story of a young lady who has grown from childhood with a transplanted heart beating in her chest, a heart that has a life and a will of its own, for, the donor, a child, a girl named Clair, was not ready to die on the day that an accident took her life. Instead, her soul clung to that heart as it was transplanted into Phoebe’s body. As Phoebe grew and became a teenager, she was confused by the voice she had always heard in her head, a voice that, as the years went by, became angry and bitter. While Phoebe’s mother and her doctor had figured out that Clair’s soul and spirit, were growing inside Phoebe, they thought it best to keep that reality from her.

There comes a time in every child’s life, however, that the seeds of rebellion begin to grow. It is the natural consequence of sin that entered into the world, and into each of us, from the beginning. In Phoebe’s case, the voice in her head begins to double the power of temptation, urging her to go out into the world and “join the party”, as it were. Phoebe tries to resist, but Clair becomes more and more powerful, until she is able to take control of Phoebe’s life, her voice, her body, and the choices she makes.

The only stabilizing force in Phoebe’s life is her friend Tristen, a young man she has grown up with. Tristen tries hard to restrain Phoebe from fulfilling Clair’s desires but Clair forces Phoebe to reject him. Tristen knows that the voice in Phoebe’s head is not her own, but he has been directed by Phoebe’s doctor and her mother to never reveal that disturbing truth to Phoebe. None-the-less, Tristen firmly believes that the truth will bring healing, that the truth will set Phoebe free.

In the end, it is Clair who is set free. Learning the truth, that she died as a little girl and that her heart was transplanted into Phoebe’s body, Clair is freed to move on. Phoebe is restored to a normal life. Having resisted all the temptation that was forced upon her, she returns to Tristen’s side, and the two enter life together, kept pure by their isolation.

In a surprising twist, the student who was to play the lead role was unable to perform, so Eliana Keasler took on the role of Phoebe herself, in a flawless and impressive performance. I must also give kudos to her excellent, supporting cast. Without their deeply felt performances, it goes without saying, this stunning work could not have stood so tall. In conclusion, the least that I can say about “Duplicity” is Bravo! Bravo! Bravo! Congratulations to Ms. Keasler who is also the author of a novel entitled “Attu Island“, available now from Lulu, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and others.

The Wreck of The El Dorado

[image error]So it continues, the revisionist attack on Christopher Columbus. Historically speaking, he’s very familiar with being defamed. Don’t get me wrong, he and I would not have been friends, but we live in different times, with different values and different priorities. Life for people back then was much more brutal and difficult than it is for us today. People had to be ruthless if they were to succeed, as success was defined in that time. That said, revisionists have assigned a character to Columbus that really belongs to those who followed him.

The reputation he’s been accused of, more accurately belongs to men such as King Ferdinand and his Queen, Isabella, and to the governors of Hispaniola who replaced Columbus by order of the king. I speak of Francisco de Bobadilla and, following serious complaints about his many sadistic abuses of both the native populations and the colonists, his replacement, Don Nicolas de Orvando y Caceres, who was only a slight improvement.

The reality is, that as imperfect as Christopher Columbus may have been, he was sincere in his quest to find a new route to India in order to save European commerce from the ravages of the Muslim pirates of the Barbary Coast that infested the seas around Africa; and he was sincere in his desire to introduce the gospel of Christ to those he met along the way. But, what made him a pariah to the Spanish crown and their minions was his insistence that Spain adhere to the contract they made with him at the beginning. You see, above all things, Christopher Columbus was a man of integrity. Unfortunately there is nothing a greedy world hates more than integrity. Here’s an excerpt about him from my current project, “The Practician”.

September 1503

In Barcelona, in the Castillo Viejo, near the Cathedral of the Holy Cross and Saint Eulalia, Alonzo Sanchez de Carvajal sat in the defendant’s box, sweating nervously, the only witness in a hastily assembled Court of Inquiry. He was called there to give his testimony, but he’d been treated as a criminal since the first moment of his arrival in Spain. He knew better than to suppose that it would be any different. It was a foregone conclusion that anyone other than he, any other captain of the fleet, would have been treated as a returning hero. Alonzo’s poor reception was fated, however. His close association with Admiral Columbus, assured him a measure of ill-treatment, no matter the conditions of his return. In this case, the circumstances were tragic beyond comprehension, but, in truth, the ill-treatment began long before the current tragedy struck.

More than a year ago, in May of 1502, when Alonzo was in Santo Domingo, the officials of the colony were assembling a treasure fleet. It would be the first Flota de la Plata brought together to transport the crown’s vast, New World treasures back to Spain. The governor, Don Nicolas de Orvando y Caceres, had assigned Alonzo, along with Admiral Columbus’ gold, to the most pathetic ship of the fleet, a tiny wreck called La Aguja, The Needle. It was an apt name for the narrow-beamed vessel it described. There were several reasons for this abuse. First, the assignment was made at the request of Francisco de Bobadilla, the outgoing governor of the colony, who had been feuding with Columbus ever since de Bobadilla’s arrival in 1500. Francisco de Bobadilla came to Hispaniola to replace Columbus as governor after Columbus had fallen into disfavor with the royal court of Spain. As his first official act, de Bobadilla banned Columbus from even landing on the isle of Hispaniola, thereby sowing the seed that grew into a malicious feud between the two men.

Second, de Orvando assigned Alonzo to La Aguja, knowing little of his background as a sea captain. Alonzo was more officially known as Columbus’ accountant, but Admiral Columbus originally hired him for his skill as a seaman, and later, learning of his accounting expertise, put Him in command of one of his ships, the Santiago de Palos. Columbus’ thinking was that, whatever treasures he might acquire on his second and third voyages to the West Indies, would be kept aboard the Santiago de Palos, with Alonzo as captain and in charge of its accounting. In de Bobadilla’s mind, however, and thus, de Orvando’s, giving an accountant command of the frailest ship in the fleet would certainly insure its loss at sea, and, since the only thing of value aboard the ship would be the gold belonging to his arch enemy, the loss would go unnoticed by anyone but Columbus himself. As to the ship’s crew, the governor was unconcerned about a few lives being lost as a price for sweet revenge. Especially considering those lives were, to a man, persona-non-grata. The horrible irony of the governor’s fiendish plot was that, of the thirty one ships that left the port of Santo Domingo on June 29, of 1502, only five survived the horrible storm that struck the fleet at sea that very night.

Admiral Columbus tried to warn them about the advancing storm, when he arrived the day before the fleet departed. He came seeking shelter in Santo Domingo’s small harbor, but, ignoring the Admiral’s warnings, de Orvando not only ignorantly denied refuge to Columbus, but he ordered the gold fleet to sail as well. Of the five ships that survived, only one made it to Spain, and that was the hopeless wreck called La Aguja, spared only by the superior seamanship of its accountant captain, Alonzo Sanchez de Carvajal.

Now, as Alonzo faced the inquisitor in court, he found himself defending, not just himself, as captain of the only ship to reach Spain, but also defending Admiral Columbus against charges as ridiculous as witchcraft. The inquisitor leaned in next to him, close enough that he could smell the man’s foul breath. Resting his forearms on the railing of the box in which Alonzo stood, alone, with every eye in the court riveted on him, the inquisitor asked, “And what was the weather when you left the port of Santo Domingo on June 29th?” Alonzo hesitated, and looked up at the judge, sitting behind the high bench in front of him, a scowl forming the man’s constant expression. “Well, Senior Carvajal?” The judge prompted.

Alonzo cleared his throat, nervously and answered. “The weather was fair, with a steady breeze from the west-north-west.”

“And, based on the weather, was there any reason to assume that a storm was coming your way, Captain Carvajal?”

The inquisitor only used the title, “Captain,” to establish Alonzo’s expertise in such matters, another irony added to a very long list. Alonzo began to explain, “Well, Your Excellency, there was the matter of Admiral Columbus’ warning which was based on well-founded knowledge from certain local natives. And there was the matter of the wind. Prevailing winds…”

The judge interrupted him. “Captain! The question requires only a yes, or no. Please answer in that manner.”

Alonzo felt trapped. If he answered “yes,” he would place himself squarely at the point of the inquisitor’s sword, and, if he said “no,” he would be placing Admiral Columbus in that same position. He hesitated and, to his great surprise, was saved by the inquisitor himself. “I would allow the witness to continue, Excellency, if it please the court.”

The judge looked at the inquisitor, first surprised, then, scowling again, he nodded for Alonzo to continue.

“Prevailing winds at that time of year, in the area of Hispaniola are from the southeast, so it was odd that the wind that day was steady from the west.”

The inquisitor asked, “But was there reason enough for you, yourself, to believe that it was reckless, or unsafe to leave port on the morning of June 29th?”

“Well, as I said…”

“Yes, or no, Captain!” The judge bellowed.

“Well, no, Excellency.”

“Thank you, Captain,” the inquisitor said. Then, placing his finger to his lips he turned to face the judge, and asked, “Now, you spoke of the natives, and their local knowledge, what did you mean by that, Captain Carvajal?”

Alonzo hesitated again. The question seemed innocent enough, but he knew that there was no question that he could trust from this man, or anyone in this courtroom for that matter, one and all being in mind of condemning him and along with him, Admiral Columbus. All of them, including and especially the judge, were seeking some way to relieve the Admiral of the only gold that survived the storm. He answered as circumspectly as he could without lying. “I simply mean that Admiral Columbus arrived at the port of Santo Domingo and requested shelter from an approaching storm. A storm he described as being of great magnitude. Of course, he was denied safe harbor by Governor de Orvando.”

The Inquisitor, sensing an opportunity to defame Columbus before the court, asked, “Why do you think The Admiral felt he had to ask for safe Harbor? Couldn’t he have just paid, like everyone else?” But before Alonzo could answer, the inquisitor insisted, “Isn’t it because Governor de Bobadilla, God rest his soul, had lawfully banned the Admiral from landing on Hispaniola, and, isn’t it true, that there was not the tiniest indication that a storm ‘of great magnitude’ was approaching! Is all of this not true from your own testimony, Captain Carvajal?”

Alonzo could give no answer that would expunge the court’s record of the Inquisitor’s statement. The courtroom filled with the sound of whispers and quiet murmuring, then the Inquisitor asked, in a loud voice, “So I ask you, Captain, from where did the knowledge of such a storm come?”

Alonzo gave answer, pleased to finally be allowed to respond with facts, as opposed to inuendo. “As I tried to explain earlier, Excellency, it came from the local natives employed aboard Admiral Columbus’s ship. He employs them because they are more familiar with the waters and weather patterns in the area than we are.”

Almost before the echo of Alonzo’s voice had faded from the cavernous room the Inquisitor shot back at him, “And how is it these natives could have such knowledge, Captain?”

“I don’t know, sir.” Alonzo answered, adding, “it’s as I said before, they have local knowledge based on experience that we don’t have. I suppose the knowledge is passed down from generation to generation, as part of their culture.”

The inquisitor turned, grinning at the judge, as if he’d scored a great victory. He repeated, “Part of their culture indeed.” Then he turned back to Alonzo and asked, “Did you believe the warning that came to you from these natives?”

“Well, yes.”

“And yet, you left port in a ship you have described as being un-seaworthy.”

Alonzo sat silent, unsure whether the Inquisitor’s rhetoric required a response, but the judge glared down at him and said, “Answer, Captain!”

“Yes.” Alonzo responded, adding, “I was ordered to leave, in spite of the condition of my ship, by both Governor de Orvando and Governor de Bobadilla, who was in command of the fleet, and I obeyed those orders.”

“And now you would tarnish the reputation of the dead?” The inquisitor charged, referring to de Bobadilla’s death at sea. The remark was meant to further inflame the court against Alonzo. He asked then, “What would have happened if you had refused to obey, Captain, since your ship was not manifested in the fleet?”

Alonzo sat silent. The question suggested a scenario he’d not considered before, but now that he did, he saw no legal ramifications for refusing the order. He answered truthfully. “Nothing, I suppose.”

“And yet you left port. So, clearly, given the weather conditions that day, you had no reason to believe the warnings.”

“But I…”

The Inquisitor interrupted him. “These natives aboard Admiral Columbus’s ship, do you know them, do you know who they are? Have you ever met them, or seen them?”

“I have spent some time among them, yes.”

“Is not one of them the son of an important member of their tribe?”

“Yes.”

“And what is this tribe called?”

“They are Tainos.”

“A prince of some sort, is he not?” The Inquisitor informed the court. “With an entourage, I am told, all given by his father to Admiral Columbus, as guides?”

“Yes.”

“And what was that man’s name?”

“The boy,” Alonzo corrected. “He is just a boy. His name is Guacanagari.”

“Why would the king of the Tainos tribe send a boy as guide for Admiral Columbus?”

Alonzo was unsure, but he answered truthfully. “The king told the Admiral that the boy was very knowledgeable of the local waters and that he had a gift, that he had visions, insight.”

Seeming to ignore the answer, the Inquisitor asked, “Would you say that these natives are a religious people, Captain?”

Alonzo balked, seeing now where the inquisitor’s line of questioning was leading. He tried to think of an answer that would divert him into some other line, but it was, perhaps, too late for that.

“Answer the question, Captain!” The judge bellowed.

“Captain?” The inquisitor followed.

Alonzo looked out at the sea of faces that filled the courtroom, a virtual mob of high-strung emotion. Most present had suffered great losses in the terrible storm that took the Flota to the bottom of the sea , both personal and financial losses. In some cases, the loss was irrecoverable, being the life of a loved one. In other cases, financial recovery would require another lifetime. Beads of sweat formed on Alonzo’s forehead.

“I warn you, Captain!” The judge threatened, implying contempt.

“Yes,” Alonzo finally admitted. “I suppose you could say they are religious.”

The inquisitor grinned knowingly, then asked, “And do they share our belief in the One True God, and in our Savior, God’s son, Jesus Christ?” He turned, grinning, to the mob.

Alonzo looked down at his hands, white knuckled, gripping the rail, then, twitching nervously he answered in a suppressed tone, “No.”

“What was that, Captain?” The inquisitor asked. “I couldn’t quite hear you.” Alonzo looked up, glaring. “I said, NO!”

The trap was sprung.

“So they are Pagans,” the Inquisitor pointed out.

“Yes, I suppose they are.”

“And does their heathen religious practice include the use of ritual sorcery, magic?”

Again, Alonzo balked at the question. “Answer, Captain,” the judge ordered, calmer this time, now that he could see the case was made.

“Your Excellency,” Alonzo pleaded, “I am no expert on religion, especially Pagan religions. I’m but a simple sea captain and accountant.”

The inquisitor turned to face him. Drawing very close, he said, “But you know the answer to this question. Tell the court what you know, what you’ve witnessed.”

Alonzo closed his eyes and sighed. In his mind he could picture the Taino entourage aboard Columbus’ flag ship, the Mariagalante. He remembered witnessing their rituals and incantations on several occasions. He answered with the only truth he knew, what he had witnessed with his own eyes. “Yes, they use magic and ritual sorcery.”

“Thank you Captain,” the Inquisitor said, graciously, before going on, “And this guide Admiral Columbus was given, this son of great importance to the tribe, is he not the son of the tribe’s chief sorcerer, their high priest, in effect?”

All eyes in the courtroom were wide with anticipation. Unable to look at them, Alonzo lowered his head and answered the question in the only honest way he could. “Yes.”

The inquisitor was gleeful when he asked the next question. “When this guide, son of the tribal sorcerer, informed Admiral Columbus of an approaching storm, a tempest you described in your deposition as ‘the most terrible storm you have ever experienced.’ A storm that, your words, ‘seemed to have a demonic intelligence’. Did he not have a specific name for such a storm?”

Alonzo simply nodded in answer.

“Is that a ‘yes,’ Captain?”

“Yes,” Alonzo answered impatiently.

“And what did he call this ‘demonic’ storm, as you described it?”

For the third time Alonzo balked at the question. He sat quietly defeated, shaking his head.

“Captain!” The judge reminded him.

“He called this type of storm, ‘Hurucan’.”

“And what does that mean in our language?”

“It is the name of one of their gods, the god of storms and lightening.”

With a flourish of his robes, as if preparing for the estocada, the final thrust, the Inquisitor turned to face the judge and said, with an air of great satisfaction, “So, Your Honor, I submit to this court that Christopher Columbus, by the use of sorcery, ordered his guide, one Guacanagari, son of the tribe’s Pagan high priest, a witch in fact, to conjure this storm from a Pagan god known by him as Hurucan, and this in retribution against his hated enemy, Governor de Bobadilla, may God rest his soul.” The inquisitor turned to face Alonzo then. His eyes were filled with a lust for blood and he added to the charge, “And, by circumstance, also against the king of Spain.” At this, the courtroom erupted into loud shouts calling for Columbus to be arrested and hung.

Oh Sacred Skull

[image error]Herod’s Palace, Jerusalem, The Year 30 AD:

Though he was not numbered among the guests, Rephan was present on the night that Salome danced. It isn’t as if he requires an invitation. Rephan goes where he pleases, when he pleases. He is like a cold draft that enters through a crack in the door, or a gap in the wall. He doesn’t require food or drink to be prepared for him, or a place at the table. He can move unseen through the celebration, focusing his presence in a cold dark corner, to quietly watch the proceedings, or, if it suits him, he can watch from the midst of the fire. He could, as easily, occupy one of the many guests, or all of them at once if he chose, but it was Herod’s birthday and it was Herod he’d come to observe. Unknown to the host, Rephan had already arranged the night’s entertainment. There was nothing more to do but relax and watch the evening unfold.

Herodias sat in her place at the center of the women’s table. She smiled alluringly at Herod, who sat, centered, at the men’s table twelve feet away. The two long tables faced each other, enclosing a wide aisle between them where the entertainers would perform. When she caught his eye, Herodias lifted her goblet in celebration, and drank to his good health. There was no great effort required on her part to encourage Herod to drink more than he should. He could easily do that on his own. Nor was much effort required of her to suggest to Herod that he should ask Salome, the beautiful, young daughter of his half-brother Phillip, to dance for him and for his guests. Herod’s lust for his niece was obvious and had all but consumed him since his marriage to her mother. Of course, his marriage was as illegitimate as his lust, but Herod had little concern for the opinions of the people.

Those, opinions, however, were more to the point of Rephan’s little game of chess on this night. It had been a simple matter for him to stir a psychotic lust for vengeance in Herodias’ heart, a heart well prepared for the suggestion. Her hatred for the Prophet, John, the one they call, The Baptist, was easily manipulated. Rephan had only to whisper in her ear, “How dare the Baptist challenge your marriage that way, and in public.”

Herodias raged among her ladies that day, then she raged all through the palace, until finally, she complained to Herod when he visited her bed. “…And publicly,” she whined in conclusion. Genuine tears dripped onto Herod’s bare chest. “You must do something, Antipas,” she insisted. “You must have him executed for his vile accusations.”

I cannot have the man executed, my love. He is a prophet,” Herod reneged, adding, “and famous among the people. Besides, the man speaks from God. Everyone says so. Perhaps we should have a little fear.”

Herodias raised up on her elbows, exposing her round, pendulous breasts, knowing the power of persuasion they held over him. She looked down at him with sad eyes and pouty lips. “But Antipas,” she began, “the leaders of the people oppose him. He insulted your wife, publicly. You’re the king! Surely you can have him arrested!” She rolled onto her back in frustration. “I don’t think I can find pleasure with you, until you do.”

Herod was only a little concerned by John’s public accusations, but privately, he was deeply disturbed by his relentless fear of the prophet’s influence among the people and his powerful influence with God. In Herod’s mind there was much at stake either way, but his desire for Herodias at this moment was far to strong for him to ignore. He gave all these concerns a moment of thought, lying quietly next to her, feeling her warmth on his skin.

Standing nearby in that moment, invisible in their limited spectrum of light, it required little energy for Rephan to move things along. Herod raised up on his elbow and turned toward her. He placed his hand on her bare stomach and felt her respond to his touch. “Very well,” he said. “I will see to his arrest in the morning, my love. Now come, give me pleasure.”

The prophet John’s spiritual power was of much greater interest to Rephan than Herod’s pleasure. He could use that kind of power to his own advantage, if he could find a way to manipulate it. He’d tried before and failed, managing only to prod the prophet into questioning the Lord Jesus’ motives, but both men were powerfully protected from his influence, by angelic forces that were much too strong for Rephan to overcome. So he was left to find other methods and, to his good fortune, he found Herod’s easily manipulated lust of the flesh and Herodias’ lust for vengeance. Just the sort of weakness that would make his work easy.

On this night he would see the culmination of his efforts. When the wine had flowed in adequate volume, he whispered to Herod, “It’s your birthday, surely Salome would not deny you her beauty. Surly she will dance if you ask.”

At the same moment, in the same whispering voice, he spoke to Herodias, commanding her, “Bring me the head of John the Baptist.”

 

Yo-Ho, Yo-Ho, a Pirate’s Life For Me

[image error]I recently finished playing “Uncharted 4” on my new PlayStation 4, (thanks again, Noah). A really fun and exciting game. The story-line was about Nathan Drake’s desperate search for the $400,000,000.00 treasure of the pirate, Henry Avery, thought to have been the richest pirate of the Golden Age. To some, Avery is known as, “the pirate who kept his loot,” a rare behavior among pirates both then and now.

Henry Avery was born on 20 August, in 1659. He was active as a pirate for only two years in the 1690s before he retired with the title, “King of Pirates.” He gained the title by the good fortune of one, bold strike against a 25 ship convoy of the Grand Mughul Empire, who were making their annual voyage to Mecca for the Muslim Hajj.  Unfortunately for Avery, he didn’t live very long to enjoy his wealth and died, mysteriously, in the late 1690s, perhaps in 1699.[image error]

In that same year, the characters in my novel, “Triangle: A Memoir of Black Caesar,” were struggling to survive in the crucible of the Colonial Caribbean, surrounded by royal intrigue and the merciless power, of corporate greed, living a life of lawless freedom in the colonial Caribbean. “Triangle…” is a story of treachery, treasure and triumph in the golden age of pirates, slaves, royal monopolies and brutal competition for a prize known to them all as “The New World.”

“Yo-Ho, Yo-Ho, a pirates life for me…” NOT!