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As the convoy cruised along, rowers rowing, Benda and Greppo the First King looked ahead off to the sea in the direction of Buorth. The Lost Direction was found again, thanks to an unlikely hero, Tob Gobble, and his reed flute.

A subtle silvery stream of water seemed to flow just beneath the surface of the vast ocean, and the prow of their ship clove to it. Neither man spoke, each filled with his own thoughts. Benda’s were of the tragic loss to Quatria which he knew in his heart was destined to come, and that he in his returning to Kremel had propelled that ruin into existence. Greppo’s was solely focused on the gains in wealth and majesty to himself, his kingdom and all of Kremel which were to surely come. He felt great pride too, for re-opening the way, the way of his ancestors – for he too traced his line of descent from Embatet, the magical son of Omouna, who had been expelled from the Far Blessed Lands. For each, then, it was a kind of sacred home-coming, though the meaning inverted one to the other.

As Benda stood in contemplation of his predicament, and what he ought to do, he thought he heard a small voice speak from nowhere. He turned around, but the decks were clear on his ship. He looked back to the next, and though he saw activity there, discerned no probable source of voice, none who had spoken to him, as if just near at hand – or within?

“Papa!” he heard the voice now clearly ringing, as of a bell in his heart. And he knew it at once, as though his own. “Sol?” he said aloud, and turned around again in wonder. No one was there still, but as the chained-together ships swayed and lumbered under oar, he saw a ways off on the deck of the third ship the sable golek Machef, along with his wife Lualla, and his young son Sol.

“We are with you,” the voice of Machef spoke now in his heart. “You need suffer no more in loneliness.”

On the channels of light which connected them, the golek mindspeaker acted as a lightwell, a kind of transceiver. It happened with some regularity that non-mindspeaker listeners who often received from mindspeakers would have these internal ports temporarily or permanently opened on account of the purity and intensity of this manner of communication. And they would learn to feed back into the lightways, replying in like manner. This had not yet happened between Benda and Machef naturally, but it was on the verge of becoming. Machef simply pushed the door open the rest of the way, stepped back, and acted as bridge and repeater to connect to Lualla and Sol.

Sol, a child, took to it naturally, not knowing that among his people, mindspeaking had retreated to being only the province of beasts, and magicians, and madmen. Lualla, however, this being her first such experience, was much more fearful and tentative. She could listen, but she could not speak thus. Benda, whose heart was near to overflowing, however spoke for all of them, and he did in not words, but brilliant pictures.

He sent them along the lightways the fullness of his experience since he had left them that day outside Cananxus village for what should have been a three hour fishing tour. It had been a day like any other, but which lead him by the hand of fate instead to a storm-at-sea, and then to those far shores. He showed them the fear he felt and then all the joy and happiness he’d found in the welcome of the peoples of Quatria. He showed them how he had given it all up to return to the two of them, his family – the one true source of all joy, without which he knew, no matter how rich the country, or beautiful the people, he would surely languish and die.

Lualla wept, and Sol listened and watched in the shared chambers of their hearts in rapturous wonder.

Benda showed them the island of Ovarion, which had been promised to him before his departure by the High Augur, a bright shining green and white jewel in the sea to the west of Quatria, on the cusp of the Houses of Song and Silence. And he showed them the strong but humble house he vowed to build them there, once things had been put to rights. It was a dream of his, an inward vision which he had always dwelt on but had not yet named. But the name welled up spontaneously in his heart, calling itself in the Quatrian tongue, Tantathawe. He shared it with them as his vow, a testament, a promise. Despite their fear, and the losses they had and would still have to endure, all would be made whole again at a higher level in Tantathawe.

Just then, the sky darkened, and out of it stooped the eagle Murta, landing heavily on deck of the first ship, to report to Greppo. Machef let the canals of light connecting himself and the others to Benda go dark and silent once more.

“The winds are upon us, my lord. We have reached Tetharys.”

It was then the storms began in earnest.

On the fifth day, three stout ships set sail from the Bay of the Kremel. In the first ship embarked Consciolus Greppo, who claimed this position by right as First King of Kremel. With him were certain of his retainers and Benda, who it was believed was the Keyholder of the Gate of Song and the way back to Quatria. In the following ship were Murta and Martis Ovnis, the Third and Fourth Kings and their retainers. And in the third ship were Mergolech, the Second King, and Eradus, the Fifth, and their retainers. With them traveled Benda’s wife Lualla and Sol – as proteges of Mergolech – along with the sable golek Machef, and none other than Tob Gobble.

Following what Greppo said were instructions encoded in the Scroll of Omouna, they went under sail three days to the east, until they were in deep ocean, and far from any sight of land. Thick chains held fast the ships in a column, so that they would not be separated, and they traveled without incident until they reached the doldrums where no winds blew.

Once there, Greppo ordered the sails furled, and the rowers to their stations. Each ship held forty rowers, hardy men-at-arms, who upon landing on those far shores would form their advance guard as the invaders established a beachhead on one of the outer islands of Quatria below the Bay of Erasure. Mergolech, however, as the King of the Fishers, was then called upon as he was the only one among them who was thought to know which way was Buorthus, the Lost Direction. According to the legends of his people, it was an ancient fifth direction which was neither north nor south, east nor west, nor any combination of them. Greppo signaled from the lead ship, and awaited Mergolech’s reply as to what direction they should row in.

Benda meanwhile searched within his heart, and realized he truly did not know the way. A storm-at-sea had carried him there and back. He was filled with fear and sorrow, however, that the way would be discovered, and that because of him, unarmed and peaceful Quatria would surely fall to this force of only a little over a hundred men-at-arms.

Murta, as eagle, leapt into the air and circled high above them, looking for clues to the Lost Direction.

Tob Gobble, who had been uncharacteristically silent nearly the whole trip, except to run and play below decks with young Sol, said to Mergolech, “Sire, the Great River, upon which I traveled here, is said to connect all the Wide Lands and the Thousand Seas. Would that we could find its current even here, surely it would take us to Tetharys and beyond.”

“Tell me then the way, gentle Tob,” said Mergolech kindly. “For I see it not. To me, it remains but a legend.”

“Better then, perhaps,” said Eradus behind him, “that it remain that way. Turn us back, and this future can still be averted.”

Tob, meanwhile, had produced from his sack, the reed flute upon which he had often played before, but which had been silent since leaving the Citadel. His heart was heavy too, but he put it to his lips, and he played. Unlike his normal feisty and painfully out of tune airs, he blew for them then a sad song, sweet and sorrowful. It was a simple tune of only a few notes repeating in a piteous plaintive pattern. Though not loudly played, the sound of it wafted amongst the three ships, so that all could hear. And Murta as eagle descended upon hearing it from the upper airs, landed on the second ship, and became again a man. “I have seen the way,” he said, shouting across the decks so the others could hear him.

“As have I,” said Mergolech loudly, and he pointed in a direction which was – to all of their surprise – neither north nor south, east, nor west, nor any combination of them, but was something wholly… other. They all saw it then, and understood, that though normally it lay hidden to their eyes, it was always close at hand. They wondered how they had never seen it before.

Tob stopped playing, and put away his flute. Greppo ordered the rowers to turn about in all three ships, and manuevering with dexterity, they did so. As they came to, a thin stream, as of a silver flowing filament, revealed itself just below the water’s surface, and they struck to this course, onward to Tetharys and the Gate of Song.

Cantabria has archaeological sites from the Upper Paleolithic period, although the first signs of human occupation date from the Lower Paleolithic. The most significant site for cave paintings is that in the cave of Altamira, dating from about 37,000 BC[8] and declared, along with nine other Cantabrian caves, as World Heritage Sites by UNESCO. […]

There is a heavy presence of fabulous beings of giant proportions and Cyclopean features (the ojáncanos), fantastic animals (culebres, caballucos del diablu (lit. horses of the devil, damselflies), ramidrejus, etc.), færies (anjanas, ijanas of Aras), duendes (nuberos, ventolines, trentis, trasgus, trastolillos, musgosu, tentiruju), anthropomorphic characters (the sirenuca (little mermaid), the fish-man, the cuegle, the wife-bear of Andara, the guajona), etc.

Source: Cantabria – Wikipedia

Sentimental ballads had their origins in the early Tin Pan Alley music industry of the later 19th century.[5] Initially known as “tear-jerkers” or “drawing-room ballads”, they were generally sentimental, narrative, strophic songs published separately or as part of an opera, descendants perhaps of broadside ballads. As new genres of music began to emerge in the early 20th century, their popularity faded, but the association with sentimentality led to the term ballad being used for a slow love song from the 1950s onwards.[6]

Source: Sentimental ballad – Wikipedia

In 1498, Annius of Viterbo (an official of Pope Alexander VI) claimed to have discovered lost books of Berossus. These were in fact an elaborate forgery. However, they greatly[12] influenced Renaissance ways of thinking about population and migration, because Annius provided a list of kings from Japhet onwards, filling a historical gap following the Biblical account of the Flood. Annius also introduced characters from classical sources into the biblical framework, publishing his account as Commentaria super opera diversorum auctorum de antiquitatibus loquentium (Commentaries on the Works of Various Authors Discussing Antiquity). One consequence was sophisticated theories about Celtic races with Druid priests in Western Europe.[13]

Source: Berossus – Wikipedia

Annius of Viterbo (Latin: Joannes Annius Viterb(i)ensis; c. 1432 – 13 November 1502) was an Italian Dominican friar, scholar, and historian, born Giovanni Nanni (Nenni) in Viterbo. He is now remembered for his fabrications. […]

In perhaps his most elaborate pseudo-archeological charade, in the autumn of 1493 he undertook a well-publicized dig at Viterbo, during which marble statues of some of the most dramatic of the mythical figures associated with the city’s legendarium appeared to be unearthed; they had all been “salted” [ed., deposited] in the site beforehand.[3] […]

He was notorious for his text depicting the history and topography of ancient Rome from the “most ancient” authors. His Auctores vetustissimi printed at Rome, 1498, was an anthology of seventeen purportedly classical texts, all of which he had written himself, with which he embarks in the gigantic attempt to write a universal history of the post-diluvian West civilization, where the Etruscan people and the town of Viterbo/Etruria, custodian of the original knowledge of divine nature, takes on the leading role in the march of Man towards the future. Annio’s map of Rome as founded by Romulus is a loose interpretation of one of his own forgeries. It prominently features Vicus Tuscus, the home of the Etruscans, whom Annio and his fellow Viterbans claimed as their ancestors. Part of the forgeries were motivated by a desire to prove that Viterbo was the site of the Etruscan Fanum Voltumnae. […]

The content was falsely attributed to Berosus, Fabius Pictor, Cato, Manetho and others.

Source: Annio da Viterbo – Wikipedia

Within Lake Bolsena, the Bisentina island (commune of Capodimonte) is also regarded as a sacred isle of the Etruscans, possible site for the Fanum, and gate to the underground world of Agharti. A sanctuary located on an island not situated at the sea would have been accessible to priests and kings of the 12 cities (with their closest entourages), their protection being granted during the religious and political meetings by a handful of armed men. An Italian television program Voyager (1 October 2003) supported this hypothesis, suggesting for the Etruscans a parallelism to the Incas populations, who had also chosen one of Lake Titicaca’s islands as their omphalos.

Indeed, not only the Incas but, for the same reasons, various peoples have decided to erect their most eminent sanctuary on sacred islands: the Egyptians at Philae; the Greeks at Delos; the Germans at Helgoland in the North Sea and on the island of the goddess Nerthus, in the Baltic; the Celts at Gavrinis, near to the Breton coast in France, at Iona in Scotland, etc. This hypothesis finds a type of confirmation in the poem the Theogony, by the Greek oral poet Hesiod (8th-7th century BC) : “They ruled over the famous Tyrenians, very far off in a recess of the holy islands”.

Source: Fanum Voltumnae – Wikipedia

The Fanum Voltumnae (‘shrine of Voltumna’) was the chief sanctuary of the Etruscans; fanum means a sacred place, a much broader notion than a single temple.[1] Numerous sources refer to a league of the “Twelve Peoples” (lucumonies) of Etruria, formed for religious purposes but evidently having some political functions. The Etruscan league of twelve city-states met annually at the Fanum, located in a place chosen as omphalos (sacred navel), the geographical and spiritual centre of the whole Etruscan nation. Each spring political and religious leaders from the cities would meet to discuss military campaigns and civic affairs and pray to their common gods. Chief amongst these was Voltumna (or Veltha), possibly state god of the Etruria.

Roman historian Titus Livius mentioned the Fanum Voltumnae five times in his works[2] and indicated “…apud Volsinios…” as the place where the shrine was located. Modern historians have been looking for the Fanum since at least the 15th century but the exact location of the shrine is still unknown

Source: Fanum Voltumnae – Wikipedia

In Etruscan mythology, Voltumna or Veltha[1] was the chthonic (relating to or inhabiting the underworld)[2] deity, who became[3] the supreme god of the Etruscan pantheon, the deus Etruriae princeps, according to Varro.[4] Voltumna’s cult was centered in Volsini (modern-day Orvieto) a polis of the Etruscan Civilization of central Italy.

The bond of the twelve Etruscan populi was renewed annually at the sacred grove of Fanum Voltumnae, the sanctuary of Voltumnus sited near Volsinii (present day Bolsena), which was mentioned by Livy.[5] At the Fanum Voltumnae ludi were held, the precise nature of which, whether athletic or artistic, is unknown.

Source: Voltumna – Wikipedia

John Frederick Rowbotham (born April 18, 1854 in Bradford , † October 20, 1925 in Sutton Cheney , County Leicestershire ) was a British clergyman, composer and music historian .

Life

Rowbotham was born the son of a pastor from Edinburgh . After attending school in Rossall (County Lancashire ) and the Academy of Edinburgh, he studied at the University of Oxford classical philology and theology . He graduated with honors. He then studied music in Oxford, Berlin – where he attended the Stern Conservatory for three years – Paris , Dresden and Vienna.

He then entered the service of the Church of England . From 1892 Rowbotham was vicar in Ratley , from 1895 in Huntly . From 1896 he was chaplain in Budapest . The following year, he returned to England to become Vicar in Abbotsley , before moving to Sutton Cheney in 1916, where he spent the rest of his life.

After graduation Rowbotham decided to write a comprehensive work in the history of music . Despite its volume of more than 1,500 pages in the first three volumes published, it reached only from the beginning to the 11th century.

Rowbotham left a mass for double choir and orchestra as well as numerous vocal works . He also wrote numerous journal articles and contributions to the Chambers Encyclopaedia . He was one of the first musicologists to systematically study the music of non-European ethnic groups. He thus promoted the emergence of music ethnology . Although after him numerous writings on musical archeology , the music of antiquity and the origin of musical instruments , u. a. By Richard Wallaschek , pursuing other theories, Rowbotham’s publications to the present day form the foundation of the older history of music.

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* German-language Wikipedia text original