Ishtar’s Story

Ishtar sighed; she was cold and fed up. Rua’s droning voice had lost its fear over the last few days and Ishtar was longing for the warmth of her home and a bowl of her mother’s broth.
Sensing her student’s distraction the elderly Rua paused and hissed loudly in Ishtar’s direction. She knew the pressure on Ishtar was great but time was short and there was much to learn if the ceremony was to be a success.
Several minutes later Ishtar conquered her concentration and her tongue and was able to recite the ancient words in an acceptable form. Learning to pronounce the invocations correctly had required all her time and effort over the past week; both physical and mental. Their deeper meanings were lost to her; in time Rua would educate her new understudy.
Ishtar’s knees were numb; she had been kneeling since shortly after dawn. Pins and needles had set in quickly, followed by shooting pains up her thighs which had lasted until the numbness took hold and gave her some relief.
“You may leave now but be back here an hour before dawn,” Rua snapped at the exhausted child. Realising her harshness, she held Ishtar’s arm gently for a moment and said, “You’re doing well. Don’t worry; the Gods will help you when the time comes.”
Ishtar hurried home, her mind full of ancient verses and her empty belly. She had not eaten since the first streaks of dawn had interrupted the night sky. Rua had insisted that throughout the training she broke her fast with only dry bread and water. A full stomach was a distraction and bought on lethargy, according to the wise woman.
The vernal equinox ceremony was to take place in the sacred grove tomorrow at first light. The whole clan would be there to welcome The Great Mother and pray for her gift of hope and new life. A gift that was sorely needed; the clan had suffered during winter, starvation and fever had taken the oldest and youngest members of the small tribe. Ishtar’s baby sister had faded and quietened as the shadow of her soul passed into the care of Morrigan, goddess of death. Now as a crow spirit, she flew free over their settlement.
Her grandfather too had left their world; his toothless mouth had receded and his eyes sunk until he resembled the skeleton he was soon to become. Shortly before he died he had called Ishtar to him and grasping her hand with a firm grip he had stared deep into her eyes.
“I have something for you my precious star. Be true to your namesake and safeguard the honour of the tribe. You are our future.”
As the tears had slid down Ishtar’s solemn face, he pushed a smooth, grey stone into her tiny, cold hand.
“Keep this with you always, it is the rock from which our family was spawned and it must be guarded with your life until it is your turn to pass it to the youngest family member.”
“But how will I know when it’s the right time?” she had stuttered through her sorrow.
“You will know as I know now. I will be with you always as will the ancient ones who have been with me always,” he paused, breathing heavily, “Now, return to your mother and tell her I wish to speak to her.”
Ishtar had placed the priceless stone carefully into her leather pouch and turned to leave, feeling the stone grow heavier as she perceived the responsibility of holding it.
Although she had lived only eight summers she understood that her grandfather was dying and her self control was no match for her grief. The man who had taught her so much, who had held her hand when the nightmares came and who had taught her the names of all the stars was leaving her and there was nothing she could do.
Throwing herself onto his frail body she had clung to him; her tears and sobs shaking her body until finally exhaustion had left her limp in his arms. He had sung to her, stroking her head as gently as he could with his gnarled, work toughened hands.
She had woken hours later, alone in her hut. She knew he had gone before she heard the chanting.
Her mother Graine was singing as she stirred a large pot of steaming soup. Ishtar smiled; it had been a while since song had visited their home. The death of Graine’s second daughter had affected her deeply, following so closely after the death of her father.
Graine was proud of her daughter, leading the ceremony was a duty not usually required of one so young. Only the premature death of the other pre-pubescent girls in their dwindling clan had forced the honour on Ishtar.
“Did the practise go well today? Was Rua satisfied with your progress?” Graine asked anxiously as she poured the ever thinner herb broth into a wooden bowl.
Ishtar described the endless chanting and Rua’s harsh words between gulps of broth, careful not to waste any of the liquid which was beginning to penetrate her icy bones and relax her tense muscles.
“Its time to rest, Ishtar; lie down and I’ll sing of your success in gaining the favour of the Great Mother.”
Ishtar crawled onto the straw matt, pulled the bear fur over her head and listened to Graine’s soothing voice. Sleep took her so quickly that she wasn’t aware of it until the dreams came.
Graine watched anxiously as her only child slept. Rua had sworn the Fly Agaric potion would be safe despite Ishtar’s slight frame, but she was fearful. Sitting by her daughter’s side all night, occasionally touching her sweat beaded forehead, Graine prepared the pouches of seeds to be blessed during the ceremony.
Ishtar’s dreams were vivid yet muddled; colours and shapes pixelated across her fluttering eyelids, voices fought with each other as they tried to whisper in her ears. Yet, she was not afraid; her grandfather sat beside her, their hands entwined as the spirits danced in her mind.
Graine’s husband Bith returned shortly before light stretched its fingers across their village, a new staff in his hand. He was ready for the ceremony; his face freshly painted yellow, pink and green as befitted the time of year.
They neither kissed nor touched as tradition taught; the time for this would come after the ceremony and feasting. Their eyes locked, Bith’s full of concern. Graine smiled and nodded reassuringly in reply.
Unconsciously she put a hand to her belly. Hope wriggled inside.
It was time to wake Ishtar.
The family walked to the sacred grove, home of the goddess Nemetona. As they walked, other members of the clan joined them, until all four family groups had taken their places amongst the trees. At its centre grew an alder tree and around the tree grew gorse bushes, symbols of fertility.
The men banged their new staffs rhythmically on the ground as they chanted slowly in a hypnotising baritone to wake the sleeping spring. The women keened, lamenting and honouring the death of winter.
Ishtar had not spoken since they had wakened her; a trance-like state had transformed her child’s face into that of a young woman. Head erect and eyes wide, she walked confidently to her destiny.
Rua needlessly beckoned Ishtar to her place in the centre of the circle and began the ceremonial words.
“To the Great Mother, maiden of the spring, we call upon your wisdom and request your energy, love and compassion. We have come to honour your power, nature, the balance of warrior and inner spirit, and give thanks for this season of renewal and rebirth.”
The tribe responded with the customary chants which echoed Rua’s to give them strength and power.
Ishtar took the sacred birch wand from Rua’s outstretched hand and walked to the far northern part of the circle, the place where the sun never reached. She tapped on the ground three times. Her mouth was not her own, the words came from somewhere inside where the voices of the ancestors swirled. Her heart pounded and she wondered disconnectedly how she could speak when her mouth felt full of ash.
“Watchers of the North, we call upon your wisdom and power to witness this celebration of divine balance.”
Repeating the tapping three times, Ishtar moved to each cardinal point and voiced the words that Rua had taught her. Her actions and words created a circle bordered by the clan and opened a doorway between the worlds.
She felt the clan’s eyes upon her and shivered involuntarily even as sweat began to form on her forehead. She returned sedately to a chanting Rua at the centre of the ring.
Looking solemn, Ishtar held out a copper bowl while Rua blessed it, waving her rowan wand across it three times.
“By the power of the four elements, I consecrate this vessel in the name of the Great Mother.”
One by one, the fertile women of the tribe walked to Ishtar and placed pouches filled with seeds and dried berries in the bowl. The men followed, placing spear heads and leather animal traps on top.
Graine’s eyes met Rua’s and she held them for what felt like eternity.
“From death, life will come,” the tribe chanted steadily, as they had done since time began.
“Great Mother, bless these seeds and ensure the continuation of your children. Bless these weapons to feed and protect your children. Accept our offerings as we show the depth of our honour for you.”
Rua turned to Ishtar; this was the most sacred and important part of the ceremony and Rua prayed that Ishtar would not fail.
“Eostre, Great Goddess, be with me now,” Ishtar began in a whisper, “fair one, who brings life and renewal; bless our clan with the gift of new life.”
As she spoke, her voice became stronger.
“May the strength of the old bring life to the new,” she continued the long incantation in a steady, haunting tone.
The men in the circle drummed steadily throughout the ceremony and the clan answered each invocation with the appropriate solemn response.
Ishtar found her spirit was detached from her body. From her new vantage point above the group she could see herself, Rua and the clan standing in the grove. She could hear the drums and the rhythm of her own speech in a distant part of her mind, yet she wasn’t afraid.
“Awake, all creatures and seeds, herald the spring. The winter is over, look only to the future,” her voice didn’t falter.
As if in a dream, Ishtar became aware that her spirit was standing beside her mother. Graine looked serene and enveloping her body was an aura of pulsing blue light. As Ishtar reached out to touch the magic she was instantly transported to the side of her aunt, who was also surrounded by glowing light, steady and more subtle than her mother’s aura and the colour of a mid summer sky.
As Ishtar began to wonder if she was dreaming and really still snuggled under the bear skin, she felt herself drawn forward and propelled into her body with a sharp jolt. Once more she could see only through her physical eyes; the doorway was closed and the ceremony was over.
Rua gave thanks to the tribe for their efforts to make the ceremony a success and thanked Ishtar for completing her task.
“I also have something else to say. A message from the Goddess, bought to us by Ishtar.”
Ishtar felt herself freeze as an excited murmur bubbled through the group. She wondered what message was, or if she had forgotten something.
Rua went on once the tribe had quietened, “we have been blessed; there is new life growing amongst us. Give thanks to the Goddess as we celebrate.”
Ishtar thought she had worked it out just as her body folded, like a limp napkin, to the ground.
When she opened her eyes moments later, the first thing she saw was her mother and the first thing she felt was her mother’s hand, tightly holding her own. Rua and the rest of her family stood close by protectively.
“Welcome back,” Graine’s creased brow relaxed and she smiled, “I was so worried, Rua said you’d be well but …”
Her voice tailed off as she drew Ishtar into her arms. Ishtar buried her face in Graine’s hair and smiled. Now she understood the message; there were three babies growing in two women. Her aunt who had the weaker aura must be carrying one child and her mother with the much darker, stronger aura had to be carrying twins; a double blessing for her family and their clan.
Rua gently pulled Graine to one side and knelt down close to Ishtar’s head. She examined her eyes, lifting the lids and peering deep inside, as if seeking another message. She put a hand on her brow and bent close to her ear.
“Say nothing of what you know; there are no guarantees.”
Ishtar nodded solemnly, promising silence with a look.
Later, in the darkness, the clan ate well for the first time in many months. A steaming cauldron of rabbit stew had been gently simmering most of the day. The women had baked bread sweetened with honey and sprinkled with the few seeds that could be spared from their meagre store, for the occasion.
The sound of drums and singing out matched the roar of the fire, as it burned orange-red-black, throughout the night in the centre of the settlement. Fragrant wood smoked and spit fireworks into the sky as the clan danced themselves into a frenzy of worship and euphoria.
Ishtar fell into a deep sleep by the fire after she had eaten her fill, one hand holding the pouch with the ancestors’ stone within. Bith lifted her gently and carried her into their hut, with Graine hurrying behind.
Once they were sure Ishtar was settled comfortably under her bear skin, Graine and Blith retired to their own sleeping straw and furs.
“I wonder who has the new life?” mused Blith as Graine snuggled in beside him.
“I wonder,” said Graine slowly, smiling to herself as Blith began to explore her body in celebration.


A story for the spring Equinox from Liz.