I stood motionless and emotionless for a few brief moments; I needed to take stock of what had come to pass, and indeed what the future would come to hold. The water lapped at my sore feet and caressed my broken toenails. I looked down to where my staff met the sand and pondered.

A few days earlier I had been sitting in my room, having just finished my breakfast of bread and a little wine when I heard a commotion in the street outside. With the aid of my staff I had found my feet and gone to the doorway. The brightness of the sunshine striking the white of the surrounding buildings blurred my already failing eyesight. I waiting a moment for my eyes to adjust, and stepped out into the street. People of all ages were running here and there, gathering the crowd. A young woman grabbed both my shoulder so that I was looking at here beautiful dark eyes.

“Old man,” She said  “They are taking Him to The Hill. It is said that they are going to execute Him there. Come quickly I will take you.”

“What can I do?” I had enquired. “The Romans will not listen to an old Egyptian any more than they would a Jew.”

“To bare witness.”

As I was lead through the crowded streets I recalled the last time I had seen the young man and had thought how wise He was for someone of his age. He had told stories, in the way of the old prophets, yet these were not the same stories. His stories were from my fatherland, the Priests of my fatherland. I had feared that the crowd would riot against him, but instead they had turned against Rome. He had cleverly renamed the key characters of the stories to suit his audience, and he had caught their imagination. He was a hero. And now it seemed the Jews would have their martyr, their Messiah.

As he was leaving I had touched his arm and asked if He had realised the danger He was placing Himself in. He had told me then that the danger was even closer than I realised. He told me that He had placed sacred scrolls in the trust of His brother along with instructions that there were two more Holy scripts that should be kept separate. Then He handed me two pieces of parchment saying,

“I knew you would return to my side on this day, as I know you will do right by these secrets I give you.”

So as I stood there, with my beautiful dark haired companion watching the Romans commit a murder they did not understand I started my journey West.

The warm water soothing my feet cleared my mind yet again. I read over the scrolls again and decided that it would be best for them to be separated. One should remain here and the other should travel with me.

 

I have no idea how far I travelled along my journey, or how many places I visited, or how many wars I witnessed before my old Egyptian body could not take anymore and I was forced to return it to Mother Earth. I have occupied many forms since, always being in just the right place at just the right time and always carrying the knowledge of reading those pieces of paper handed to me all those lifetimes ago, as I have steadily made my way West to the wondrous lands of Powys, West Mercia and now called Shropshire – A county where Witches, Wizards, Druids and Magicians  live freely and openly, side by side with the religions that once oppressed them.

 

So what of me now, in this life? What is so remarkable for someone that claims to have been once so key? For those of you that know me, and have the mind to listen will already know the answers. For those that don’t, your time is not now.

Born in February 1964, the year of the Dragon to the third daughter of a Romany Witch. I am now Living and working in the West Midlands of England in the IT industry. I have five children. My wife, a Witch and practising Wiccan and myself are raising the three youngest in the ways of nature and the turning of the wheel. I am a member of the Ordo Draco Argenteus and regularly attend the Redditch Moot (Details available @ www.orionmoon.co.uk).