Who: Shiri/Polyhymnia (solo) What: Fun House Mirror of Time. You’ll see When: Friday, December 3 (late-ish afternoon)/Late 13th Century Where: University of Miami/Somewhere in Germany Warnings: Sigh. Bold is flashback text. Assume they are speaking German in it.
On campus there was a small, multi-purpose chapel, far enough from the other student buildings that there was a possibility of quiet for all those who chose to approach it. Outside of it were benches, mostly vacant, which at the moment, was fine by Shiri as she sat with her textbook. Most would go to the library for quiet to study, but not her. The library held too many distractions, too many ways to fall into the trap of not studying.
She had to study.
Not because she didn’t know the course material for her class on modern history of the Islamic world, but because she knew too much. She had to study to know what she shouldn’t know, what information she couldn’t even justify knowing by claiming her apparent heritage.
The chapel provided enough solitude to not distract her from her task, while whomever was praying inside provided enough sacredness to keep her focused. Whomever’s prayers couldn’t be anything less than help for the muse of sacred words.
So, she sat outside the chapel on its little bench, focused on her studies, focused to the point she could block out nearly everything from the outside world from her attentions.
The roads were so dusty. A slight wind transformed the roads into a fog of dust and sand and surrounded a traveler on all sides. It made the roads a haven for criminals of every sort and only the brave, the impatient or the foolish would take them over the safer, albeit more roundabout ways on days like this one.
The muse was brave.
She feared no vandal on the road. No mortal man was a threat to her.
Her fears were much more mundane and also much more profound than anything involving the futile threat of some mortal brigand. Her sole mundane fear was falling off her little donkey as it tried its hardest to travel the uneven stone road suffering under hundreds of years of disrepair while being blinded to everything except what was immediately in front of it. But she didn’t pay much attention to the difficulties of her beast nor its clip-clapping gait; her eyes remained focused upward to the skies, straining to see it through the thick, dusty fog. Even obscured, she could see the dark, brooding clouds overhead. It sent a shiver down her spine, even though she knew it was no definite proof of Heaven’s displeasure with her.
It could be.
That was enough.
Her thoughts and fears tumbled over each other in her mind and soul in a tumult of anxiety. Had she finally gone too far? Would intentionally sowing the seeds of discord bring the hand of judgment upon her? She had tried to fix it when it had gotten out of control…
Did that matter?
While people passed her, she paid them no mind. After all, she was sitting beside a chapel, people passing by was not something odd or concerning. Part of it pleased her soul. Despite the fact that she knew they would not pray to her family, at least these foolish mortals knew that they should worship and pray.
“Get your hands off of me! I didn’t do anything to you!”
Shiri picked up her head and turned to look at the wall behind her as if she could see through it. That wasn’t a sound that should come from a chapel. The young man’s voice broke her attention to her studies and even roused her to her feet, but she stood still, except for placing her textbook down and reaching into her bag.
This was a job for campus security.
Not her.
Goddess she may be, but she was not a physically strong one.
She trembled in dread on her little donkey, pulling her cloak tightly around herself. She welcomed the obscuring cloud of dust. She felt hidden in it, despite knowing that feeling was an illusion. She wanted to hide, but where does one hide from the Most High’s wrath?
“I don’t have any money! Please! I am a traveler, not a merchant!”
The muse ignored the cries of distress, even as they broke her focus on her own. It was not her concern. She was but a simple woman on a donkey, not a knight on a horse. What reason did she have to answer such a call? She could barely see in front of her anyway.
“Lies!” Another voice shouted, concealed by the fog from her. A loud thud followed it. “We know you do! All your kind does, Juden!”
She stopped the donkey. The muse was not one to heap more burning coals upon her guilty head.
From her pouch, she pulled out a knife, but the blade would never find the flesh of a foe. Instead, she dragged it across her left palm as she took a deep breath and changed her glamour, changed it to one that would appear strikingly unnatural. Pulling off her veil, she shook out her now long, cascading hair and stepped away from her little donkey.
The little donkey was content to just stand there.
“Today is our day. You shouldn’t even be allowed on campus!”
There was a sudden thump that lightly echoed but managed to be heard even through the wall and Shiri could feel her ichor burning in her divine veins. That wasn’t what holy places… even multi-purpose, interfaith holy places were supposed to be witness to.
But she couldn’t even finish dialing security’s phone number before she heard the first young man’s voice again, “That’s not what this menorah in here says!”
Menorah?
Her phone was snapped shut and she grabbed her textbook as she stormed through the doors of the chapel with righteous fury wrapped around her like a mantle. Her determined haste caused a slight breeze to flare her skirt out in her movement and dramatically whip the untucked expanse of her hijab behind her.
She narrowed her eyes at the sight of the two young Muslim men dressed devoutly in their long white Dishdasha shirts to their knees and their prayer caps, flanking and laying hands on the equally young Jewish man in his yarmulke, Orthodox tassels and black clothes in front of the small gold menorah.
Campus Security could stay where they were.
She put her hand on one of the Muslim’s shoulders and turned him around with all her might, “Get your hand off your brother!” And then repeated it in Arabic for good measure.
With only a few steps, she could easily begin to make out the two bandits beating the old Jewish man, kicking him in the ribs not twenty feet from her. So close. So very close. Calling upon all her meager divine strength, she made her eyes burn blue, actually causing an illumination that shone as a radiance on her stark white skin and hair.
The old man’s eyes widened as he caught sight of her, unable to ignore her presence even under the furious blows of his attackers. His eyes widened further as one of the bandits fell dead at her mere touch. The second bandit wheeled around in bewilderment and fell exactly as his companion had as she lightly grazed his face with her fingers.
The young Jew’s eyes widened. Perhaps he hadn’t expected what appeared to be a Muslim woman to come to his defense, but Shiri paid him no mind for now. Her eyes were locked on the two Muslims as they both wheeled completely around to face her. She could see they were angry. She could see they were ready to speak, but she would have none of it.
None of it.
It was one thing to be ignorant of one’s own holy book when illiteracy was commonplace, but not now. Not with literacy being required on the university’s campus, and not when translations existed.
There would be no excuses or words.
“Mohammad, may blessings and peace be upon him, condemns you. The Children of the Book are not to be harmed, especially those obedient to their covenants. Now submit to your own covenant and stop being disobedient to the words of Allah,” she declared to them and let the tips of her fingers brush along the sleeves of their clothing, flooding them with inspiration, which near immediately coursed through them as the fabric brushed along their skin. “Go. Leave this place and read the Koran. Learn and submit.”
The two young Muslims looked to each other and then to the young man they had accosted, their eyes widened in disbelief and seeming shame. They were quick to shake their heads and hurry out of the chapel.
Then, closing her left hand tightly, she extended her right to the old man to assist him to his feet, all with as much haunting grace and poise she could muster. The old man hesitated, glancing at the bandits at his side, “Who are you?”
“A messenger of the Most High, here to deliver you,” she replied with a subtle melody gracing her words, part of her enjoying the dark humor of her statement. She was a messenger of the Lord, but he wasn’t going to understand how or why. He was just going to translate her declaration into that she was an Angel of the Lord.
The conclusions he jumped to were not her fault.
Even holding his ribs, the old man scrambled to his knees, trembling, “And the Lord sent you to me?”
It was almost enjoyable to both speak the truth and yet deceive this old man. Sometimes the most obvious answer was not the truth. Again, that was not her fault. “Your cries were heard, Mortal Man of Chosen Israel.” She then again offered her right hand, “Come now. I have brought death to your attackers with my left hand, but with my right I bring you safety on your travels. I have a beast of burden that you may sit and rest upon as I accompany you.” But if he touched her stuff on that donkey, they were going to have words between them. Then again, she was certain it wouldn’t actually be difficult to persuade this old, battered man to leave her possessions alone. Especially after how they met. The muse continued, “Stand up. You are not to kneel to me. I am but a servant as you are.”
The young Jew stepped forward, catching his breath and clearly trying to make sense about what just happened before his very eyes. He approached her while she continued to not pay attention to him, at least not completely – her focus was more directed toward the two Muslims as they left. It was only when he began to speak did she turn to look at him, “Who… Why?”
He clearly hadn’t had enough time to make sense of what happened just yet.
Still, Shiri shrugged, letting her anger subside and managed to bring a smile to her face in some attempt to ease the young man still with her, “Why should I have turned a blind eye to my fellow student? Besides, they should know better.” Especially on holy ground. That just made their ignorant action worse to her. On holy ground.
“Thanks…. Um,” he lowered his eyes, straining for the right words before looking back to her, “Is that true what you said to them?”
Shiri couldn’t help it as her smile shifted into a slight frown. She would never understand the questions of mortals sometimes. “Of course. Does it not say that ‘Abraham died at the ripe old age of 175. His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him…’? Do you think that is not also mentioned in the Koran and that there would not be a commandment to not strike such a brother unjustly?” But watching the young man in front of her, she suddenly understood his confusion as she spoke and tried not to roll her eyes. “You and they, most people it seems, are confusing the whole of the people of Israel with the establishment of the country by the same name and the excessive actions of its politicians and soldiers. Very different things.”
As the words left her lips, they grated her right to her soul, but she kept her voice pleasant with a heavenly melody. The old man finally stood up, praising the Lord and a bitter-sweetness flooded her aggravated soul. She had always been a gateway to prayer for other gods, enjoying usually only the gleanings of prayer and worship left to her in the transfer, but now it seemed wrong. Leading the people to praise and worship her family and this… it was different. It felt wrong.
No matter. There was nothing she could. She had no one to save her or be her advocate. No father, no family, no leader – even if she did, they wouldn’t defend her but condemn her. She was a curse to them all.
Their Polyhymnia died on Olympus at the blade of an angel.
“Um… Good Servant?” The old man’s clear confusion on how to address her and his attempt to get her attention broke her from her thoughts. “You said you would lead me and travel with me…”
Shiri felt required by lingering loyalties to her last beloved mortal to phrase her last sentence in such a manner. Something deep in her heart wouldn’t allow her coming to the defense of this young man, a member of the Most High’s chosen people, to be confused in any way with condoning the actions of Israel. Part of her was certain that she would have the ghost of her deceased Palestinian husband haunting her house and making her life very awkward if she left such ambiguities.
But now she only hoped it hadn’t insulted this living man in the room.
It didn’t seem to have, as he smiled at her with almost a smirk, “My family don’t like what they do either, but we’ve been in America for like a hundred years so…” He shrugged a little and then bent down to pick up the textbook that had been forgotten and dropped in her fury. “I took this class last semester. If it’s with Williamson, I can tell you how the exam was if you want…”
“Patience,” she scolded as means to cover for her moment of distraction, but also to put this mortal back into his place. Goddess or angel, mortals had to know proper respect. But, she turned from him then, and wrapped her veil back around herself only to then lead him to her donkey. She took the rope around the donkey’s neck as the old man sat upon its back and walked before both man and beast. It was at least fifty miles to the next town.
Her eyes once more lifted to the Heavens, no longer burning with holy light. The storm clouds overhead parted a little and she took it as a sign. Maybe her Master was pleased with her.
Anything to drive the storm clouds and her fears away.
She glanced down at the book as she took possession of it again. It was with Williamson. And knowing how the exam was constructed would allow her to just omit what information she shouldn’t know much easier and faster than going page by page through the textbook she hadn’t bothered to open all semester. But, she hesitated, “… You were praying…”
The young man nodded, “And I will be again later when everyone else gets here, but I’m early. Think of it as a thank you.”
Looking around the room one more time, she couldn’t deny the fact that if there was some event for Hanukkah going on tonight, he was certainly early. Even the campus Rabbi wasn’t here yet. “Very well, but not here. Outside or somewhere else. This is not the place for it.”
With another nod, he motioned for her to choose a place and Shiri turned to lead them back outside to her little bench she had left. Hopefully no guitar playing hipster was sitting on it preparing to sing about he beer bottles in his room. She liked her little bench and hated that guy with a passion.
But she didn’t see him or anyone else there.
Nothing was preventing her to having her exam anxieties pushed away now.
Summary: Polyhymnia intervenes in the assault of a Jewish man. Twice.