Chapter 7 | The Angels Sing
ⵔⵇⴱⴰⵔ ⵏ ⵉⵙⴰⵄⴰⴷⵉⵢⵏ, Marrakesh. Queen Dido is pacing nervously through the Chamber of Twelve Columns, reviewing all the preparations. These ceremonies, prescribed by Law and governed by Art and Science, are never easy. They're even worse when there's a child involved.
Dido dips into a pocket of her gown and retrieves the note she's read a thousand times. “We have landed at the coast, and I shall be joining you once again shortly, my love.” Aeneas should have been here by now, but there's been no word for days. Just rumors of war and catastrophes, and messengers sent disappear. Dido pockets the note and continues her pacing.
A messenger pops in briefly to consult with the Queen about an offering to the God of the Sea. Sacks of gold, sacks of sand, courtesy of Acerbas, Dido’s uncle and first husband, slain by the jealous Pygmalion. Dido was always one step ahead of her pursuers. She made off with the sacks of gold and sand and mysteriously appeared in this place where the Circus and the Casbah meet.
Three ostriches, as if they belong here, wander across the set. They're part of an act taking place down the corridor, and like many of the animals not deemed to be dangerous, they’re allowed to go where they please.
Dido calls out to one of the messengers to attend to the ostriches. “See that they get to where they're going.” She consults a gold pocket watch with a sapphire crown. The guests will be arriving soon. They're being counseled in the art of understanding in the purgatory wing of the hospital tent.
The fire tenders are fanning the flames beneath the pyre. Cedar wood, oak, cherry. The pyre reaches way up high, towering over the rest of the necropolis. Cables and pulleys are positioned to raise and lower the grate where the body is meant to lie.
Friends, family, and others are starting to stream into the Chamber. There are cedar benches arranged in a circle throughout the great hall. No seat is better than another.
Dido consults her watch once again and catches sight of a figure in a dark corner of the Chamber. An assailant? Perhaps. She glances over at Cyrus, head of security, and gives him a discreet signal. He acknowledges and starts to move slowly towards the unknown figure.
The angel choir has been singing softly in the background. They're gradually raising the volume, and their wings, hidden at first, are clearly visible now. They sing in ancient tongues, songs familiar yet distant and strange. There's a power to the music that could glue you in place, stop your breathing, transport you back to where you came from, thousands of years ago.
Standing here in the Chamber of Twelve Columns, the ground is hot, as if positioned directly over the earth's molten core. The air shimmers, hiding a parallel universe. All this could vanish in an instant, like the moon, just now, emerging from the mouth of a baby, disappearing into the sun.
Queen Dido steps up to the microphone, silently clearing her throat. “Friends,” she starts, taking a pause. “The Circus is a Grand Celebration. A Celebration of you and me. Here, we experience all that life has to offer. We become family. We become all we ever dreamed to be possible.” She stops to drink in the room, to see how her words are resonating.
“Sadly, there are times when Death comes to the Circus, stealing our loved ones without mercy. Although we don't expect it, we are never completely surprised. Just caught off guard, I suppose.”
At the four corners of the pyre, pall bearers are turning the crank wheels, lowering the grate. Hector, the twins Victor and Charlie, Rat and Tat, Tulip, Chessboard, and Teeth are sitting mesmerized towards the front. A group of adults stands solemnly behind them. Other kids from the neighborhood, along with their grownups, are clustered around Hector and his gang. The only ones missing are Neil and red-headed Mike.
Dido is staring into a far corner of the Chamber, where the glow of the flames barely reaches. Cyrus is standing with the Assailant, whose face, from here, appears melted. Neither blade, nor gun, has been drawn.
At the far opposite end of the hall, an opening towards the sunrise over the distant mountains, the ring of fire, and the river that runs through Sketchtown. The angel choir falls silent for one moment.
The pall bearers are carrying him in on a stretcher, his body wrapped in a small shroud. There's a drop of blood on the shroud, but you can't see it from the outside. From here, it looks as if the body is breathing, but that's just the trickery of the air. The room itself feels like it's holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Two others have joined Cyrus. They're leading the Assailant out of the Chamber. His arms are behind his back.
The pall bearers are coming in. A woman in the second row is weeping as her man holds her close. She can hear the angels singing, but she can't decipher their words. Dido is speaking again, chanting a prayer over the approaching body. The merciless death, the infinite love of Gd.
The pall bearers stop and carefully transfer the boy onto the grate, where his mother now sobs uncontrollably. More prayers are spoken as the angel choir continues to sing. Slowly, they raise the boy up to the sky, where the angels will carry him away.
