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What stuck in my throat...was the public display of ritual murder and cannibalism I had just witnessed. To think that such beautiful, peaceful sensitive, good-humored people were brought up to regard that horrifying performance as normal and right! It shocked me to realize that the Goddess to whom I had just made a loving, voluntary submission was still, as in prehistoric times, the Old Sow who ate her farrow...I paused for a moment at the entrance to a courtyard, and tried to think things out. A girl of about fifteen in a dark cloak came up to me.
"You're thinking hard and bitterly," she said. "I felt it as I passed."
"Yes," I answered. "I was thinking about the Victim and the Wild Women."
Her green eyes and white teeth glinted in the light of a street lamp. "I was one of them myself," she said. What's troubling you?"
..."Now I know that the Victim was murdered and eaten, I feel a shuddering revulsion: I want to recant. In my epoch we did many disgusting things, but we did draw the line at cannibalism."
"Would you have us eat mock sacrifices of bread and wine?"
"Well, why not?"
"Because the midsummer sacrifice must offer itself voluntarily, and no loaf of bread and no bottle of wine can do that. Tonight the people take bread and wine in ritual imitation of our feast; but if we had not celebrated it in fact, there'd be no virtue in the imitation. The Victim met his fate of his own free will: he was my dear brother. If no victim died on behalf of the people, the fields would grow barren."
"How am I to believe that?"
"Before we tore him in pieces, we cut his throat and caught his lifeblood in a bladder. This will be mixed with water from the royal cistern, and a jar of it carried to every town and village in the kingdom, for sprinkling on the fields before the autumn sowing, to sanctify them. My brother died for his love of the Goddess and us all, and when the laborers weep for him at the sprinkling rite, their tears will draw down the winter rains from the Moon, the source of all life-giving waters. And they'll work hard for the remainder of the double year, grateful for the love he showed them."
"I see: 'It is expedient that a man should die for the people.' But why was it necessary to eat his flesh?"
"As a mark of reverence: ordinary corpses are buried in the earth. But his is the greatest prize that a man can win: to be incorporated in the living flesh of the ninefold Mother....It's because of the awful holiness of this sacrifice that New Cretan custom forbids the violent taking of life on any other occasion, even in war. If the sacrifice were annulled, murder would be committed on the least excuse, and where should we be then?"
I thought of the strewn corpses on Monte Cassino [in WWII], where I had been almost the only unwounded survivor of my company; and of the flying-bomb raid on London, when I had held a sack open for an air-raid warden to shovel the bloody fragments of a child into it; and finally of Paschendaele where, in the late summer of 1917, my elder brother had been killed in the bloodiest, foulest and most useless battle in history..
"The Goddess knows best," I said to the girl eventually, and she nodded in grave assent....(245-6)
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