One day in the frozen North, a tribe of Mammoth hunters went for a walk...and ended up in Texas. They took their time, just "moseying" along as true Texians do. Life moved no faster than your two feet carried you 12,000 years ago. The tribe grew and dwindled, surging with births and marriages then shrinking as wild beasts and other tribes whittled away at them. The first Texians strode over the vast plains of North America with club and flint-tipped spear, moving to the flowing rhythms of Nature, following the Mastodon and the Bison as they gathered what they needed from the continental cornucopia.
Leaving the bones of two or three generations mulching the Mammoth trails, these First Ones finally ceased their wanderings at their first glimpse of a great stone glistening in the morning sun like a pile of fiery diamonds. Something about the place whispered to them. Their destiny lay here. So they made permanent camp at its base. The long walk over, they sunk down roots and created a new civilization in this promised land.
Texas provided all their needs. Mastodon and Bison kept them in meat for weeks at a time; wild grape vineyards and beehives gave life sweetness and the heady sting of wine; berries, plums, peaches and other fruits now long extinct hung ripe and pregnant with nectar in the summer haze. Like the cyclopes of Homer, they "never lifted their hands to plant or plow but relied on the immortal gods. Wheat, barley, and vines with their richly clustered grapes, grow there without plowing or sowing, and rain from the heavens makes them flourish." The great birds of those days made the caves around its summit a rookery and birthed the legends of the Thunderbird. The creeks glittered with gold nuggets, easy to pick up and take home to fashion into wondrous jewelry. They carved a great tunnel beneath their Guardian and the walls ran thick with golden veins. Life in the shadow of this mountainous alchemy of amethyst, beryl, gold, silver, topaz and quartz was a dream of peace among a menagerie of mythic beasts.
Man was closer to the gods in those days before technology cut us off from the heavens. When the granite seemed to pour molten silver down her sides in the moonlight, spirits rippled along the summit's rim in cold flashes of fire breathing dreams upon them. Some of these dreams would be channeled eons later by other tribes when they took their vision quests upon the summit. These spiritual radio transmissions to the Tonkawa, Apache and Comanche were not written down and only a handful made it to the ears of Texas Rangers. The one tale most often told was a Romeo and Juliet style romance that brought destruction down upon the first Texians. It is a romance wrapped in a funerary shroud of blue and ivory...
It came to pass that a young warrior rode further afield than any of his people ever had. He and the mastodon he bestrode explored the land for weeks beyond the limits of his tribal hunting grounds until one fateful day he heard a distant dull roaring beating an eternal tattoo. It called to him and he followed the drums. The drums resolved into white foam and green waves hammering their eternal assault on a lonesome beach. It was the first time he ever beheld such a large body of water and he had no concept of what an ocean even was. Imagine the mind of a baby beholding the ocean for the first time, gobsmacked in inexpressible wonder. His mind couched in submission, lying mute before the enormity roaring before him in awful majesty. But as he scanned the rippling horizon he suddenly glimpsed a dark speck along the beach. He steered the furry pachyderm that direction. The dark dot resolved into a sailing craft as they thudded closer, though he had no idea what a boat actually was.
The vessel had something of the look of the ships Greeks later sailed in their argosies upon the wine dark sea. It lay wrecked alongside prehistoric flotsam and jetsam - titanic sea shells and the dragon teeth of carnivores lurking beneath the waves. The Mastadon grunted and poked at the wreck with his trunk a bit before allowing the young warrior to descend. As he walked about the vessel, he imagined it had something to do with floating since it was on a beach but had no how it worked beyond that. His traveling companion nosed about some more, turned over a broken board and suddenly erupted into a hoot of warning. The youth peered into the hull and froze in wonder. There lay the most beautiful sight his eyes ever beheld: a brown-skinned girl sleeping upon a pillow of her lustrous dark hair, wrapped in a robe of blue and white, with a face more beautiful than sunset burning the rim of the sea before a storm. Everything about her sang to unknown chambers of his heart and unlocked something within him. She couldn't be dead. He leaped into the boat and swept her soft body up into his arms. She still breathed - but barely. He dragged her free of the wreck and frantically tried to waken this sleeping dream into a reality. Groggy eyes gradually opened and focused on the young warrior. She cried out in shock, beating wildly at his chest, gauging, punching and kicking at him. He vainly tried to make her understand that he meant her no harm. Finally he released her and stepped back with his hands raised.
"Calm yourself, Calm yourself! I am not trying to harm you. I found you in that...thing and was trying to awaken you. I thought you had passed over." She glared wildly at him but she had stopped backing away. The tone of his voice was kind and she was also clear headed enough now to translate his body language. As she calmed down she also realized how handsome he was. The first Texians were giants and he was no exception. Nearly seven feet tall, molded of iron muscle rippling beneath his skin like a panther he stood before her in nothing but an animal skin loincloth. His skin was lighter than her's but still darkly bronzed by a life lived entirely outdoors. Her own flawless form was draped in a blue and white white dress reminiscent of later Minoan art and it did nothing to hide the lush curves of her voluptuous body. The two young innocents unabashedly admired each other as the surf's roar lost out to the roar of their beating hearts. That unspoken language that needs no translation glimmered behind their eyes. He reached out gently towards her at last to bridge the gap and clasp her trembling hand...
He brought her back to his people and they cared for her. The elders tried to piece together her story through signs and drawings she etched into the dust as she learned their language. Their two tongues were actually very similar, as society had not evolved enough to give birth to the many thousands of disparate languages in existence today. It took months but they finally pieced together something of her tale...
She was a princess, as all legends require, and her father ruled a mighty island empire floating far to the east on the great sea. "Our kingdom spans the size of a continent but my father ever hungers for more. He is the son of a god after all, or so it is believed upon pain of death. He forces his scientists to dream up great war machines you cannot possibly imagine to spread fire and sword through all the lands within sailing distance. An armada of purple sailed ships cut the wine dark sea, carrying his armies to pillage the less advanced tribes around us. But as I was raised in the purple, I had only vague ideas of the different conquests father's armies made, for he kept me close in the royal gardens of his mightiest estates. The great temple of the Moon lies within the palace grounds as well, built of solid silver and the ivory countless elephants contributed. As oldest daughter of the king, I was the high priestess of the Moon and of my nation. Here I offered the sacrifices of bulls and first harvests to the moon goddess, draped in robes of woven silver, singing such heavenly odes of worship that the moon trembled at their wondrous beauty and the dewdrops were her tears."
"Yet before that great destiny arrived, he needed a great queen to replace my long dead mother. So he planned to add his own daughter to his list of conquests." She shuddered in revulsion. "He wanted his First Born as his head wife to begin his legitimate dynasty through her, a pure-blood family undiluted by anything common or by the strange taint of foreign concubines. A god isn't bound by any foolish mortal law. Does not everyone know that he himself was the Son of the Sea, conceived after the thundering waves ravished his mother upon a silver moonlit beach? The heir that I would give him, according to his court scientists, would be two thirds immortal blood and the heir to the greatness that came with that." She trembled at the horror of it all.
And so our heroine fled the twisted passion of her sire, abandoning all she'd every known, launching out alone over the world's rim. Bribes and favors only a princess could manage pressed into sweaty palms and she found herself soon enough alone on a ship, sailing the whale road west into the dying embers of the sun. Weeks passed over the endless billows under an endless sky with the only break in the monotony being the occasional sea serpent attack. But with her own skill and the strength of her protective goddess she managed to sail within a few hours of the coast of Texas - much further inland than it is today. All of Texas was once actually the floor of a midnight sea; receding over millennia and giving birth to new landscapes for life to burrow into as the eons rushed by. But before she managed to press her perfect feet into the sandy girdle of the unknown, a monstrous shadow launched itself upon her ship from beneath the waves. Great jaws smashed the hull like kindling and the wounded craft upended. The leviathan didn't much care for the taste of wood and left the broken boat to drift along with the tide, swimming away with many unwanted toothpicks stuck in its teeth. She managed to hold on the rocking ruins for days it seemed till she finally succumbed to exhaustion. She never felt the boat thrust into the Texas mainland, lulled to sleep by the never ending surf.
And so now she was adopted by the People of the Rock and, naturally, she fell madly in love with her handsome rescuer. He too loved this dark pearl of the sea. One evening he proposed to her as they watched the violet crown of evening descend over the horizon. She accepted and great jubilation erupted to the skies from that secret corner of Eden.
But before the lovers could become one, doom marched over the horizon and covered their romance in Shadow. It happened on a glorious spring morning, the kind that only Texas can shout forth in a celebration of Existence. It rained the night before and trickling runoff giggled over the golden creek beds, tiny neon yellow flowers outlined every rock and crevice, and the bare skull of the Rock pooled up little ponds of water upon the summit.
Tall grass, aloes and more of the neon yellow flowers fringed the ponds while the fields around the rock reputed into deep crimson, gold and white blooms. It was as if the entire land was the body of a titanic corpse and the rock was its skull, bedecked in funerary finery, copper skin streaked with red, gold and white war paint. It was the morning of the wedding.
Preparations for the sacred ceremony were being made when suddenly a great horn bellowed over the surrounding hills. Her father had hunted her for months and at long last tracked her here with the full might of his army behind him. The People of the Rock immediately leaped into action. Women and children fled into the hinterlands lead by the wisest of the elders while all the young men of fighting age with a few of the older battle scarred warriors as "generals" prepared to meet the foe the only way they knew how - with club, spear and arrow. But our heroine refused to leave with the other women and told her soon-to-be-husband, "I will stand forever by your side, for I am the reason that my father is here in the first place. Let us be married here and now, ere death sweeps us all away."
The People of the Rock took shelter at the top and within caves, launching their own arrows back at the glittering horde. They had less arrows to waste than the Sea People, so they took their time and made every single one count. But it didn't make a dint in that undulating creature that was the invading army. Deep within the recesses of the caverns under the Rock they had food stores and more weapons stacked up so they were not overly worried just yet. They settled in for the long haul and awaited the earth shaking charge of the invaders. Wave after wave charged up the smooth granite and crashed headlong into the arrows and lances of the First Free People of Texas. Bodies piled up till one couldn't even see the bottom of the Rock buried underneath the slain. From that pinnacle they held off the invaders for weeks. Our heroine stood alongside the men every moment, sending her own countrymen to choke on their blood in the dust.
These warriors were giants and their deeds of valor rivaled anything on the plains of Troy. They smote ruin upon the Sea People and nourished themselves upon the hearts and blood of their fallen enemy, stacking the bodies into towers that arose in grotesque pyramids of putrescence. Clouds of vultures wheeled endlessly over the rock blotting out the sun. But even heroes eventually must succumb to the inevitable. One by one the unit wore down to a mere handful. The youth and his bride were among them. The Sea King saw their diminished numbers and planned to launch a last assault upon these remaining few with the full force of his entire army. Our heroine saw the doom looming before them that last great day. "I can see in my mind all my new brothers in arms cut down like wheat before winnowing blades." She clutched her lover's hand and wept in rage for the pain she had brought them all. He held her close and whispered, "This is the will of the cruel gods but there is no fault in you. We must bow to our fate and hope to embrace once more in the afterlife."
The Bride plead to the Moon hanging above them in the gathering twilight, watching the Sea King's army prepare itself for the final assault the next morning. She sang one last song to her goddess as the sun died and the full moon rose huge and red - a blood moon - stretching against the bounds of heaven. She outstretched her arms, her body draped in her blue and white robe framed against the moon. She sang a song of submission and defiance, of love and death, of grief and joy. The Moon heard her and sobbed, sending falling stars ripping through the shroud of night. The wind sighed about them all and the Bride heard within her mind the whispering of the goddess - telling her what she must do.
Hours later, as both sides slumbered in the deep watches of the night, the full moon suddenly went black. The world plunged into a darkness beyond darkness and the few watchmen awake trembled in fear. Whispering to each other in terror they argued over whether they should stumble towards the King's tent and wake him. Just as they finally decided to disturb his slumber, a great burst of light roared to life at the center of their camp. It was the Sea King's royal tent. And it was ablaze. Etched against the flames they saw a woman's shadow spitting the bloated king upon a trident - the royal scepter of this son of the sea - as he screamed and struggled like a fish. The tent blazed around them and the silhouettes disappeared into the flames. The royal tent was now a funeral pyre. The moon's light came back, as if She'd gone out just long enough to let her priestess use the cover of darkness to sneak to her father's tent and give him a parting embrace.
Before her self-sacrifice, the Bride prayed to her goddess that the deity would save the life of her husband and the lives of his fellow warriors. The prayers were heard. As dawn arose the Sea King's soldiers charged the mountain in berserk rage at the loss of the king.
The Moon, still in the sky but fading fast, breathed on the last few of the Free People awaiting ghastly death, transforming their great forms into stone even as they felt the chill breeze kiss their skin. The Sea People broke their bronze blades upon granite pillars and choked on their thwarted vengeance. But now all they could do is return to camp in a daze of confusion and figure out what to do now that their king was dead.
The royal guards rooted about in the ashes of the king's tent for bones. They found what they could and packed them into a great urn to take back home for a royal funeral. Upon their retreat the ashes hoisted aloft upon the wings of the wind and spread far and wide about the land melding into the soil. The dead warriors of the Sea People were buried and became compost for wildflowers and trees. A year passed. The remnants of the Free People returned to the rock after months of wandering, hardship and battles with other tribes. When they returned home they found little evidence of the battle and took note of the many new pillars of stone that had mysteriously appeared. But they gave no more thought to these strange new outcroppings when they saw something that had never before been seen upon the earth. A vast field of blue and white flowers spread out beyond the rock, a perfumed ocean rippling in the warm sun, the scent so thick that a haze hung over the field like a bridal veil. None had seen these flowers before and none knew how so many had come to spring up there. Not till the shamans communed with the spirits did they learn of the final day of their beloved warriors and of the sacrifice of their adopted daughter. The spirits also whispered that the Moon gave one last blessing to her priestess - transforming her ashes into the seeds of a gorgeous new bloom taking on the sacred colors of her bridal gown. A symbol of one great woman's love, bravery and sacrifice to forever carpet the fields and valleys of Texas.
And so the centuries passed. The People of the Rock faded into history and were absorbed by other tribes. The Mastodon vanished and the buffalo were eventually driven to the very precipice of extinction. Other tribes made their home here and in their vision quests witnessed what happened all those thousands of years ago. The Rock became a place of reverence, a holy site, an eternal memorial to the bravery of those first Texians. And there the warrior and his brothers still stand, silent guardians of the Rock, vigilantly watching new invaders walking amidst the waves of blue and white.
Story, Enchanted Rock and wildflower images, copyright Ben Friberg 2018
Many thanks to Ryan Gronquist for his incredible Blood Moon Picture
Hours later, as both sides slumbered in the deep watches of the night, the full moon suddenly went black. The world plunged into a darkness beyond darkness and the few watchmen awake trembled in fear. Whispering to each other in terror they argued over whether they should stumble towards the King's tent and wake him. Just as they finally decided to disturb his slumber, a great burst of light roared to life at the center of their camp. It was the Sea King's royal tent. And it was ablaze. Etched against the flames they saw a woman's shadow spitting the bloated king upon a trident - the royal scepter of this son of the sea - as he screamed and struggled like a fish. The tent blazed around them and the silhouettes disappeared into the flames. The royal tent was now a funeral pyre. The moon's light came back, as if She'd gone out just long enough to let her priestess use the cover of darkness to sneak to her father's tent and give him a parting embrace.
Before her self-sacrifice, the Bride prayed to her goddess that the deity would save the life of her husband and the lives of his fellow warriors. The prayers were heard. As dawn arose the Sea King's soldiers charged the mountain in berserk rage at the loss of the king.
The royal guards rooted about in the ashes of the king's tent for bones. They found what they could and packed them into a great urn to take back home for a royal funeral. Upon their retreat the ashes hoisted aloft upon the wings of the wind and spread far and wide about the land melding into the soil. The dead warriors of the Sea People were buried and became compost for wildflowers and trees. A year passed. The remnants of the Free People returned to the rock after months of wandering, hardship and battles with other tribes. When they returned home they found little evidence of the battle and took note of the many new pillars of stone that had mysteriously appeared. But they gave no more thought to these strange new outcroppings when they saw something that had never before been seen upon the earth. A vast field of blue and white flowers spread out beyond the rock, a perfumed ocean rippling in the warm sun, the scent so thick that a haze hung over the field like a bridal veil. None had seen these flowers before and none knew how so many had come to spring up there. Not till the shamans communed with the spirits did they learn of the final day of their beloved warriors and of the sacrifice of their adopted daughter. The spirits also whispered that the Moon gave one last blessing to her priestess - transforming her ashes into the seeds of a gorgeous new bloom taking on the sacred colors of her bridal gown. A symbol of one great woman's love, bravery and sacrifice to forever carpet the fields and valleys of Texas.
Story, Enchanted Rock and wildflower images, copyright Ben Friberg 2018
Many thanks to Ryan Gronquist for his incredible Blood Moon Picture
