During the day, shadows cast by the Sun are tinted with blue. The light which reaches the atmosphere directly from the Sun contains every colour. However, blue is the background colour filling the sky because of the size of the molecules which are contained in it, which scatter other colours. Furthermore, objects can only hinder the bright, yellow light that reaches them directly from the Sun, not the blue light from the background. So, shadows contain this type of blue light which reaches the object directly from other parts of the sky, and which can go around their edges. Coloured light, light radiated by multiple sources, or light which is reflected from several objects, can create complex, multi-coloured shadows. Illustrators use techniques such as chiaroscuro, silhouette, and cloudy effects in order to imitate this kind of shadow. On occasions, people can see shadows cast on Terra’s face by Sōl, Lūna, Venus, and Jūpiter. At the rising of the Sun, and when the Sun sets, during the twilight hours, the Eyrth casts a violet or blue-grey shadow on the atmosphere near the horizon, although we often fail to recognise it. In the same way, a bloody sky in the evening, or in the morning, shows a high-pressure system, and thus fine weather, arriving or departing, respectively. 

 

[David] Isn’t it funny how words, and smells, awake memories about things? Funny in the sense of ‘strange’, I mean, not funny in the sense of ‘entertaining.’ But, these aren’t empty shadows, the things people say, the scents, but rather real, physical experiences, which freeze your heart, and make your blood boil. After all, it’s me – the brand-new David Baxter – who should know, it’s me who’s undergone quite a transformation a little while back, getting knocked off balance into left-field, me who’s jumped through a time-warp, and who’s still flying about on a roller-coaster now. How did all this happen? Well there’s a story for you, if I could only bring the facts to mind – somethin' heroically stupid, as usual, involving loads of derring-do – probably. But here, now, I just dunno, but despite that, I can’t get rid of those words that’ve nested in my mind – ‘Is this a dagger I see before me?’

 

[Steffan] Hey, you, lost boy, you little creep, Staffy, mun! Come on, now, steady on cowboy! It’s me here, Stevo from the future – you’re a man by now (me who’s a man I mean)! I’m going to tell you what’ll happen to you, OK? You don’t have a brother, despite that promises, only an unexpected sister called Elen – that immaculate virgin seven-times blessed – Astolat, Benoic, Corbenic, Garlot, Listenoise, the Incomparable, the Younger – you don’t know her yet, although you dream about her every night. (Hmm, all partially correct there, but it won't do if a tomorrow-ripples reveal too much truth, will it?) Anyway, you don’t have that male role-model you’ve always yearned for, because your Dad has run off with someone else's wife (maybe that bully of a smuggler or whatever on the estate who's always comin and goin; or, maybe, someone much closer to home, I can't say). Now then, don’t you worry, let this older lad grab onto you, hold you tight, give you a big cuddle, like only a real man can do. I know that you’ve been thrown in at the deep end, that you’ve always been in trouble, drowning in tension and drama. I was there too, 'member!

 

[David] I’m almost seventeen by now, with the birthday just round the corner, and it’s a magical age, I don’t know why – the bloody brutalizing exams are so important, allegedly, and they’re getting closer and closer. (Would’ve done ‘em earlier, of course, if it hadn’t been for host of little – problems – besetting me ‘round then.) Oh, well, takes a lad’s mind off all the killin’ and unrelenting tragedy goin’ on everywhere, at least! I’ve just escaped from a mind-meltingly awful quadruple-numerology lesson (by the Strange Old Ones, I detest that flagitious walking corpse of a master – wounded veteran, my arse!). To avoid the hellacious homework, I’m half concentrating on the book in front of me (Shpírshvinga’s most mirificent “Skulduggery in the Severest Septentrion”), half turning things over in my head, half dozing, half casting spells. In Lushfé’s name, how many halves could there be in one boy’s life? Anyway, while trying to do all these things, and failing, I’m distracted all the time by the TV set that’s about to pack it in, broadcasting the words of some old, posh talking-head called John B Grossmann. He’s a famous journo and would-be politico from Aberdydd, whose father had fled over the Eastern Sea during the Great Tribulation, becoming a well-known international smuggler. And his vomitaciously charming voice keeps on trying to caress my sullen consciousness — 

 

[Telescreen] “The buildings themselves, which are located in land reclaimed from the red sand-dunes, were planned by Sven Rundskop from the Lowlands. Building was begun in the Year of Hateful Love, and it was finally finished in the Summertide of Loving Hate. Before local government was reorganised most recently, this complex was the proud headquarters of Aberdydd Town Council, and now, it is part of the offices of Aberdydd Community Region.” 

 

[David] I smile while I sigh, and then drag myself back to the text of the Bard – well, old Vihlelm at least, ‘cos he was a Dutshman, not a Kelt – I’m trying to translate into Kimbric – I dunno why. Why would he write in Pretanic anyway, or perhaps it’s Old Dutsh? But I love the horror story about spirits that wait of mortals’ thoughts, while filling them from head to toe with direst cruelty, thickening their blood! It’s like some excellent comic-book, mun! Awesome! 

 

[Steffan] Of course I’ve been where you are now, but believe me, things will be going to change soon enough, mate. You’re going to discover in the end that it’s great to get really tall when you’re still young, you’ll even grow a beard before the other kids! A few’ll admire you anyway. I admit you’ll start to look just like Dad, but you’ll be a lot taller, and the going bald will wait till you’re thirty. You’ll do things in your own time, so everything’ll be fine in the end! 

 

[David] It gives me goose-bumps to slurp up the electrifying marrow from the bones of the words which threaten to splinter in my throat, only to choke me, as if they were fragments of some magic mirror. And then my lungs would be swimming in my own gore – with some other exhausted but importunate voice as if intoning, invoking, imploring – ‘It will have blood, they say, Blood will have blood.’ 

 

[Steffan] I can confidently say that all the hard work’ll be worth the trouble. Think about your Uncle Procter. He was able to get a Certificate in Studies, after he’d left the army or something, doing all that research into strange topics, unidentified flying beds and other obscurantic codswallop, communicating with extra-terrestrials, things like that. And all that, the poor dab, although his wife and the little girl – went – passed away – that’s the truth, as far as I know it, 'onest!  So, you have to realise that we all have problems at times. I know your tribulations seem awful, but, really, things’ll get better. Of course, this won’t make your life easier this minute, but, well, you’d better bear that in mind on all accounts, mun!

 

[David] And here I am – with an undeserved slap to the back of me 'ead and a gut-knifing time-space wrench – back in my childhood, somewhen. That one little expression’s flung me back – just ten words to change the world! The same place, probably, the same vibe at least, but the colours are different – cleaner, brighter, more immediate. Emotions all over the place, ageing and getting younger, my mind a sea of churning impressions {Childhood}. And now, I’m snuggling under the dirty, oppressive quilt in the nightmare-bed again. From nowhere, my now-self realises that I would never have known it then – that magical saying – that kind of vocab, anyway. And then I'm sneaking down the shadow-infested stairs to gape at that ridiculous space-slasher movie. A "me" from my own future tells me (reminds me?) with a wry grin that Dad never would’ve spoken like that, either – before he – "disappeared" for good – and I'm inhabited by a swarm of nocuously exciting questions: where, how, when? But, despite that – I’m not sure, perhaps he would have – or I did – I can’t remember, and likely wouldn't believe myself if i did. 

 

[Steffan] You’d love to get to know your sister, to be honest, to enjoy her company, share your problems, and go on adventures. The idea of meeting, of getting together, of living happily ever after will give you something to live for in your darkest day, keeping you going. You’d get in contact with her, if things were different, but under the circumstances, that’s how it’s to be, for quite some time, anyway. 

 

[David] She (Mam I mean now) had gone off to the banks of the River of Tears to work like crazy in the Field of Rushes and sing praises with all the other well-behaved deceased – had died – although I hate that word. But I didn’t believe all that stuff in the least, even then. I loved day-dreaming and imagining an Afterlife full of steam, and fire, and oil, in the company of Sister Fox-eyes and her avenging army of silent but deadly commandos, hurting all the evil-doers terribly, and then killing them off for once and for all. So, Dad was let off to spend more time away from home that ever before, and he would walk the Eyrth, plying his trade. Doing business with the idle nobs most of the time, he told me. Selling expensive things. Giving them what they want. Providing essential services. Finding difficult to get hold of goods. Transporting special substances. Giving succour to the afflicted. And lots of other things I didn’t understand. Anyway, he left me in peace to study on my own very often. Well, there was the stupid dog, and the lovely sister, and the enchanting beetles under my care, that’s all, s’pose.

 

[Steffan] Of course, friendship with a sister’s one thing, but there’ll be all the studying to do. After all, a life of quiet contemplations is to be your fate, right, mate, ‘cos you don’t want to be up to your ears in relationships and dramas. But I promise you’ll love having a bit of fun with the lads, probably, too, well, you’ve got to have some spare time now and then, in between the research, studying, writing, praying, and whatever else. Then again, a girlfriend would be nice, wouldn’t it, p’rhaps? You don’t want to end up as an old bachelor without a single friend in the world. 

 

[David] I’m staring at the darkness of the sea, whilst telling myself to relax my eyes. And I realise I’ve lost the feeling in my legs, as I stretch out my arm to massage the back of my neck. I’m trying not to think, but something in the air’s reminded me of those things that’ve happened lots of times before when my lyrically loved-up older sister's come home late – evenings full of giggling, and kissing, and canoodling right on the door-step. And it makes me sick, it’s not fair, not right, not at all. How could she do such things, with me, her little brother, lurking upstairs, ogling the whole pathetically poetic performance so keenly?

 

[Telescreen] “The buildings are adorned  with sacred 'blue' stone brought from Prysfenni, so-called as this is held to be the colour of the Eyrth's transmundane emanations. And, there is an art-deco clock-tower some hundred feet in height. The entire project was debatable to say the least when the complex was constructed because the architect insisted on using a style called ‘Naked Ancient’ which had gone out of fashion at that time.” 

 

[David] Hmm, and talking of poetry – Oh, what a stinky, long-haired mongrel is this night, when the Treachery of the Long Knife occurs, a creature that breaks wind loudly, whilst slobbering everywhere, and then insists on feeding noisily once again, before falling asleep having spread itself so messily across the tidy furniture of the Endless Bay by the banks of the Forlorn Flood; Oh, one of the dirty old hounds of Hell are you indeed!

 

[Telescreen] “The received wisdom amongst the sagacious is that the famous ‘blue tower’ resembles the prow (that is the front end) of a Wýkingish longboat. Whether this is true, or not, visitors to the buildings cannot but be reminded of the historical character named Hairy-Ears, the Yarl Aber-Dygdhar, the robustiously raptorial adventurer who is believed by some to have founded the town (or to have pacified and civilized the native inhabitants). In the old language of the mothers of the Wýkinger race, it is likely that the title means ‘Virtue’s Difficulty.’ Of course, the nickname speaks for itself.”

 

[Steffan] You’ll be dead proud when you find a best friend – David Baxter’s his name (or, that will be the name), but everyone used the nickname Dai (and lots of worse things, too!). You’ll hardly believe this. He’s younger than you – a few years’ difference. Why does he like you? Why do you have so much fun together? I dunno, but you’ll feel great with him, you’ll never want to turn your back on him, although he’ll be teasing you all the time. 

 

[David] And I’m drifting again, floating in the warm, crackling air, tickled by clouds as I consider, meditate, weigh-up, free-wheel, observe myself. On the outside, I pretend to be a pious professor aspiring to offer my entire essence to the Unified Intellect, although I can’t find the right words; on the sly, I’m an inexpiable idolater, intent on invoking the Old Gods who idly ignore my importuning. All the time, I'm trying not to think – who, exactly, is Dad – where is he – what’s he doing – what's going to happen, and when? But that’s the worst thing in any world I could do, as now a host of impenetrable "hows" rises up to infest my imagination and fight with unresolvable "whys."

 

[Telescreen] “The complex contains the Town Hall, the Hall of the Images, and Aberdydd Worldly Law Courts, and the County Ecclesiastical Court is located opposite it. In the Hall of the Images are displayed the Panels of the Extremely Exalted Empire of the Etruscans, which had been commissioned in the Year of Excruciating Forgiveness to commemorate the ancient Victory of the Seven Martyrs over the Seven Wise Warriors of the city of Thebe at the end of the Seven Years’ War. Most colourful, and masterfully adorned are the eight  mystical panels, of enormous size.” 

 

[Steffan] It’ll be great to go the underground flicks with Davie-boy Mournday nights after the adult art class to watch a horror film or two. (Adult – Oooh, there’s a word for you! And those ancient Etruscan panoramas are so – eye-catching!). You’ll love comics, too, mun, after all, well, graphic novels anyway! But it’ll be awkward when everyone around you’s smoking the confusticating clatchcreep, you’ll have to be careful, but inhaling a bit’ll be OK, right? It’ll make you feel stupid, that’s the thing – Ooh, as silly as that old Uncle who’s always dressing up and chanting in the forest by the old blue cottage, or in the cellar, I’m not sure. It’s quite nice Dai hasn’t got a girlfriend, that would put a spoke in the wheels! Oh, young Staffy, mun, the small-fry who’s lurking in the background! You gotta believe that these things are going to happen. You’ll flower and flourish – but, yuck, I shouldn’t say that – those are words that are too sophophilic and pompous by half. Just saying you’ll do well would be a lot better. 

 

[Telescreen] “Initially it was intended to display the murals in the Heavenly Fortress of the World-Wide Church, after they were refused by Government House in the Big, Bad, City, but they were considered too modern and vulgar due to all the uncovered flesh. By now, however, they are a gloriously exuberant background to many of the activities that take place inside Aberdydd civic centre. Everyone who casts an eye over them is enchanted by the otherworldly images. Despite that, one of the panels, namely ‘Shaman-no pronouncing the Seven Deadly Words’ is too horrendous to be seen without special preparation.

 

[David] Suddenly, back to the present – there’s shouting and swearing downstairs – not an uncommon thing in this house, Davie-boy, I think to myself while rushing out of the bedroom. The harsh moon is staring at everything, scolding in amazement, then, having considered for a bit, she smiles in a spirit of comradeship. I open the front door, my heart in my throat. Dad’s there, where’s he come from so unexpectedly? What’s happened – he’s terribly wounded – in Wezir’s name – he can hardly stay on his feet – there’s blood – floods of the stuff, everywhere – I don’t understand what he’s saying – there’s a hubbub of coming and going outside the house – then a boy, me, swept into a white van covered in muck – and there’s something else – something wet and still, wrapped up in – in a quilt? Has Dad killed something – or, somebody? Driving for half an hour, a couple of hours, maybe, fear changes time. And then the words of the play sweeping over me once again – ‘Oh, horror, terror, trembling – here’s a spirit vile – Which tongue speaks not his name, nor heart conceives his guile.’ 

 

[Steffan] In the future the Unitechnic in Emerald Town (well, the Big, Bad City, I should say) will be calling you (not the old, awful Poly-varsity in Aberdydd!). Hmm, Dad was always on about politics all the time, and he would’ve loved seeing you as a People's Representative in Government House, or even Foremost Statesman, or something. Decision and dedication will be the most important things. I know you’ll have to work very hard, do your very best, and more, or this’ll all be just a pipe-dream. 

 

[Telescreen] “Apart from its administrative functions, civic ceremonies, entertainments, and social events are held in this complex. Amongst the rituals there are school prize-givings, and the Poly-varsity’s degree presentations.” 

 

[David] I'm bundled up, wrapped in a filthy, ruddy sheet, a semi-living zombie, a half-dead sacrifice. Space gelatinizes to pinion me in a mucilaginous mesh as time eddies and gushes, disorienting me and making me retch. And then – sweet Hebé – there's something splashing my cheek. I squirm, trying to touch the place and rub it, but I spread the stain, the blemish, over my face instead. Slippery slaps to shut up a tearful lad. Something metal, probably – longish – tacky and not cold – Oh, very sharp! – shoved into my hands. The cruel, unexpected stabbing in the dark's treacly moistness makes me squeal like a just-electrocuted lab-rat.

 

[Steffan] But then again, well, you’ve always hated and opposed whatever Dad likes. In terms of education, then, we could say that you’ll see the light to find a calling. After debating fiercely with a monk who’s a friend of Dad’s and a member of the Cowled Brotherhood, called the Old Holy Warrior, you’ll be head over heels in love with Most Holy Divinity, with a career in the True Church awaiting. Imagine the sublime sophophilic ideal of discerning the truth. Hypothesis, consideration, praying, mortification, discussion, submission, illumination, acceptance. And so you'll take part in the world’s most ancient process, whereby incorrect concepts, and vile ideas contrary to the orthodoxy, together with the debased language used by the common folk and the uneducated to express them, shall be swept away entirely from the table of the covenant as the Overseers of the Church Militant say. And only then shall truth, and order, and purity, and spiritual power, prevail. 

 

[Telescreen] “In the Town Hall buildings, one can attend candle-lit Post-nativity Parties and Elegiac Expiration Eulogies. Also, there are (thankfully rather rare) appearances by revenant rollerock bands such as ‘Hebé the Grey,’ as well as frequent traditional (if rather slapdash) concerts by the Choir of the Surreptitious Syndicate. Aberdydd Wýkingish Festival and the yearly celebrations called Arrival of the Pirates (often conflated, and generally exceedingly rowdy), are examples of social events that are held for public amusement.” 

 

[Steffan] But, despite that, the methods of such poetical sophophilia, the processes of speculative divinity, the techniques of the Great Work, are so essentially disordered, so unsatisfactory. There’s too many opportunities to be unsure, to make mistakes. You’ll have to be careful – don’t go after the shadow and miss the substance – in case you lose yourself in unfathomable whirlpools of cogitation. So, having considered everything in great detail, you’ll conclude that you need to concentrate on numerology, on patterns. After all, that’s the human mind exercising its highest creative ability, rejoicing in using its splendid skills. 

 

[Telescreen] “Since the National Independent Broadcasting Agency commissioned the exceptionally popular television series called ‘Out of the Shadows’ by Mamrick, several episodes have been filmed inside the complex—“

 

[David] It’s not the last act, no indeed, not by a long chalk, but it’s this event that’ll seal all our fates. There’s some gangly, cachectic eobiont, almost fleshless, lolling in the gloom under the bridge over the river a couple of metres away, and Dad's straining ineffectually to shunt me out of the vehicle towards it – ‘Hurry, boy … Take the magic box full of special stuff to our best mate … over b’there … run … go … stupid!’ Suddenly, in one hand there’s an ancient snuff-box, and the other one’s still clutching a black dagger, sticky with blood. I hear the command as my heart drums, as if my head’s almost exploding – and if that’d happened, I wouldn’t be the only creature to die that night, maybe.

 

[Steffan] Oh, you’ll consecrate your life to this discipline. And seven will be your favourite number by a long way – the seventh of Jubilee-moon was when you were born – the seventh day of the seventh month – so your zodiac-sign’s Thoahatha (the Hero), with Zeydva (the Man-Bull) rising. And also, there’s – the Seven Switched-on Songsters – the Seven Seas – the Seven League Boots – the Seven Orders of Architecture – the Seven Colours of the Rainbow – Seven Intervals in a Scale – Seven Continents. And knowledge brings confidence, say the Brothers in Charge in the Unitechnic’s Seminary. Yes, numerology, that’s what you’ll do, you’ll become a numerologist, someone who thinks, meditates, creates, explains, tests, predicts, educates. And in time, you might attain the grade of mentalist, maybe. Then everyone’ll regret what they’ve done before.

 

[David] The humidity, torpidly hostile, has second thoughts about stifling me as I proffer the spice-case to the spectral bogey brooding on the threshold of the Two Worlds.  But then Dad’s petulant voice cuts across weakly, like a blast of brittle, hateful coldness, gnawing at me – words straight from the horse’s mouth indeed – and it sounds like his spirit’s rapidly ebbing away – ‘Come on, son – the knife, that’s it – chuck it in the stinking river – we gotta unite metal and water – hurry, for Lushfé's sake!’ Ah, well, I’m not sure, but of course, that’s what I do. And then, definitely, it’s me who wanted to kill, with my whole heart, and mind, and soul. And I chant over and over, ‘Come, let me grab thee. I hold thee not, and yet I have thee still.’

 

[Steffan] Indeed, that’s why you were born, probably. Oh, what a thing it shall be to live amongst the brainy, beautiful youths, the stars of the heavens, whilst learning, discussing, shining like a resplendent light in a foggy world, revealing truth, flying so high, close to the Sun, even, like Thethalu and her son Ithru escaping from the unclean hordes with their wings of paper, and sealing-wax, and string [*]. You doubt you’ll have the ability, the talent, that you won’t succeed. You’ll work so hard, so that the exams won’ t be too much. You’ll only occasionally get tempted by that shocking spice from Sanjibaar that the Old Holy Warrior gives you so you can have visions of glory, I promise. You don’t want to let the chance slip through your fingers, or sacrifice your future for nothing, do you? 

 

[David] And then, after what's seemed like an eternity of driving, on the river-bank, in front of the Blue House of old renown, which is so beautiful, while I – David on the threshold of his manhood – fling the bloody knife into the silent water, Lushfé with his flaming wings spread wide reads my mind, and he comes completely unannounced in answer to the call like a shooting star cutting across the troubled sky carrying his white-hot sword. Dad’s laboriously puffing on his last ever fag, feeling safe, probably, in the Neutral Southern Commonwealth, whilst Hebé the spectral, skeletal mare prances wildly on the tempest’s wind. And as usual she has betrayed a man into the hands of the Seven with her promises that contain an element of truth, and on the other hand, her half lies. 

 

Dad’s throwing his smoke down, completely exhausted. For a minute, a second, the blink of an eye, I stare at him, with hatred, cold, and sharp as a razor, in my heart, while the pool of petrol spreads from under the van. Why it's leaking like that, I'll never know. There's some who've said it was a slow-acting booby-trap of some kind, or somethin', I dunno. But then he really disappears, once and for all, that man who was clever, wild, and cruel at the same time – with a thunderous click and a blinding flash that sets the world on fire, deafening me too. I’m hurled into the still, black river, and on its surface are bits of the van, and chunks of burning human flesh. After this, I’ll never see, or hear, my bloody, devilish Dad, alive again. He’s unceremoniously ascended to glory, you might say – not according to his intricate diavolitic plans, of course – but by sheer happenstance. That’s it. Only much later I realised that he’d been a drug-dealer all the time – dragging me with him and his dirty, criminal cronies hither, thither and yon, to other lands, other homes, other families, other lives, across the huge, cruel, fruitful oceans, even. And although I’d survived, I knew only too soon that I’d got terribly scarred in the explosion.

 

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

In the future, somewhere else entirely, the stinking air of some cellar’s teeming with a myriad of ignifluous entities. They’re calling the "bōs bovum," the appropriate sacrificial bull, to the revivification ritual that the Old Soldier, the Old Holy Warrior, who believes he’s the true master of secrets, has initiated. This intended-oblation, Steffan Grossmann, who’s sad, wise, and enormous at the same time, is supposed to provide the heart and the life-force for the one who has been, and who will be again, so that he shall exist in the time to come as he existed in the far past. And then the voracious shadows devour the man, who’s a virgin, and who was about to kill himself at one stage, transporting him towards the Day of Judgement he has chosen for himself. Without sound, without movement, without change – he gets deleted from existence on the face of the Eyrth – there’s no hole, or gap; now there’s just a lack, where fullness was before.

 

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

[*] Some (Im)pertinent Observations by Mrs B Grossmann. Despite abysmal apprehension, I must scratch a very particular itch here and draw your attention to the “Ascension Approbation of His Extremest Auroral Augustness the First New Kyning of Greatest Pretany.” This was a state-of-the-art archaic liturgy concocted and orchestrated by She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, the Hereditary Champion of the Steely Ramrod. This ethereal, enthralling and insidious overseas savant was, said some, Dendrah, Vital Votary of Wrilya the Worm (the horrific hallowed Hydra sacred to the Dog-headed Goat Cultus), or Txnxlí, Custodian of the Cupric Cauldron. Other, maybe better informed, individuals, gossiped that she was Thethalu, the Māter Malefica of the Crowned and Conquering Child, and that she had been ejected from the heavens and cast down into a lake of boiling tar on our Eyrth on the very day – at the precise instant – that the Moon appeared to split in two and go out. (For a variety of – highly unsavoury – reasons, she (Djlenya, that’s what I call ‘er)  – and the Roving Ragamuffin – would come to have far, far too close a connection with us here in my beloved Madhouse – that is, the Clinic – later on).

 

The Ratification Ritual held in the purpose-built and insanely expensive Installation Auditorium, was proclaimed as the most important event experienced in the realm of reality since the Integrated Wholeness ordered itself and created significance for the first time. Steely Ramrod decreed that it was even more crucial than the extinction of the oppressive Yarlen's hegemony, and infinitely more momentous than any other event whatsoever in the lives of all the plebs who’d ever scrounged an existence on the Holy Isles’ blighted soil. This twisted reasoning was used to justify the obscenely profligate expenditure and grandiose ostentation, even as the majority of the populace dwindled, peaked and pined as if accursed by the three ghouls, Vikinilim, Yovililim and Karulilim, that is, war, starvation, and pestilence.

 

The rite was forged with the utmost ceremonial inventiveness to be full of circumstantial pomp, sacred majesty, unbelievable wonder, star-spangled grandeur, novel insubstantial wisdom, and antique dust-festooned hope. It was precision-engineered to manufacture reverence, to exorcise the spectre of retrospective reinterpretation, to preclude the undermining of established authority, and to invoke and cement consent. Each part was planned and timed immaculately according to an impeccable schedule so that there would be nothing awry, no negativity, and no chance of error. It was imperative that the Kyning should not possibly experience the slightest tinge of boredom, lest he feel annoyed or slighted and throw the Crown Jewels (studded with rosy-quartz, eagle-emeralds, fire-opals, black pearls and topazes) out of his giant gilded Perambulator. (His frequent and unhallowed flare-ups were flagrant in their vulgarity and their viciousness).

 

In attendance were Princelings and Princessettes from the Principalities of Zazkne, Windelóra, Vásneverk, Tyurinke, Hódhá, Hey-tíyn, Góvughrkh and Eldnevrow in the Infernal Expanses of the North-West. Also revelling in the sublime solemnity was a plethora of patricians including ecclesiastics, landlords, merchants and majors from Fáttháwm, and legions of legislators, ministers, corrupt politicos and pundits from Taviston, Bloomdell, Skawní and Tyehvyur. The icing on the Coronation Cake was the presence of Baronisa Lowdun the Laudable, Dukissa Díhrzbí the Distinguished, Ekwes Yeruhl the Unrivalled, Komes Kéhrengtún the Consummate, Markhionissa Tshumlí the Transcendent, Proregina Skrimjóh the Superb, and Wikekomes Welíbyuhr the Worshipful. All the still-living Chief Ministers and Parents of the Nation were forced to take prominent roles, for no pay whatsoever, much to their chagrin. And, while the Inexplicable Essentiality was invoked sacrilegiously often during the service, this was done by secular officiants. The EGO’s clerics were allowed only to lurk, scurry kow-tow, genuflect and chant as commanded in the highly detailed operational instructions. (Apart, of course, for one crucial office involving the Cosmopolitan Ceremonial – see below.) Here is the complete Order of Service.

           

1. The Recognition. Eye of The Throne (Mistress of Ceremonies): Peneèndzy Morghdàny, August Attendant with the Flaming Flail, escorted by the Redolent Matron and Purveyor of Perfumes. Introitus: “Awake, Arise, Bestir: The End-Times are at Hand!” Presiding Officer: Uhruhshí Tchyunaka, Carrier of the Crystal Cudgel. Procession Leader: Yénst Madalgàri, Gubernator of the Girdled Guild. Bearers of the Royal Tools: Guardian of the Glorious Genealogy (Stone of Surety); Regent of the Rosy Cross (Robe of Righteousness); Sire of the Sapphire Shawl (Staff of Sufferance). Presentation (CCC): “I present the undisputed Kyning. All praise the Unseen Essence!” Response: “So be it!” Fanfare.

 

2. The Investiture. Hey-Antífōna: “Lift Up Your Voices in Supplication, O Worthless Wretches Unyielding.” Presiding Officer and Procession Leader: The Senior Seneschal, Ontyónya Bláblahr. Bearers of the Royal Tools: Magnificent Municipal Manager (Chalice of Forbearance); Controller Clerical and Secular (Paten of Protection); Convener of the Constitutional Congress (Bracelets of Sincerity). The Kyning’s Investiture Oath: “I, your Most Refined and Gracious Sovereign, prostrate myself before the Unknowable Intelligence and profess, testify and declare the undoubted authority of the hierarchy and ministers of the Ecclēsia Generālis Omnipotēnsque, the one and only true faith, religion and church, and the precedence of its precepts in all matters spiritual.” Response: “So be it!” Fanfare.

 

3. The Sacrosanct Anointing. Ho-Thréynos “More Bitter than Denatonium is the Acknowledgement of My Wrongs.” Presiding Officer: Leskov Börslavr Pfpfelyuk jon-Stanlíy, Lord President of the Paramount Consistory Tribunal, Scribe, Voice and Hand of the Power Insuperable. Procession Leader: Suffragan Scholastic Soothsayer of the Sanctuary of Stupefying Serenity. Bearers of the Royal Tools: Cardinal Comptroller of the Colleges (Ampoule of Authority); Prior of the Presbytery of the Pristine Parsons (Charismatic Chrism) [ꝋ]; Punitory Padre (Dioptase Dove of Destiny); Superlative Sermonizer (Spoon of Superabundance). The Sacrosanct Anointing: Cosmopolitan Ceremonious and the Kyning (hidden from profane eyes). The Kyning’s Anointing Oath: “I swear to represent this most venerable land temporally with all my imperial will, my intellect, my foresight and my might, not yielding to any noble, nor plebeian, nor any power unholy or profane, neither alien nor native.” Response: “So be it!” Fanfare. [ꝋ] This is a shiny paste of dill, honey, laurel, olive oil and rose-petals which is a shade of green as dark as palm leaves or black beans.

 

4. The Crowning. Éleēsatō: “Extinguish Me, O Mind Eternal Blest, that My Divers Defects Mar this Darkly-shining World No More.” Presiding Officer and Procession Leader: Yaha-kow Bherhd, Standard-bearer of the Sanctified Saltire. Bearers of the Royal Tools: Authoritative Assembler of the Assizes (Crown of Magnificence); Chief Sheriff of All the Shires (Ruthenium Orb of Omnipotence); Supreme Supervisor of the Seaways (Palladium Sceptre of Incisiveness). The Kyning’s Crowning Oath: “I vow that I shall maintain and increase the unquenchable innate stability, strength, glory and righteousness of the Undisputed and Indissoluble Union of the Territories of Greatest Pretany.” Response: “So be it!” Fanfare.

 

5. The Enthroning. Glōria: “Yea, Though All Worlds Burn, the Indivisible Quintessence Endures.” Presiding Officer and Procession Leader: Dodjí “Pighead” Bentbeak, Supernumerary Sovereign of the Silk-stocking. Bearers of the Royal Tools: Proprietor of the Princely Paraphernalia (Enargite Eagle Energetic); Harbinger of the Hundred Histrionic Heralds (Gauntlets of Gravity); Paladin of the Perennial Portcullis (Spear of Supremacy). The Kyning’s Enthroning Oath: “I, as Titular Gerent of the Pink Empire and Commander-in-Chief-in-Waiting of the Holy Army, further affirm that I shall fight even to the destruction of my fleshy body to re-establish the pre-eminent font of all things civilized, the Most Ancient and Wonderful Imperium Roseum.” Response: “So be it!” Fanfare.

 

6. The Popular Obeisance. Diēs īrae: “Flesh Shall Melt, Bones Shatter and Blood Boil as this Lost Spark is Consumed by the Over-light.” Presiding Officer: Théyrā Mayáas, Pursuivant of the Peerless Personage (bearing the Golden Rod of Wealth and the Silver Mace of Mastery). Procession Leader: Se-leyn Saxbí, Elevated Escort with the Black Baton, accompanied by the Boyish Bearers of Balms, Banners and Bouquets. In attendance: Commoners Confirmed by Condescension; Retinue of the Ragged Retired Retainers; Peasants Privileged by Permit (cowering and fawning in their filthy gerdeen [Ᵹ] livery, and carrying esoteric ice-swans, gourmet toffee-apples, homeopathic panaceas, and priceless stainless-steel tongue-studs [Ꝿ]). [Ᵹ] A vile amalgamation of red and green. [Ꝿ] Every item manufactured by slave-labour on the Kyning’s Black Spider Estate.

Call to Subjugation (PPP): “Fall to your knees, therefore, all you millions of commoners throughout the Wicked World, before the Peace-Bringer to the Blue Zone of Skalba, the Regent of the Red Zone of Kimbria, High-Lord of the Green Zone of Eyrw, and the Liberator of the Pink Zone of Ilknuld! Do homage in body and mind, voice and spirit, to the undisputed Kyning.” Obeisance of the Entire Orb: “I, in my lowliness, humbly beg leave to fall on my face and swear utter obeisance to the Kyning, Acknowledged Autocrat of Greatest Pretany and All the World and Interrupted Emperor of the Pink Empire. I promise full obedience to him as undisputed worldly overlord. I offer complete loyalty to him and to all things and persons that have sprung, and shall spring, from him, on pain of final severance from the Might Unbounded and ultimate annihilation.” Response: “So be it!” Fanfare. Inauguration Ex-Saltation [sic — P.M.]: “All Praise to the Universal Lord; May the Inexhaustible Force Have Mercy on Us, the Most Unworthy.”

 

7. The Excellent Acclamation. Jūbilāte: “From Nothingness I Came; into Nothingness I Sink Once More.” Presiding Officer and Procession Leader: Carrier of the Crystal Cudgel. Bearers of the Royal Tools: Chancellor’s Courtly Counsel (Scimitar of Judgement); Reeve Regnant (Ring of Wisdom); Superior Scribe of the Signet (Arrows of Intellect). Sēo-Antefn: “All Honour to the Sole True Church, from Which Alone Liberation Flows.” Fanfare. Acclamation by the Nobles: “Long live the Kyning. May the Ineffable Existence sustain the Kyning. Let the Kyning’s virtue ascend to merge with the Undifferentiated Source of Being in the Aftertimes.” Response: “So be it!” Fanfare.

 

8. The Dismissal. Missiō: “Go Forth and Spread as Blackest All-engulfing Tar; the Awesome Truth on All Enforce.” Solemn Dissemination (Carrier of the Crystal Cudgel): “Begone! Sin no more, irredeemable miscreants! Make haste to implement the Unique Church’s words; to glorify the Kyning and the Kwén, and to give your whole self to the furtherance of Greatest Pretany and the restoration of the Pink Empire.” Response: “So be it!” Fanfare. August Attendant with the Flaming Flail leads the Procession out of the Installation Auditorium in accordance with the newly-established order of precedence.

 

Before the hateful hullabaloo kicked off, the Loathsome Lawmakers hastened to act in order to subdue dissenting spirits and minds, voices and limbs, prevent conflict, and preserve the Kyning and Kwén’s Consecrated Concord against popular uprising and violent insurgency. As a result, a new “Edict for the Absolute Eradication of Anti-societal Anarchism” was rushed through the Hypocritical Halls of the Legislature even more helter-skelter and slip-shodly than usual. The Regional Civic Chambers for Dogma, Decency, Repression and Retribution were granted almost unlimited (and unregulated) discretionary powers. The Divisions of the Devoted Denizens imposed a curfew on the peasants, even though very many of them were hypothermic, consumed by the scrofulous scourge, macerated, or all three. Predicted agitators were arrested and tortured (some were disembowelled, thankfully without being killed). Those arch-traitors judged possible of sullying the stultifying celebrations in the slightest were seized, spirited away, and pre-emptively hanged.

 

The whole Ratification Ritual was beamed continuously to all dwellings in Pretany for a year and a day following the Investiture, with the intention of normalizing serfdom, instilling obedience, enforcing conformity, and encouraging enthrallment. (Some brave wags murmured under their breath that the beleaguered authorities were trying to distract attention from the Perverse Profligacy of the Persistent Partying perpetrated by the Miscreant Multitude of Mendacious Magnates.) The alleged zenith of the entire misbegotten palaver was, of course, the Call to Subjugation and the Obeisance of the Entire Orb, made symbolically on behalf of the riffraff by the Retired Retainers, the Confirmed Commoners, and the Privileged Peasants. And yet in that regard, the Paternalistic Potentates failed abysmally, and, in fact, were thoroughly thwarted in their nefarious intent.

 

For, in the throes of “regi-mania,” no-one in the tragic tunnels and tainted towers of Government House had twigged that every aspect of the Ratification Ritual was steeped in unholy practices thitherto unknown to most of the World, based on the use of transmundane names, cyphers, shapes and gestures. After all, the organisers and composers had received – counsel – from Dendrah Txnxlí Thethalu herself, allegedly. (This is now the semi-official story at least. I personally would guess the whole caboodle involved a revolting dose of mentalism and phaneronics – and there’s a load of old mystical ball-cocks for you!) Thus, it was whispered, the very substance of the Ascension Approbation contained a wealth of the most acutely efficacious mantras for invoking hordes of eldritch entities. These recondite protocols – so some said – were intended to kindle the Slumbering Serpent in its House of No Return at the end of the Road to Nowhere so that it would rise through the dark unconscious waters to writhe like knotted cords in molten wax, spitting its salvific venom.

 

I summarize here the analysis of the incidental performances by Áhntí Semìfora. The extended opening chord progressions vibrate the supposed cosmic death-rattle – “gzurkhw bwzhw, ksilka veza, hethihila fese”– that represents the implacable call of the Void within each of us. The middle section begins by exquisitely invoking the pain, grief and despair of existence and yet transmutes these into a polyphonic chorus celebrating struggle, endurance and victory. This part uses leitmotifs depicting a deer, a fox, a crow, a wolf and a falcon as they repeatedly live, and die, and are reborn, through the primitive cross-quarter festivals – Candlvrihyal, Byaltyunya, Hlavrihyal and Sawhwena – under the auspices of the constellations Hustwr the Irrigator, Zeydva the Man-bull, Lakhmw King of the Brindled-cats, and Ak-rabw the Audacious Arachnid. The concluding piece is filled with vocalizations of “awmha,” the creative seed-word of all existence, inscribed on the long-lost Doors of Hwedenel the Watcher. This repetitive, mesmeric chanting evokes feelings of solidarity with all beings, peace and contentment, coupled with an unrelenting resolve to overthrow every oppressor and restore justice and equality by any means necessary.

 

In preparation for the “stealth awakening” the proles had been primed by undercover Wizards to purify themselves in cold running water, sow salt about their hovels to absorb evil emanations, and burn the potent herb Aglaeribos oliofotis to heighten their awareness. When the fatal flaming sword rose to slice through the murky sky and smite the Eyrth’s stony shell at the end of every day, uniting the upper and lower worlds, the red life-water of the Animated Corpses was infused with the intoxicating incense and the food and water of life. Each time (it is claimed), they would arise as one, oily midnight-green fire pouring from noses and mouths, to intone the transcendental sublation supplication, “IA-ADU-EN-I ~ I-NE-UDA-AI,” that encapsulates the way in which novelty arises to overturn the long-established order only to recreate ancient ways in an alternative guise before sinking into oblivion once again.

 

Indeed, all this wily witchery did disseminate germs of aspiration and stir the soup of rebellion in faltering hearts, weak minds, sluggish souls, and palsied limbs, whatever else it did. Haltingly, reluctantly, unthinkingly – and not without chronic affliction – the rabble began to transfigure in mind-boggling ways. Well, the Treacherous Trinity of Faith, Government and Mercantilism had intended that the image of the Kyning and the Kwén would work to regulate what was real (that is, true, moral, acceptable, and sane) and separate it from everything fantastic (that is, untrue, immoral, unacceptable, and insane). The real was supposed to be sanctioned and commendable in society, and the fantastic, forbidden and despicable. And, Oh, how incensed were they when their plans were shattered! The Authoritarian Alliance determined to burn the World rather than let their sworn enemies amongst the ranks of the lower orders win. So maybe the enigmatic wishes of Djlenya, Custodian of the Cupric Cauldron and Vital Votary of Wrilya the Worm did come true after all. Or maybe not.

 

Yn ystod y dydd, arlliwir cysgodion wedi’u taflu gan yr Haul â glas. Mae’r golau sydd yn cyrraedd yr awyrgylch yn uniongyrchol o’r Haul yn cynnwys pob lliw. Fodd bynnag, glas yw lliw’r golau cefndir yn llenwi’r awyr oherwydd maint y molecylau a gynhwysir ynddi, sydd yn gwasgaru’r lliwiau eraill. Ymhellach, ni all gwrthrychau atal ond y golau melyn, llachar sydd yn eu cyrraedd yn syth o’r Haul, nid y golau glas o’r cefndir. Felly mae cysgodion yn cynnwys y fath olau glas sydd yn cyrraedd gwrthrych yn anuniongyrchol o rannau eraill yr awyr ac a all fynd o gwmpas yr ymylon.Gall golau lliw, golau wedi’i belydru gan darddleoedd lluosog, neu olau a adlewyrchir gan sawl gwrthrych, greu cysgodion amryliw, cymhleth. Y mae arlunwyr yn defnyddio technegau fel ciarosgwro, silwét, ac effeithiau niwlog, er mwyn dynwared cysgodion o’r fath. Ar adegau y mae pobl yn gallu gweld cysgodion wedi’u bwrw ar wyneb Terra gan Sōl, Lūna, Venus, ac Jūpiter. Gyda chodiad yr Haul, a phan fydd yr Haul yn machludo, yn ystod yr oriau cyfnos, bydd y Ddaear yn taflu cysgod dulas neu laslwyd ar yr awyrgylch wrth y gorwel, er inni fethu ei adnabod yn aml. Yn yr un modd, awyr waedlyd fin nos ynteu yn y bore sydd yn dangos system bwysedd uchel, ac felly tywydd braf, yn dynesu neu’n ymadael, yn ôl eu trefn.

 

[David] On’d yw’n ddoniol meddwl sut mae geiriau, ac arogleuon, yn deffro atgofion am bethau? Doniol yn yr ystyr ‘rhyfedd,’ rwy’n feddwl, nage doniol yn yr ystyr ‘digrif.’ Ond, ddim cysgodion gwag yw’r rhain, y pethau mae pobl yn dweud, y sawrau, ond yn hytrach profiadau corfforol go iawn, sy’n rhewi’r galon, ac yn gwneud i’r mêr ferwi. Wedi’r cwbl, fi – y David Baxter newydd sbon – a ddylai wybod, fi sy ‘di diodde’ cryn drawsnewidiad gynnau fach, gan gael ‘y mwrw oddi ar ‘yn echel i law chwith y cae, fi sy ‘di neidio drwy ystumdro amser, ac sy’n dal i hedfan o gwmpas ar ffigyr-êt erbyn hyn. Sut ‘naeth hyn oll ddigwydd? Wel dyna stori i chi, ‘swn i ddim ond yn gallu dwyn y ffeithiau i gof – rhw'beth arwrol o dwp, fel arfer, gyda llawer o ddewrder – siŵr o fod. Ond yma, nawr, sa i’n gw’bod, ond er ‘ny, dw i’m yn gallu cael gwared ar y geiriau ‘na sy ‘di nythu yn ‘yn meddwl – ‘Ai dagr yw hwn rwy’n ei weld o’m blaen i?’

 

[Steffan] Hei, ti, fachgen ar goll, y sinach bach, Staffy, w! Dere ‘mlaen, nawr, gan bwyll, gwboi! Fi sy ‘ma, ti, Stevo o’r dyfodol – rwyt ti’n ddyn erbyn hyn (fi sy’n ddyn dw i’n feddwl)! Dw i’n mynd i weud wrthot ti be’ fydd yn digwydd i ti, iawn? ‘Sdim brawd ‘da ti, er gwaetha’r addewidion, dim ond chwaer annisgwyl o’r enw Elen – y forwyn ddihalog ‘na wedi’i bendigo saith gwaith – Astolat, Benoic, Corbenic, Garlot, Listenoise, y Ddigymar, yr Iau – dwyt ti’m yn nabod hi ‘to, er fod di’n breuddwydio amdani bob nos. (Hmm, popeth yn rhannol gywir yna, ond naiff hi mo'r tro i grychdonnau 'fory ddatgelu gormod o wirionedd, oni naiff?) Ta be, ti heb y model rôl gwryw ‘na ti wastad wedi chwennych amdano fe, achos bod dy Dad di wedi rhedeg bant gyda gwraig rhywun arall (falle'r bwli o smyglwr 'na neu beth bynnag ar y ‘stad sy bob amser yn mynd a dod, neu falle rhywun yn nes o lawer aton ni, sa i'n gallu gweud). Nawr 'te, paid di â phoeni, gad i’r llanc henach ‘ma gydio ynot ti, dy ddal di’n dynn, rhoi cwtsh mawr i ti, fel dim ond dyn go iawn yn gallu’i ‘neud. Dw i’n gw’bod i ti gael dy fwrw i’r dwfn, a fod di wastad wedi bod mewn trafferth, yn boddi mewn tensiwn a drama. Bues i yno ‘fyd, cofia di!

 

[David] Bron yn ddau ar bymtheg dw i bryd hyn, gyda’r pen-blwydd jyst rownd y gornel, ac mae’n oedran hudol, dw i’m yn gw’bod pam – mae’r blydi arholiadau dad-ddyneiddio mor bwysig, yn ôl y sôn, ac yn dod yn nes nes. (Fe fydden i wedi’u ‘neud nhw’n gynharach, wrth gwrs, oni bai am yr holl – problemau – bach fu’n ymosod arna i bryd ‘ny.) O wel, ma’n mynd â meddwl llanc oddi ar yr holl ladd a’r trasiedi ddiarbed yn digwydd ym mhob man, o leia! Dw i newydd ddianc o wers rifoleg bedwarplyg yn ddigon gwael i doddi’r ymennydd (myn y Dienyddiau Rhyfedd, mor gas ‘da fi yw’r celain yn cerdded o feistr – feteran wedi’i anafu, twll ei din e!). I osgoi’r gwaith cartre uffernol, rwy’n hanner canolbwyntio ar y llyfr o’n blaen i (“Anfadwaith yn yr Anghysbell Ogledd Aethus” ansbaradigaethus Shpírshvinga), hanner hel meddyliau, hanner pendwmpian, hanner bwrw hud. ‘Neno Lushfé, faint o haneri allai fod ym mywyd un llanc? Ta be, wrth drio ‘neud yr holl bethau ‘ma, a ffaelu, tarfu arna i drwy’r amser a wnaiff y set deledu ar fin mynd a’i phen iddi, sy’n darlledu geiriau rhyw hen ben parablus, posh o’r enw John B Grossmann. Mae hwn yn newyddiadurwr enwog a gwleidydd mewn bwriad o Aberdydd, tad pwy oedd wedi ffoi dros y Môr Dwyreiniol yn ystod y Cythrwfl Mawr, gan ddod yn smyglwr rhyngwladol adnabyddus. A dyma’i lais cyfoglyd o lednais yn ceisio anwesu’n ymwybod swrth o hyd —

 

[Sgrin Deledol] “Cynlluniwyd yr adeiladau eu hun, a leolir yn nhir wedi’i adennill o'r twyni tywod cochion, gan Sven Rundskop o’r Tiroedd Isel. Dechreuwyd codi ym Mlwyddyn Cariad Cas, a gorffennwyd ef o'r diweddd yn Haf Casineb Serchus. Cyn yr aildrefnwyd llywodraeth leol yn ddiweddaraf, pencadlys balch Pwyllgor Tref Aberdydd fu’r cyfadeilad hwn, ac yn awr, rhan o swyddfeydd Bro Gymunedol Aberdydd ydy.”

 

[David] Dw i’n gwenu wrth ochneidio, ac wedyn llusgo ‘yn hunan yn ôl at destun y Bardd – wel, yr hen Vihlelm o leia’, achos taw Dytsiwr oedd e, nage Kelt – rwy’n ceisio’i gyfieithu i’r Gimbreg – ‘dwn i’m pam. Pam fyddai’n sgrifennu yn y Bretaneg ta be, neu falle taw Hen Ddytsieg ydy? Ond dw i’n dwlu ar yr hanes arswyd am ysbrydion sy’n gweini ar feddyliau meidrolion, tra’u llanwant o’r corun i’r sawdl â chreulondeb enbytaf, gan dewychu’u gwaed! Mae fel rhyw lyfr comics gwych, w! Ardderchog!

 

[Steffan] Wrth gwrs mod i ‘di bod ble rwyt ti nawr, ond creda di fi, bydd pethau’n mynd i newid yn ddigon buan, mêt. Ti sy’n mynd i ddarganfod ym mhen yr hir a’r hwyr taw gwych fydd dod yn dal iawn pan fod di’n ifanc o hyd; ‘nei di hyd yn oed dyfu barf cyn y cryts eraill! Ambell un fydd yn edmygu ‘ny, ta p’un. Dw i’n cyfadde’ byddi di’n dechrau edrych yn union fel Dad, ond, byddi’n dalach o lawer, a ‘naiff y mynd yn foel aros nes i ti fod yn ddeg ar hugain. ‘Nei di bethau yn dy amser da dy hunan, ‘lly bydd popeth yn iawn yn y diwedd!

 

[David] Ac mae’n codi croen gŵydd arna i lyncu mêr gwefreiddiol o esgyrn y geiriau sy’n bygwth torri’n ysgyrion yn ‘y nghorn gwddf, dim ond i ‘nhagu i, fel ‘sen nhw’n deilchion o ryw ddrych hudol. Ac wedyn byddai’n ysgyfaint i’n nofio yn ‘y ngwaed ‘yn hunan – a llais rhywun arall, yn llesg ond taer, fel petai'n llafarganu, arddeisyf, ymbil – ‘Efe gaiff waed; ebe hwynt, Gwaed a geith waed.’

 

[Steffan] A dwi’n medru gweud yn hyderus fe fydd y gwaith caled yn werth y drafferth. Meddylia am dy Wncwl Procter. Roedd e’n gallu ennill Tystysgrif mewn Astudiaethau, ar ôl iddo adael y fyddin neu rywbeth, gan ‘neud yr holl ymchwil i bynciau rhyfedd, gwelyau hedegog anhysbys a dwli tywyll arall, cyfathrebu gyda bodau arallfydol, pethau fel ‘ny. A hynny oll, y pŵr dab, er bu fynd – hynny yw, bu farw – ei wraig a’r ferch fach, am wn i, wir i ti. ‘Lly ti’n gorfod sylweddoli bydd problemau ‘da ni i gyd ar amserau. Fe wn i fod dy helbulon yn ymddangos yn ofnadw’, ond, mewn gwirionedd, ‘naiff pethau wella. Wrth gwrs fydd hyn ddim yn ‘neud dy fywyd di’n haws y munud ‘ma, ond, wel, well i ti ddwg ‘ny mewn cof, ar bob cyfri’, w!

 

[David] A dyma fi – gyda chlatsien anhaeddiannol ar gefn ‘y mhen i a dirdroi amser-gofod fel cyllell yn rhwygo’r perfeddion – yn ôl yn ‘y mebyd, r’wbryd neu’i gilydd. Mae’r un ymadrodd bach ‘na wedi ‘yn lluchio i ‘nôl – dim ond naw gair i newid y byd! Yr un lle, siŵr o fod, yr un naws o leia, ond bod y lliwiau’n wahanol – yn lanach, claerach, cryfach. Emosiynau dros bob man, ‘wrth heneiddio a mynd yn ifancach, yn meddwl yn fôr o argraffiadau’n corddi {a}. Nawr, dyma fi’n cwtsio dan y cwilt llethol, brwnt yn y gwely hunllefus ‘to. Heb ddisgwyl, ma ‘mresennol-hunan yn sylweddoli fydden i ‘rioed wedi’i w’bod bryd ‘ny – y dywediad hudol ‘na – y math ‘na o eirfa, ta be. Ac wedyn, dyna fi’n snecian i lawr y staer heigiog o gysgodion i gegrythu ar y ffilm slaeswr dwp ‘na. Ma’na r’w “fi” o ‘nyfodol ‘yn hunan yn gweud wrtha i (yn ‘yn atgoffa i) fydde Dad ‘rioed wedi siarad fel ‘na, chwaith – cyn iddo fe – “ddiflannu” am byth – a dwi’n cael ‘yn meddiannu gan haid o gwestiynau niweidiol o gynhyrfus: ble, sut, pryd? Ond, serch ‘ny – dw i’m yn siŵr, falle bydde fe – neu nelen i – alla i’m cofio, a fydden i’m yn ‘y nghredu’n hunan ‘sen i’n gallu, mwy na thebyg.

 

[Steffan] Fe fyddet ti’n dwlu ar ddod i nabod dy chwaer, a bod yn onest, i fwynhau ei chwmni, rhannu dy broblemau, a mynd ar anturiaethau. Bydd y syniad o gwrdd, o ddod at eich gilydd, o fyw’n ddedwydd byth oddi ar ‘ny, yn rhoi rhywbeth i ti fyw er ei fwyn yn dy ddyddiau mwya’ tywyll, gan dy gynnal di drwyddo. Byddet ti’n cysylltu â hi, ‘sai pethau’n wahanol, ond dan yr amgylchiadau, ddim ‘lly fydd hi, am gryn amser o leia .

 

[David] Roedd hi (Mam dw i’n ei golygu nawr) wedi mynd bant i lannau Afon Dagrau i weithio fel lladd nadredd ym Maes Brwyn a chanu clodydd gyda’r ymadawedigion ufudd eraill oll – wedi marw – er mod i’n casáu’r gair ‘na. Ond do’n i ddim yn credu mewn pethau fel hynny o gwbl, hyd yn oed bryd ‘ny. O’n i’n dwlu ar wlana a dychmygu Ôl-fywyd yn llawn ager, a thân, ac olew, yng nghwmni Chwaer Lygaid Cadno a’i byddin ddialgar o gomandos distaw ond marwol, yn brifo’r holl droseddwyr yn enbyd, ac wedyn eu lladd nhw’n gyfan gwbl ac am byth. ‘Lly gaeth Dad ei ryddhau i hala mwy o amser oddi cartre’ nag erio’d o’r blaen, ac fe fyddai’n cerdded ar y Ddaear, gan fynd o gwmpas ei bethau. Masnachu â’r crachach segur ran fwya’r amser, fe ddwedodd e wrtha i. Gwerthu pethau gwerthfawr. Rhoi iddyn nhw beth maen nhw eisiau. Darparu gwasanaeth hanfodol. Dod o hyd i nwyddau anodd cael gafael arnyn nhw. Cludo sylweddau arbennig. Cynorthwyo’r cystuddiedig. A llawer o bethau eraill do’n i’m yn gallu deall. Ta be’, ‘nâi fe adael llonydd i fi ddysgu ar ‘y mhen ‘yn hunan yn aml iawn. Wel, roedd y ci dwl, a’r chwaer hyfryd, a’r chwilod swynol dan ‘yn ofal i, dyna i gyd, sbo.

 

[Steffan] Wrth gwrs, cyfeillgarwch gyda chwaer yw un peth, ond bydd yr holl astudio i ‘neud. Wedi’r cwbl, bywyd o synfyfyrio tawel fydd dy dynged di, reit, ‘achan, achos fyddi di’m am fod at dy glustiau mewn perthnasau a dramâu. Ond rwy’n addo fe fyddi di’n dwlu ar gael tipyn bach o hwyl gyda’r llanciau, siŵr o fod, ‘fyd, wel, rhaid cael rhyw amser sbâr nawr ac yn y man, rhwng yr ymchwil, meddwl, ‘sgrifennu, gweddïo, a be’ bynnag arall. Eto i gyd wejen fyddai’n neis i ti, on’ byddai, ‘lle? Fyddi di’m eisiau’i gorffen hi’n hen lanc heb yr un ffrind yn y byd.

 

[David] Ar dywyllwch y dŵr ryw’n syllu, wrth weud wrtha’n hunan am lacio’n llygaid. A dyma fi’n sylweddoli mod i ‘di colli’r teimlad yn ‘y nghoesau, wrth i fi ymestyn y breichiau i dylino ‘ngwar. Rwy’n trio peidio meddwl, ond mae rhywbeth yn yr awyr wedi ‘nghofio fi am y pethau ‘na sy ‘di digwydd lawer gwaith o’r blaen pan fydde'n chwaer hŷn, yn delynegol mewn cariad, yn dod ‘nôl yn hwyr – nosweithiau llawn piffian, a chusanu, a chwtsio yn union ar y stepen drws. Ac mae’n codi pwys arna i, dyw’m yn deg na reit, ddim o gwbl. Sut allai hi ‘neud y fath bethau, a fi, ei brawd bach, yn llechu lan staer, gan rythu ar yr holl berfformiad dros ben llestri fel rh'w gerdd serch mor frwd?

 

[Sgrin Deledol] “Addurnir yr adeiladau â cherrig 'glas' cysegredig a ddygwyd o Brysfenni, ys dywedir oblegid credir mai lliw deilliadau goruwchnaturiol y Ddaear ydy hwn. Ac, y mae yno dŵr cloc art-deco rhyw gant o fedr o daldra. Dadleuol a dweud y lleiaf oedd y prosiect i gyd pan adeiladwyd y cyfadail oherwydd bod y pensaer yn mynnu defnyddio arddull o’r enw ‘hynafol noeth’ a oedd wedi mynd allan o fri y pryd hynny.”

 

[David] Hmm, a sôn am farddoniaeth – O, am frithgi hirflew, drewllyd yw’r noson hon, pan ddigwydd Brad y Cyllell Hir, creadur sy’n torri gwynt yn uchel, wrth lafoerio ym mhobman, ac wedyn mynnu bwydo’n swnllyd unwaith yn rhagor, cyn syrthio i gysgu wedi lledu’i hun mor flêr dros gelfi twt y Bae Di-ben-draw ger glannau Afon Dagrau; O, un o hen gŵn brwnt Annwfn wyt ti’n wir!

 

[Sgrin Deledol] “Y mae’r doethineb derbyniedig ymhlith y deallusion ydy bod y ‘tŵr glas’ enwog yn debyg i ffureg (hynny yw pen blaen) cwch hir Llychlynnaidd. A ydy hyn yn gywir ynteu’n anghywir, ni all ymwelwyr â’r adeiladau beidio â chael eu hatgoffa or cymeriad hanesyddol a adweinid fel yr Yarl Aber-Dygdhar Glustiau Blewog, yr anturiwr afieithus o reibus y credir gan rai iddo sefydlu’r dref (neu heddychu a gwareiddio’r trigolion brodorol). Yn hen iaith mamau’r dras Ficingaidd, mae’n debyg bod y teitl yn golygu ‘Anhawster Rhinwedd.’ Wrth gwrs mae’ r llysenw yn llefaru drosto ei hun.”

 

[Steffan] Balch iawn fyddi di o ddod o hyd i ffrind gorau – David Baxter yw ei enw e (neu, dyna fydd yr enw), ond bydd pawb yn defnyddio’r llysenw Dai (a llawer o bethau gwaeth, ‘fyd!). O’r braidd byddi di’n credu hyn. Mae’n iau na ti – rhyw flynyddoedd yw’r gwahaniaeth. Pam mae’n dy lico di? Pam dych chi’n ca’l cymaint o hwyl â’ch gilydd? ‘Dwn i’m, ond fe fyddi di’n teimlo’n braf gyda fe, fyddi di byth eisiau cefnu arno, er bydd e’n dy blagio di’n atgas bob amser.

 

[David] Dyma fi’n drifftio unwaith ‘to, yn nofio yn yr awyr dwym yn clatsian, wedi 'nghosi gan gymylau, wrth i fi gysidro, myfyrio, pwyso a mesur, hwylio mynd, gwylio'n hunan. Y tu fa's, dw i'n smalio bod yn broffeswr defosiynol yn deheu am gynnig 'yn hanfod oll i'r Deallusrwydd Unedig, er dw i'm yn gallu feindio'r geiriau cywir; ar y slei bach, eilunaddolwr annyhuddol dw i, â'n holl fryd i ar arddeisyf yr Hen Dduwiau sy'n anwybyddu'r ymbil yn ddidaro. Drwy'r amser, rwy’n trio peidio meddwl – pwy, yn union, yw ‘Nhad – ble mae e – beth mae’n ‘neud – be sy'n mynd i ddigwydd, a pryd? Ond dyna’r peth gwaetha mewn unrhyw fyd allen i 'neud, achos dyna lu o gwestiynau '"sut" anhreiddiadwy'n codi bellach i heigio ar 'y nychymyg a brwydro yn erbyn y rhai "pam" annatrysadwy.

 

[Sgrin Deledol] “Cynhwysa’r gymhlethfa: Neuadd y Dre, Neuadd y Delweddau, a Llysoedd Cyfraith Fydol Aberdydd, a lleolir Llys Eglwysig y Sir gyferbyn â hi. Yn Neuadd y Delweddau yr arddangosir Panelau Ymerodraeth Dra Dyrchafedig yr Etrwsgiaid, a gomisiynasid ym Mlwyddyn Maddeuant Arteithiol er mwyn coffáu Buddugoliaeth hynafol y Saith Merthyr dros Saith Ryfelwr Doeth Dinas Thebe ar ddiwedd y Rhyfel Saith Mlynedd. Tra lliwgar, a phenigamp o addurnedig yw’r wyth panel rhiniol, o faint dirfawr.”

  

[Steffan] Bydd yn wych mynd i’r pictiwrs dirgel ‘da Davie-boi ar nos Aflun-ddydd ar ôl y dosbarth celf i oedolion i wylio ffilm arswyd neu ddwy. (Oedolyn – Ww, dyna air i ti! Ac mae'r panoramau Etrwsgaidd 'na mor – llygad-dynnol!). Fe fyddi di’n dwlu ar gomics ‘fyd, w, wedi’r cyfan, wel ‘nofelau graffig’ ta be’! Ond bydd yn chwithig pan fydd pawb o gwmpas yn ‘smygu’r mwg drwg, rhaid i ti fod yn garcus, ond anadlu tipyn bach fydd yn iawn, reit? Fe ‘naiff i ti deimlo’n wirion, dyna’r peth – Ww, mor dwp â’r hen Wncwl ‘na sy wastad yn gwisgo lan a siantio yn y fforest ar bwys yr hen fwthyn glas, neu yn ei seler, dw i’m yn siŵr. Eitha neis na fydd dim wejen ‘da Dai, dyna fyddai’n rhoi sbrag ynddi! O, Staffy ifanc, w, y sil mân sy’n llechu yn y cefndir! Rhaid i ti gredu bydd y pethau ‘ma’n mynd i ddigwydd. Blodeuo a ffynnu ‘nei di – ond, ych a fi, ddylwn i’m gweud ‘ny – dyna eiriau sy’n rhy athronyddol a mawreddog o’r hanner. Jyst gweud byddi di’n ‘neud yn iawn fyddai’n llawer gwell.

 

[Sgrin Deledol] “Ar y cychwyn y bwriedid dangos y murluniau yng Nghadarnle Nefol yr Eglwys Fyd-Eang, ar ôl iddynt gael eu gwrthod gan Dŷ’r Llywodraeth yn y Ddinas Fawr, Ddrwg, ond fe’u hystyrid yn rhy fodern ac aflednais oblegid yr holl gnawd noethlymun. Erbyn hyn, fodd bynnag, cefndir gogoneddus o afieithus i lawer o’r gweithgareddau fydd yn digwydd y tu mewn i ganolfan ddinesig Aberdydd ydynt. Fe gyfareddir pawb fydd yn bwrw llygad trostynt gan y delweddau arallfydol. Serch hynny, rhy arswydus i’w weld heb baratoad arbennig, yw un o’r paneli, sef ‘Shaman-no yn adrodd y Saith Air Angheuol.’”

 

[David] Yn sydyn, yn ôl yn y presennol – dyna floeddio a rhegi lawr staer – nage peth anghyffredin yn y tŷ ‘ma, David bach, rwy’n meddwl wrth ‘yn hunan wrth ruthro mas o’r ‘stafell wely. Mae’r lleuad lem yn syllu ar bopeth gan geryddu’n syn, wedyn, wedi ystyried am ychydig, mae’n gwenu mewn ysbryd o gyfeillach. Dyma fi’n agor drws y ffrynt a ‘nghalon yn ‘y ngwddf. Dad sy yma; o ble ma’ ‘di dod mor annisgwyl? Be’ sy ‘di digwydd – ma’ ‘di’i glwyfo’n ofnadw’ – ‘neno Wezir – o’r braidd gall e aros ar ei draed – ma’ gwaed – llifogydd o’r stwff, ym mhob man – sa i’n deall be’ ma’n weud – ma’ cynnwrf o fynd a dod tu mas i’r tŷ – dyna fachgen, fi, wedi’i ‘sgubo i mewn i fan wen yn llaid i gyd – a dyna rywbeth arall – rhywbeth gwlyb a llonydd wedi’i lapio mewn – mewn cwilt? Ydy Dad wedi lladd rhywbeth – neu, rywun? Gyrru am hanner awr, am gwpl o oriau, falle, bydd ofn yn newid amser. A dyna ‘sgubo geiriau’r ddrama drosta i unwaith ‘to – ‘O, arswyd, ddychryn, ysgryd – dyma ffiaidd bwyll – Na ddywed tafod ei enw, na deall calon ei dwyll!’

 

[Steffan] Yn y dyfodol bydd y Prifdechnig yn Nhref Emrallt (wel, y Ddinas Fawr, Ddrwg, fe ddylwn i weud) yn galw arnat ti (nage’r hen Boly-ysgol ofnadw’ yn Aberdydd!). Hmm, roedd Dad yn berwi am wleidyddiaeth bob amser, ac fe fyddai fe wedi dwlu ar dy weld di fel Cynrychiolydd y Werin yn Nhŷ’r Llywodraeth, neu hyd yn oed Gwladweinydd Blaenorol, neu rywbeth. Penderfynu a dal ati fydd y pethau pwysica’. Fi sy’n gwybod bydd rhaid i ti weithio’n galed iawn, 'neud dy orau glas, a mwy, neu dim ond breuddwyd gwrach fydd hyn.

 

[Sgrin Deledol] “Heblaw am ei swyddogaethau gweinyddol, cynhelir seremonïau dinesig, adloniannau, a digwyddiadau cymdeithasol yn y gymhlethfa hon. Ymhlith y defodau y mae cyfarfodydd gwobrwyo ysgolion, a chyflwyniad graddau’r Boly-ysgol.”

 

[David] Dwi’n cael ‘yn mwndelu, wedi’n lapio mewn cynfas waedlyd, fudr, yn sobmi lledfyw, yn aberth hanner marw. Dyna’r gwagle’n gelatineiddio i’n rhwymo i tu fewn i rwyll ludiog wrth i amser drolifo a ffrydio, gan ‘yn nrysu i, a ‘neud i fi ga’l cyfog gwag. Ac wedyn – Hebé gu – dyna r’wbeth yn sblasio’n moch. Fi’n gwingo, gan drio cyffwrdd â’r lle a’i rwbio fe, ond fi’n taenu’r staen, y mefl, dros ‘yn wyneb yn lle. Wedyn, slapiau llithrig i roi taw ar lanc wylofus. Rh'wbeth metel, siŵr o fod – yn lled hir – sticlyd, a ddim yn oer – Ww, miniog iawn – wedi’i hwpo i ‘nwylo. Mae’r gwthio annisgwyl, creulon yn y lleithder trioglyd y tywyllwch yn ‘neud i fi wichian fel llygoden fawr mewn labordy sy newydd gael sioc drydanol.

 

[Steffan] Ond eto i gyd, wel, ti wastad wedi casáu a gwrthwynebu be bynnag mae Dad yn lico. O ran addysg felly, fe allem ni ddweud byddi di’n troi i’r iawn i gael hyd i alwedigaeth. Ar ôl dadlau’n ffyrnig gyda mynach sy’n ffrind i Dad, ac aelod o’r Frawdoliaeth Gwflog, o’r enw Yr Hen Ryfelwr Llwyd, byddi di dros dy ben a’th glustiau mewn cariad â Dewiniaeth Lanaf, a gyrfa gyda’r Eglwys Gywir fydd yn aros. Dychmyga’r delfryd athronyddol, aruchel o ganfod y gwirionedd. Damcaniaeth, ystyried, gweiddi, marwhau, trafod, darostwng, egluro, derbyn. Ac felly fe fyddi di’n cymryd rhan ym mhroses mwya’ hynafol y byd, fel y caiff cysyniadau anghywir, a syniadau ffiaidd yn groes i’r rhai uniongred, yn ogystal â’r iaith sathredig a ddefnyddir gan y werin bobl a’r annysgedig i’w mynegi nhw, eu hysgubo ymaith yn llwyr oddi ar fwrdd y cyfamod, fel y medd Goruchwylwyr yr Eglwys Filwriaethus. A dim ond wedyn bydd gwirionedd, a threfn, a phurdeb, a nerth ysbrydol, drechu. 

 

[Sgrin Deledol] “Yn adeiladau Neuadd y Dre y gellir mynd i Bartïon Geni yng ngolau cannwyll, a Seremonïau Galarnadol i Goffau'r Ymadawedigion. Hefyd, y mae ymddangosiadau gan fandiau rôl-a-roc adfywiedig fel ‘Hebé Lwyd’ (yn eitha anfynych, diolch byth), yn ogystal â chyngherddau traddodiadol, aml (os braidd yn ffwrdd-â-hi) gan Gôr y Cwmni Cudd. Gŵyl Ficingaidd Aberdydd a’r dathliadau blynyddol o’r enw Cyrraedd y Môr-ladron (wedi'u cyfuno'n aml, ac yn afreolus y tu hwnt, fel arfer) ydy enghreifftiau o ddigwyddiadau cymdeithasol a gynhelir ar gyfer hwyl y cyhoedd.”

 

[Steffan] Ond, serch ‘ny, mae moddau’r fath athroniaeth farddonol, prosesau dewiniaeth fentrus, technegau’r Gwaith Mawr, mor anhrefnus yn eu hanfod, mor anfoddhaol. Fe fydd gormod o gyfleoedd i fod yn ansicr, i ‘neud camgymeriadau. Bydd rhaid i ti fod yn ofalus – paid ag ymlid y cysgod a cholli’r sylwedd – rhag i ti dy golli dy hunan mewn trobyllau affwysol synfyfyrio. Gan ‘ny, o ystyried popeth yn fanwl iawn byddi di’n casglu bydd rhaid i ti ganolbwyntio ar rifoleg, ar batrymau. Wedi’r cwbl, dyna’r meddwl dynol yn ymarfer ei allu creadigol ucha’, gan lawenhau yn defnyddio’i fedrau ysblennydd.

 

[Sgrin Deledol] “Ers i’r Asiantaeth Ddarlledu Annibynnol Genedlaethol gomisiynu’r gyfres deledu eithriadol o boblogaidd o’r enw ‘Oddi mewn i’r Cysgodion’ gan Mamrick, ffilmiwyd sawl pennod y tu mewn i’r cyfadeilad —”

 

[David] Nage’r act ola’ ydy, nage’n wir, ddim o bell ffordd, ond y digwyddiad ‘ma fydd yn seilio’n tynghedau ni i gyd. Dyna r'w anghenfil musgrell, heglog, bron heb gnawd o gwbl, yn gorweddian yn y cysgod dan y bont dros yr afon gwpl o fedrau bant, a Dad yn trio'n wan 'y ngwthio ma’s o’r cerbyd tuag ato fe – ‘Bysia, fachgen …Cer â’r bocs hud llawn stwff sbesial at ein mêt gorau … draw fan’na …  rheda … cer  .. y twpsyn!’ Yn sydyn, mewn un llaw ma’na flwch snisin hynafol, a’r llall yn dal i gydio mewn dagr du’n ludiog o waed. Dyna fi’n clywed y gorchymyn wrth i ‘nghalon ddyrnu, fel ‘sai ‘mhen i bron â ffrwydro – a ‘sai ‘ny ‘di digwydd, nage fi fyddai’r unig greadur i farw’r noson ‘na, falle.

 

[Steffan] O fe fyddi di’n cysegru dy fywyd i’r ddisgyblaeth ‘ma. A saith fydd dy hoff rif o bell ffordd – y seithfed o Orfoledd-fis oedd pan gest ti d’eni – seithfed dydd y seithfed mis – ‘lly’r Thoahatha (yr Arwr) yw dy arwydd y Sidydd, a Zeydva (y Dyn-Darw) yn codi. A ‘fyd, ceir – y Saith Cethlyddion Call – y Saith Fôr – y Botasau Saith Lig – Saith Trefn Pensaernïaeth – Saith Lliw’r Enfys – Saith Cyfwng mewn Graddfa – Saith Cyfandir. Ac o wybod y daw hyder, medd y Brodyr mewn Gofal yn Athrofa’r Prifdechnig. Ie, rhifoleg, dyna beth fyddi di’n ‘neud, fe ddoi di’n rhifolegwr, rhywun sy’n meddwl, synfyfyrio, creu, egluro, profi, darogan, addysgu. Ac ymhen amser, byddi di’n cyrraedd gradd meddyliaethydd, falle. Wedyn bydd pawb yn difaru be maen nhw di ‘neud o’r blaen.

 

[David] Mae’r twymder, yn ddi-ffrwt o ymosodol, yn ailfeddwl 'yn mygu i wrth i fi gynnig y cas sbeisys i’r bwgan rhithiol yn gori ar drothwy’r Ddau Fyd. Ond wedyn dyna lais gwan, ceintachlyd Dad yn torri ar draws, fel chwythiad o oerni atgas, brau, yn ‘y nghnoi – geiriau’n syth o lygad y ffynnon yn wir – ac mae’n swnio fel bod ei ysbryd yn cyflym ‘sigo – ‘Dere ‘mlaen, fab – y gyllell, dyna hi – rho ffling iddi hi i’r afon ddrewllyd – rhaid i ni uno metel a dŵr – brysia, er mwyn Lushfé!’ A, wel, sa i’n siŵr, ond wrth gwrs, dyna be’ fe ‘na i. Ac y tro hwn, yn wir, fi sy eisiau lladd, â’n holl galon, a meddwl, ac enaid. A dyna fi’n siantio dro ar ôl dro, ‘Tyrd, gad im’ dy gythru. Ni’th ddaliaf, ond fe’th ddaliaf di yn wir.’

 

[Steffan] Yn wir, dyna pam gest ti dy eni, siŵr o fod. O, sut beth fydd byw ymhlith yr ieuenctid prydferth, peniog, sêr y nefoedd, wrth ddysgu, trafod, tywynnu megis golau llachar mewn byd niwlog, datgelu gwirionedd, hedfan cyfuwch, yn agos at yr Haul, hyd yn oed, fel Thethalu a’i mab Ithru yn dianc o’r lluoedd anfad gyda’u hadenydd o bapur, cwyr selio, a chorden [*]. Rwyt ti’n amau na fydd gen ti’r gallu, y ddawn; fyddi’m yn llwyddo. Byddi di’n gweithio mor galed, fel na fydd yr arholiadau i gyd yn ormod. Dim ond o dro i dro fe gei di dy demtio gan y sbeis syfrdanol ‘na o Sanjibaar fydd yr Hen Ryfelwr Llwyd yn roi i ti fel gelli di gael gwelidigaethau o ogoniant, rwy’n addo. Dwyt ti’m eisiau gadael i’r cyfle lithro drwy dy fysedd, neu aberthu dy fywyd yn ofer, wyt ti?

 

[David] Ac yna, ar ôl gyrru am dragwyddoldeb, mae'n ymddangos, ar lan yr afon, tu blaen i’r Tŷ Glas o hen fri sy mor brydferth, wrth i fi – David ar drothwy ei ddyndod – daflu’r gyllell waedlyd i’r dŵr mud, dyna Lushfé a’i adenydd flamllyd ar led yn darllen 'yn meddyliau, ac mae’n dod yn gwbl ddirybudd mewn ateb i’r alwad fel seren wib yn torri ar draws yr awyr afluniaidd gan gario’i gelfydd eirias. A dyna Dad yn llafurio bwffian ar ei ffag ola’ erioed dan deimlo'n saff, siŵr o fod, yn y Weriniaeth Ddeheuol Niwtral, wrth i Hebé y gaseg esgyrnog, rithiol brancio’n wyllt ar wynt y dymestl. Ac fel arfer mae hi wedi bradychu dyn i ddwylo’r Saith gyda’i haddewidion sy’n cynnwys elfen o wirionedd, ac ar y llaw arall, ei hanner celwyddau.

 

A dyna Dad yn taflu’i smôc i lawr, wedi’i flino’n llwyr. Am funud, eiliad, chwinciad, dw i’n llygadrythu arno fe, a chasineb oer ac mor finiog â rasel, yn fy nghalon, wrth i’r pwll o betrol ledu oddi dan y fan. Pam mae'n gollwng y stwff fel 'na, fydda i fyth yn gwbod. Rhai sy di dweud taw magl ffŵl gydag amserydd araf o ryw fath neu rywbeth oedd hi, ta be. Dwn i'm. Ond dyna fe’n diflannu’n wir, unwaith ac am byth – y dyn ‘na oedd yn glyfar, gorffwyll, a chreulon ar yr un pryd – â chlec daranllyd a fflach lachar sy'n tanio'r byd, gan ‘yn byddaru i ‘fyd. Dw i’n cael ‘yn hyrddio i’r afon ddu, lonydd, ac ar ei hwyneb ddarnau o’r fan, a thalpiau o gnawd dynol ar dân. Ac ar ôl hyn, ni fydda i byth yn gweld, na chlywed, ‘y Nhad cythreulig, gwaedlyd yn fyw eto. Mae wedi esgyn i ogoniant yn ddiseremoni, allech chi weud – nage yn ôl ei gynlluniau diafolaidd dyrys, wrth gwrs – ond ar hap yn llwyr. Dyna’r cyfan. Dim ond yn hwyrach o lawer sylweddolais i taw deliwr cyffuriau fuodd e drwy’r amser – gan fy llusgo i gyda fe a’i gyfeillion troseddol, brwnt fan hyn fan draw, i wledydd eraill, cartrefi eraill, teuluoedd eraill, bywydau eraill, dros y cefnforoedd dirfawr, ffrwythlon, creulon, hyd yn oed. Ac er i fi oroesi, fe wyddwn i’n rhy fuan taw fi sy wedi ‘nghreithio’n enbyd yn y ffrwydrad.

 

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Yn y dyfodol, yn rhywle arall yn llwyr, dyna aer drewllyd rhyw seler yn heidio o endidau tanllyd, fyrdd. Maen nhw’n galw’r tarw aberthol, priodol i ddefod aileni y mae’r Hen Filwr yr Hen Ryfelwr Llwyd, sy’n credu taw gwir feistr cyfrinachau ydy, wedi’i chychwyn. Fe fydd y darpar offrwm hwn, Steffan Grossmann, sy’n drist, call, ac enfawr ar yr un pryd, yn mynd i ddarparu’r galon a’r grym bywiol i’r un a fu, ac a fydd drachefn, nes y bodola ef yn yr amser a ddaw fel y bodolai fe yn y gorffennol pell. Ac wedyn dyna’r cysgodion rheibus yn llyncu’r dyn, sy’n ŵr gwyryf, ac a oedd ar fedr ei ladd ei hun ar un adeg – gan ei gludo fe tuag at Ddydd y Farn mae wedi'i ddewis ar ei gyfer ei hun. Heb sŵn, heb symud, heb newid – mae’n cael ei ddileu o fodolaeth ar wyneb y Ddaear – ‘does ‘na ddim twll, na bwlch; dim ond diffyg sydd bellach, lle mai llawnder fu gynt.

 

 

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[*] Sawl Sylw Perthnasol (Eofn) gan Mrs B Grossmann. Er gofid difrifol, rhaid i fi drin â mater penodol iawn yma a thynnu’ch sylw at “Cymeradwyaeth Esgyniad Ei Wychder Eithaf Awroraidd, Kyning Newydd Cyntaf Pretania Fwyaf.” Dyma oedd litwrgi hynafol o’r radd flaenaf wedi’i lunio a’i drefnu gan Hyhi-Nas-Enwir, Arwres Etifeddol y Ffon Wthio Ddurol. Y ddoethwraig arallfydol, gyfareddol a dichellgar hon o dramor oedd, meddai rhai, Dendrah, Addolwr Anhepgor Wrilya’r Neidr (yr Hydra sanctaidd hunllefus, yn gysegredig gan Gwlt yr Afr Gynben), neu Txnxlí, Ceidwad y Crochan Copr. Roedd eraill yn janglo mai Thethalu, Māter Malefica i’r Plentyn Coronog a Threchol oedd hi, ac iddi gael ei thaflu allan o’r nefoedd a’i bwrw i lawr i lyn o dar berw ar ein Daear ni ar yr union ddiwrnod – ar yr un eiliad – yr holltodd y Lleuad yn ddwy a diffodd, i bob golwg. (Am amryw resymau – tra annymunol – deuai hi (Djlenya, dyna beth rwy’n ei galw hi) – a’r Cwb Crwydrol – i gael cysylltiad rhy agos o lawer â ni yma yn fy hoff Fadws – hynny yw, y Clinig – yn nes ymlaen).

 

Datganwyd mai’r digwyddiad mwyaf pwysig a brofwyd erioed yn nheyrnas realedd er i’r Cyfanrwydd Integredig ei drefnu ei hun a chreu arwyddocâd oedd y Ddefod Dderbyn wedi’i chynnal yn y Neuadd Sefydlu un pwrpas a gwallgof o ddrud. Cyhoeddodd y Ffon Wthio Ddurol ei bod hyd yn oed yn fwy allweddol na diwedd hegemoni’r Yarliaid gormesol, ac yn anhraethol fwy tyngedfennol nag unrhyw ddigwyddiad o gwbl ym mywyd pob un o’r plebs oedd wedi crafu byw erioed ar bridd gwywedig yr Ynysoedd Glân. Defnyddiwyd y rhesymeg wyrgam hon i gyfiawnhau’r gwariant gwarthus o afradlon a’r rhodres anghynnil, hyd yn oed tra oedd mwyafrif y boblogaeth yn crebachu, yn nychu, ac yn edwino, fel petaen nhw dan felltith y tair ellylles Yokinimil, Virulimil, a Kavilimil, hynny yw, rhyfel, newyn, a phla.

 

Luniwyd y ddefod gan ddefnyddio’r dyfeisgarwch seremonïol eithaf i fod yn llawn o rwysg amgylchiadol, arucheledd bendigedig, rhyfeddod anhygoel, gogoniant serennog, doethineb disylwedd gwreiddiol, a gobaith hen ffasiwn yn gyforiog o lwch. Fe’i cynlluniwyd yn fanwl gywir i gynhyrchu parch, i allfwrw cysgod ail-ddehongli ôl-syllol, i atal tanseilio awdurdod sefydlog, ac i ennyn a smentio cydsyniad. Cafodd pob rhan ei pharatoi a’i hamseru’n daclus yn unol â rhaglen berffaith nes na fyddai dim byd o’i le, dim negyddoldeb, a dim posibilrwydd o fefl. Roedd o’r pwys mwyaf na fyddai modd yn y byd i’r Kyning brofi’r awgrym lleiaf o ddiflastod, rhag ofn iddo deimlo’n flin neu wedi’i sarhau, a thaflu’r Teyrndlysau (yn frith o gwarts rhosliw, emraldiau’r eryrod, opalau tân, perlau duon a thopasau) o’i Bram enfawr goreurog. (Roedd ei wylltio aml a dieflig yn ddigywilydd o ran eu hanlladrwydd a’u ffyrnigrwydd).

 

Yn bresennol, roedd Mân Dywysogion a Thywysogesau o Dywysogaethau Zazkne, Windelóra, Vásneverk, Tyurinke, Hódhá, Hey-tíyn, Góvughrkh ac Eldnevrow yn Eangderau Uffernol y Gogledd-Orllewin. Gorfoleddu hefyd yr oedd gormodedd o bendefigion yn cynnwys eglwyswyr, landlordiaid, masnachwyr ac uwch-gapteniaid o Dewdre, a llengoedd o ddeddfroddwyr, gweinidogion, gwleidyddion llygradwy a phynditiaid o Dredafwys, Glyn-y-Blodau, Glwysgwlff, a Ruchelfa. Yr eisin ar y Gacen Goroni oedd presenoldeb Baronisa Lowdun Glodwiw, Dukissa Díhrzbí Hyglod, Ekwes Yeruhl Ddigymar, Komes Kéhrengtún Odidog, Markhionissa Tshumlí Ogoneddus, Proregina Skrimjóh Ragorol, a Wikekomes Welíbyuhr Hybarch. Gorfodid pob un o’r Prif Weinidogion a Rhieni’r Genedl yn dal i fyw i gymryd rolau amlwg yn hollol ddi-dâl er mawr siom iddyn nhw. Ac er câi’r Hanfodoldeb Anesboniadwy ei arddeisyf yn ddigon mynych i ddychryn y ddau Sant Rhyfelgar ar bymtheg a thrigain yn ystod y gwasanaeth, gweinyddwyr bydol a wnâi hyn. Ni châi clerigwyr yr EFE ond lercian, sgrialu a chynffonna, penlinio a llafarganu fel y gorchmynnid iddyn nhw wneud yn y cyfarwyddiadau gweithredol tra manwl. (Ar wahân, wrth reswm, i un swyddogaeth hollbwysig yn ymwneud â’r Cosmopolitan Seremonïol – gweler isod.) Dyma Drefn y Gwasanaeth lawn.

 

1. Y Gydnabyddiaeth. Llygad yr Orsedd (Meistres y Seremonïau): Peneèndzy Morghdàny, Tywysydd Urddasol â’r Ffust Fflamllyd, wedi’i hebrwng gan y Fam Beraroglus ac Arlwywraig Persawrau. Introitus “Dihunwch, Codwch, Ymysgwydwch: Y Dyddiau Olaf sydd Gerllaw!” Swyddog Llywyddol: Uhruhshí Tchyunaka, Cludwr y Clwpa Crisial. Arweinydd yr Orymdaith: Llywodraethwr yr Urdd Wregysog. Cludyddion yr Offer Reiol: Gwarchodwr y Llinach Ogoneddus (Carreg Sicrwydd); Rhaglyw’r Groes Rosliw (Mantell Cyfiawnder); Arglwydd y Siôl Saffirlas (Ffon Goddefgarwch). Cyflwyniad (CCC): “Cyflwynaf y Kyning diamheuol. Canmoled pawb yr Hanfod Anweledig.” Ymateb: “Boed felly!” Ffanffer.

 

2. Yr Arwisgiad. Hey-Antífōna: “Codwch Eich Lleisiau i Ymbil, O Anffodusion Di-werth Cyndyn.” Swyddog Llywyddol ac Arweinydd yr Orymdaith: Y Blaenaf Distain, Ontyónya Bláblahr. Cludyddion yr Offer Reiol: Y Rheolwr Dinesig Ardderchog (Caregl Dioddefgarwch); Y Cyfarwyddwr Clerigol a Seciwlar (Paten Amddiffyniad); Cynullydd y Cynulliad Cyfansoddiadol (Breichledau Diffuantrwydd). Llw Arwisgiad y Kyning: “Myfi, eich Teyrn Boneddicaf a Rhadlonaf, sydd yn ymgreinio o flaen y Deallusrwydd Anwybodadwy, ac yn arddel, tystio a datgan awdurdod anwadadwy hierarchaeth a gweinidogion yr Eglwys Fyd-Eang, yr unig ffydd, crefydd ac eglwys sydd wir, a blaenoriaeth ei hathrawiaethau ym mhob mater ysbrydol.” Ymateb: “Bydded felly!” Ffanffer.

 

3. Yr Eneiniad Cysegr-lân: Ho-Thréynos “Mwy Chwerw na Denatoniwm ydy Cyfaddef Fy Nhroseddau.” Swyddog Llywyddol: Leskov Börslavr Pfpfelyuk jon-Stanlíy, Arglwydd Lywydd y Tribiwnlys Consistori Aruchaf, Ysgrifennydd, Llais a Llaw’r Pŵer Anoresgynnol. Arweinydd yr Orymdaith: Sywedydd Sgolastig Swffragan Seintwar Serenedd Syn. Cludyddion yr Offer Reiol: Cardinal-oruchwyliwr y Colegau (Ampwl Awdurdod); Prior Presbyteri’r Personiaid Puraf (Y Grism Garismatig) [ꝋ]; Y Caplan Cosbol (Colomen Ddioptas Tynghedfen); Y Pregethwr Anghymharol (Llwy Toreth). Yr Eneiniad Cysegr-lân: Cosmopolitan Seremonïol a’r Kyning (wedi’u celu rhag llygaid cableddus). Llw Eneinio’r Kyning: “Ymdynghedaf i gynrychioli’r wlad fwyaf anrhydeddus hon yn dymhorol â’m holl ewyllys ymerodrol, fy holl ddeall, fy holl ragwelediad, a’m holl nerth, heb ildio i uchelwr na gwerinwr, nac i rym ysgymun neu fydol, nac estron na brodorol.” Ymateb: “Bid felly!” Ffanffer. [ꝋ] Dyma bast gloyw o lawryf, llysiau’r gwewyr, mêl, olew olewydd a phetalau rhosod sydd arlliw o wyrdd mor dywyll â dail palmwydd a ffa duon.

 

4. Y Coroni. Éleēsatō: “Difodwch Fi, O Feddwl Tragwyddol Bendigaid, Rhag I’m Niffygion Niferus Niweidio’r Byd Hwn yn Tywyll Losgi Rhagor.” Swyddog Llywyddol ac Arweinydd yr Orymdaith: Yaha-kow Bherhd, Banerwr y Sawter Sanctaidd. Cludyddion yr Offer Reiol: Cadeirydd Awdurdodol y Brawdlysoedd (Coron Crandrwydd); Uwch Siryf y Siroedd Oll (Pêl Rwtheniwm Hollalluogrwydd); Goruchaf Arolygydd y Morffyrdd (Teyrnwialen Paladiwm Treiddgarwch). Llw Coroni’r Kyning: “Taeraf mai cynnal a chynyddu sadrwydd, cryfder, gogoniant a chyfiawnder cynhenid anniffoddadwy Undeb Ddiamheuol ac Annatod Tiriogaethau Pretania Fwyaf a wnaf.” Ymateb: “Felly y bo!” Ffanffer.

 

5. Y Gorseddu. Glōria: “Ie, Er y Llysg Pob Byd, Ymarhosa’r Cwintesens Anrhanadwy.” Swyddog Llywyddol ac Arweinydd yr Orymdaith: Dodjí “Pen Mochyn” Bentbeak, Arglwydd Ychwanegol yr Hosan Sidan. Cludyddion yr Offer Reiol: Perchen y Paraffernalia Pennaidd (Yr Eryr Enargit Egnïol); Legad y Can Herodr Histrionig (Durfenyg Difrifwch); Gogyfurdd y Porthcwlis Parhaol (Gwaywffon Goruchafiaeth). Llw Gorseddu’r Kyning: “Myfi, megis Pennaeth Teitlog yr Ymerodraeth Binc a Darpar Bencadfridog y Fyddin Lân, sydd ymhellach yn addo y brwydraf hyd at ddinistriad fy nghorf cnawdol tros ailsefydlu ffynhonnell aruchel pob peth gwareiddiedig, yr Imperium Roseum Hynaf a Mwyaf Rhyfeddol.” Ymateb: “Boed felly!” Ffanffer.

 

6. Ymostyngiad y Werin Bobl. Diēs īrae: “Tawdd Cnawd, Mala Esgyrn a Berwa Gwaed tra Ysir y Gwreichionyn Coll Hwn gan y Golau Dihafal.” Swyddog Llywyddol: Théyrā Mayáas, Pwrswifant y Pwysigyn Perffaith (yn cario Gwialen Aur Cyfoeth a Byrllysg Arian Meistrolaeth). Arweinydd yr Orymdaith: Se-leyn Saxbí, Uchel Dywysydd â’r Ffon Ddu, wedi’i hebrwng gan Gludwyr Bachgennaidd Balmau, Baneri a Phwysïau. Yn Bresennol: Gwerinwyr wedi’u Cadarnhau trwy Nawdd; Gosgordd y Dilynwyr Carpiog wedi Ymddeol; Taeogion wedi’u Breintio trwy Hawlen (yn ymgreinio a chynffonna yn eu lifrai gwcrychodd [Ᵹ] tomlyd ac yn cario afalau taffi gourmet, elyrch iâ esoterig, meddyginiaethau homeopathig holliachaol, a stydiau tafod dur di-staen amhrisiadwy [Ꝿ]). [Ᵹ] Aruniad ffiaidd o goch a gwyrdd. [Ꝿ] Pob eitem wedi’i chynhyrchu trwy lafur caethion ar Ystâd Corryn Du’r Kyning.

     Galwad i Ymostwng (PPP): “Syrthiwch ar eich gliniau, felly, y werin a’r miloedd ledled y Ddaear Ddrwg, gerbron Heddychwr Parth Glas y Skalba, Rhaglywiaid Parth Coch Kimbria, Uwch-arglwyddi Parth Gwyrdd Eirw, a Gwaredwyr Parth Pinc Ilkendir! Telwch Deyrnged â chorff a meddwl, llais ac ysbryd, i’r Kyning diymwad.” Gwrogaeth y Glob Gron: “Myfi, yn fy nistadledd, sydd yn gofyn caniatâd i ostwng yn fy ngarrau a llyfu’r llwch gerbron y Kyning, Awtocrat Cydnabyddedig Pretania Fwyaf a’r Byd i Gyd, ac Ymerawdwr Gohiriedig yr Ymerodraeth Binc. Rwy’n addo ufudd-dod llwyr iddo’n fechdeyrn bydol diamheuol. Rwy’n cynnig teyrngarwch cyflawn iddo ac i bob peth a pherson sydd wedi hanu, neu a fydd yn tarddu, ohono, dan gosb gwahaniad terfynol oddi wrth y Pŵer Cosmig a dihenydd eithaf.” Ymateb: “Bydded felly!” Ffanfer. Y Gwawd [felly — P.M.] Urddo: “Pob Clod i Arglwydd yr Holl Fyd; Trugarhao’r Nerth Dihysbydd Wrthym y Rhai Annheilyngaf.”

 

7. Y Gymeradwyaeth Wiw. Jūbilāte: “O Ddiddymdra y Deuthum; I Ebargofiant y Disgynnaf Drachefn.” Swyddog Llywyddol ac Arweinydd yr Orymdaith: Cludwr y Clwpa Crisial. Cludyddion yr Offer Reiol: Cwnsler Llysol y Canghellor (Cleddyf Brawd); Y Maer Teyrnasol (Modrwy Doethineb); Uwch Ysgrifennydd y Sêl (Saethau Dealltwriaeth). Sēo-Antefn: “Anrhydedd Oll i’r Unig Eglwys Wir, O’r Hon yn Unig y Llifa Gollyngdod.” Ffanfer. Cymeradwyaeth gan y Pendefigion: “Byw fyddo’r Kyning! Y Fodolaeth Anhraethadwy a gynhalio’r Kyning! Boed i rin y Kyning esgyn i gyd-doddi â Tharddell Ddiwahaniaeth Bod yn yr Amser Fydd.” Ymateb: “Bid felly!” Ffanffer.

 

8. Y Gollyngiad: Missiō: “Ewch Allan i Ledaenu Fel y Duaf Tar Llyncfawr; Gorfodwch ar Bawb y Gwir Arswydol.” Anfoniad Difrifddwys (Cludwr y Clwpa Crisial): “Ymaith! Na phechwch rhagor, droseddwyr dirwymedi! Brysiwch i wireddu geiriau’r Eglwys Unigryw; i fawrygu’r Kyning a’r Kwén; ac i ymroi gorff ac enaid i hyrwyddo Pretania Fwyaf ac i Adfer yr Ymerodraeth Binc.” Ymateb: “Felly y bo!” Ffanffer. Mae Tywysydd Urddasol â’r Ffust Fflamllyd yn danfon yr Orymdaith o’r Neuadd Sefydlu yn unol â rheolau blaenoriaeth newydd eu sefydlu.

 

Cyn i’r halibalŵ atgas gychwyn, cymerodd y Deddfwyr Diwerth gamau ar hast i ffrwyno eneidiau a meddyliau, lleisiau ac aelodau fyddai’n gwrthwynebu, atal anghydfod, ac amddiffyn Cytgord Cysegredig y Kyning a’r Kwén rhag gwrthryfel poblogaidd a therfysg treisiol. O ganlyniad, cafodd “Cyhoeddeb dros Ddileu Diamod Anarchiaeth Wrthgymdeithasol” newydd ei gwthio drwy Neuaddau Annidwyll y Ddeddfwrfa hyd yn oed yn fwy byrbwyll a blêr nag arfer. Rhoddwyd i’r Siambrau Dinesig Rhanbarthol dros Ddogma, Deddfoldeb, Disgyblu a Dial bwerau dewisol bron yn anghyfyngedig (ac yn anrheoledig). Gosododd Adrannau’r Trigolion Teyrngar cyrffyw ar y werin, er bod llawer iawn ohonyn nhw’n hypothermig, wedi’u hysu gan y pla manwynnog, wedi diharffo, neu bob un o’r tri. Cafodd cyffrowyr disgwyliedig eu harestio a’u harteithio (diberfeddwyd rhai, ond, diolch i’r drefn, heb gael eu lladd o leiaf). Cafodd y pen-bradwyr ‘na y casglwyd iddyn nhw allu amharu ar y dathliad seithug mewn unrhyw ffordd eu coleru, eu cipio ymaith, a’u crogi’n rhagataliol.

 

Darlledwyd y Ddefod Dderbyn i gyd yn ddi-dor i bob annedd ym Mhretania am undydd a blwyddyn ar ôl yr Arwisgiad, gyda’r bwriad o adsefydlu taeogaeth, dysgu ymostyngiad, gorfodi cydymffurfiad, a meithrin caethwasiaeth. (Fe feiddiai rhai cobiau dewr furmur dan eich dannedd fod yr awdurdodau dan warchae’n trio mynd â sylw oddi ar Afradlondeb Pengryf y Partïon Di-ball wedi’i gyflawni gan y Bagad Diffaith o Benaduriaid Dichellgar.) Anterth honedig yr holl ribidirês gyfoglyd oedd, wrth gwrs, yr Alwad i Ymostwng, a Gwrogaeth y Glob Gron wedi’i pherfformio’n symbolaidd dros y dorf gan y Dilynwyr Ymddeoledig, y Gwerinwyr Conffirmedig, a’r Taeogion Breintiedig. Ond, yn hynny o beth, methodd y Penaduriaid Paternalistig yn druenus, ac yn wir, difethwyd eu cynlluniau ysgeler drwyddo draw.

 

Oherwydd, yng nghanol y “gorffwylltra brenhinol,” doedd neb yn nhwnelau trasig na thyrau halog Tŷ’r Llywodraeth wedi sylweddoli bod pob agwedd ar y Ddefod Dderbyn wedi’i thrwytho mewn ymarferion anfad nas gwyddid amdanynt erioed hyd at hynny gan ran helaethaf y Byd, yn seiliedig ar ddefnydd enwau, seiffrau, siapau ac ystumiau trawsfydol. Wedi’r cwbl, roedd y trefnwyr a’r cyfansoddwyr wedi derbyn – cyngor – gan Dendrah Txnxlí Thethalu ei hun, yn ôl y sôn. (Dyma’r hanes hanner swyddogol erbyn hyn o leiaf. O’m rhan i, fe fyddwn i’n dyfalu bod yr holl sioe’n cynnwys talp ych-a-fi o feddyliaeth a ffaneroneg – a dyna lwyth o lol gyfrin gachu i chi! Ond peidiwch hidio am hynny nawr.) Beth bynnag, fe sibrydai dyn, fe gynhwysai union sylwedd Cymeradwyaeth Esgyniad doreth o fantrâu tra effeithiol at alw ar heidiau o endidau echryslon. Bwriadid – meddai rhai – y byddai’r fformiwlâu ocwlt hyn yn ennyn y Sarff Gwsg yn ei Thŷ Di-droi’n-ôl ar ben yr-Heol-nad-â-i-Unman, nes y codai drwy’r dyfroedd anymwybodol tywyll i ymdorchi fel cordenni clymog mewn gwêr tawdd, gan boeri ei gwenwyn achubol.

 

Yma, rwy’n crynhoi dadansoddiad y perfformiaday achlysurol gan Áhntí Semìfora. Mae’r dilyniannau cordiau cychwynnol estynedig yn grwnan rhoch angau dybiedig y cosmos – “gzurkhw bwzhw, ksilka veza, hethihila fese” – sy’n cynrychioli galwad y Gwacter y tu fewn i bob un ohonom ni. Mae’r adran ganolog yn dechrau wrth gonsurio’n odidog boen, galar ac anobaith bodolaeth, ond eto’n eu trawsffurfio’r rhain yn gôr polyffonig yn dathlu ymdrech, dygnwch a buddugoliaeth. Mae’r rhan hon yn defnyddio leitmotifau’n darlunio carw, cadno, brân, blaidd a hebog wrth iddyn nhw fyw, a marw, a chael eu hail-eni sawl gwaith drosodd trwy wyliau cynoesol hanner ffordd rhwng y dyddiau pentymor – Kántwilwelos, Bróytenwelos, Tórthwelos a Sámonwelos – dan nawdd y cytserau Hustwr y Dyfrhäwr, Zeydva, y Dyn-darw, Lakhmw Brenin y Cathod Brithion, ac Ak-rabw yr Arachnid Anturus. Llenwir y darn olaf â lleisio “awmha,” hadsain greadigol bodolaeth oll, wedi’i hysgythru ar Ddrysau hirgolledig Hwedenel y Gwyliwr. Mae’r llafarganu llesmeiriol, ailadroddol yn deffro teimladau o undod â phob bod, heddwch a bodlondeb, ynghyd ag ewyllys di-ildio i oresgyn pob gorthrymwyr ac adsefydlu cyfiawnder a chydraddoldeb ym mhob dull a modd.

 

Er mwyn eu paratoi at y “deffro llechwraidd” cafodd y lluoedd eu cyfarwyddo gan Ddewiniaid cudd i’w puro eu hunain â dŵr rhedegog oer, taflu halen ym mhob twll a chornel yn eu tai i amsugno endidau adwythig, a llosgi’r perlysieuyn grymus Aglaeribos oliofotis i ddwysáu eu hymwybyddiaeth. Wrth i’r cleddyf fflamllyd marwol godi i hollti’r awyr fyglyd a tharo cramen greigiog y Ddaear ddiwedd pob dydd, gan uno’r byd uchaf â’r un isaf, cafodd yr hylif coch merllyd yng ngwythiennau’r Celanedd Byw ei lenwi gan yr arogldarth meddwol a bwyd a dŵr bywyd. Bob adeg (fe honnir), coden nhw fel un gŵr, a thân du-wyrdd olewaidd yn arllwys o geg a thrwyn, i oslefu’r erfyniad trosgynnol lledneilltuo, “IA-ADU-EN-I ~ I-NE-UDA-AI,” sy’n crynhoi’r modd y cwyd newydd-deb i ddymchwel y drefn hirsefydlog, dim ond i ail-greu ffyrdd hynafol ar siâp amgen cyn mynd ‘yn ôl i ebargofiant drachefn.

 

Yn wir, gwasgaru egin dyhead a throi cawl gwrthryfel mewn calonnau crynedig, eneidiau syrthlyd ac aelodau parlysedig a wnaeth yr holl swyngyfaredd ystrywgar hon, pa beth bynnag arall a wnâi. Yn betrus, yn anfodlon, ac yn ddifeddwl – ac nid heb gystudd hirbarhaol – dechreuodd y giwed weddnewid mewn ffyrdd i arswydo yn eu cylch. Wel, roedd y Triawd Twyllodrus o Grefydd, Llywodraeth a Mercantiliaeth wedi bwriadu mai delwedd y Kyning a’r Kwén a weithiai fel symbol i reoleiddio’r hyn oedd yn real (hynny yw, yn wir, yn foesol, yn dderbyniol, ac yn gall), a’i wahanu oddi wrth bopeth oedd yn ffantastig (hynny yw, yn anwir, yn anfoesol, yn annerbyniol, ac yn anghall). Roedd y real i fod yn ganiataol a chlodwiw mewn cymdeithas, a’r ffantastig yn waharddedig a diystyrllyd. Ac, O, pa mor gandryll oedden nhw pan chwalwyd eu cynlluniau! Penderfynodd y Grŵp Gormesgar losgi’r Byd yn hytrach na chaniatáu i’w gelynion noeth ymhlith rhengoedd y gwrêng ennill. Efallai i Djlenya, Ceidwad y Crochan Copr ac Addolwr Anhepgor Wrilya’r Neidr gael gwireddu ei dymuniadau anesboniadwy wedi’r cwbl, felly. Neu falle ddim.