Magic of the Runes: The Oracle of Apollo
The Oracle of Apollo
After the royal and sacred funerals of Polydorus, the epic warrior who gloriously fell among hamlets and bucklers in a bloody battle, Aeneas the Trojan cut through the boisterous and dreadful sea with his fleet and people. Sailing swiftly, he arrived at the land of Delos, a land of many Hyperborean traditions. Then, blazing with the flame of faith, he consulted the Oracle of Apollo, wisely built upon the hard rock.
Herodotus, in his Histories, Book IV (sections XXXII and XXXIV), comments that the Hyperboreans, who were the ancestors of the Lemurians, periodically sent their sacred offerings wrapped with wheat-straw to Delos. Such venerated offerings had their sacred itinerary very well-marked. Firstly, they passed into the country of Escita, and then towards the Occident, to the Adriatic Sea. This was similar to the route that was followed for the pursuit of amber, from the Baltic sea until the boisterous river Po, then to the Italic Peninsula.
The first among the Greeks to receive the Hyperborean offerings were the Dodonaeans. Then, the Hyperboreans descended from Dodona to the Maliaco Gulf, and after, continued to Euboea and Cariptia.
Ancient legends, lost within the night of the centuries, narrate that these very sacred Nordic offerings continued their voyage from Carystus, skipping Andros. From there, the Carystians carried them to Tenos, and the Tenians to Delos.
The people of Delos wisely said that the Hyperboreans had the beautiful and innocent custom of sending their sacred, divine offerings in the hands of two enchanting and ineffable virgins. The name of one was Hyperoche and the other Laodicea.
The sacred scriptures say that in order to guard these charming and sublime holy women, five initiates or “Perpherees” accompanied them on their long and dangerous voyage.
Nonetheless, all was in vain because these holy men and the two sublime Sibyls were assassinated in the land of Delos as they were accomplishing their mission.
Many beloved and beautiful nubile maidens of that city, filled with pain, cut their hair so they could deposit their curly tresses on a spindle upon a monument that was built in honor of those sacred victims, who (it was said) were accompanied by the Gods Artemis and Apollo.
So, Aeneas arrived at Delos, a most revered place, a place of archaic Hyperborean legends that are hidden as precious jewels in the profound depths of all ages.
While prostrated on the ground and breathing the dust of the centuries, with his heart in pain, Aeneas invoked Apollo, the God of Fire, within that sacred precinct. He begged the God to protect the city that he was going to build, which became the second Trojan Pergamum.
History tells us that as this respectable man gazed in reverence at the God Apollo and asked about the place appointed to settle themselves, the earth began to tremble frightfully. The hero and his people threw themselves to the ground and heard these words of Phoebus Apollo:
"O much-enduring sons of Dardanus, the land which first bore you from your parents’ stock will be the land that will take you back to her rich breast. Seek out your ancient mother. For that is where the house of Aeneas and his sons’ sons and their sons after them will rule over the whole earth."
The epic leader narrates that after hearing the Oracle of Apollo he became worried, wondering what could be this most remote land of his own origin. Then, his elderly father who vividly remembered the ancient family traditions, said:
"Listen, you leaders of Troy, and learn what you have to hope for. In the middle of the ocean lies Crete, the island of great Jupiter, where there is a Mount Ida, the cradle of our race, and where the Cretans live in a hundred great cities, the richest of kingdoms. If I remember rightly what I have heard, our first father Teucer sailed from there to Asia, landing at Cape Rhoeteum, and chose that place to found his kingdom. Troy was not yet standing, nor was the citadel of Pergamum, and they lived low down in the valley."
"This is the origin of the Great Mother of Mount Cybele (the Divine Mother Kundalini), the bronze cymbals of the Corybants, our grove of Ida, the inviolate silence of our worship, and the yoked lions that draw the chariot of the mighty goddess.
"Come then, let us follow where we are led by the bidding of the Gods. Let us appease the winds and set forth for the kingdoms of Cnossus. It is not to far to sail. If only Jupiter is with us, the third day will see our ships on the shores of Crete.
"Rumor (said Aeneas) as she flew told the tale of the great Idomeneus how he had been forced to leave his father’s kingdom and how the shores of Crete were now deserted. Here was a place empty of our enemies, their home abandoned, waiting for us.
"The sailors raised all manner of shouts as they vied with one another in their rowing and my comrades (continued Aeneas) kept urging me to make for Crete and go back to the home of their ancestors. The wind rising astern sped us on our way and we came to shore at last on the ancient land of the Curetes. Impatiently I set to work on walls for the city we all longed for. I called it Pergamea and the people rejoiced in the name."
So, the heroic and terrific people commanded by Aeneas, the illustrious Trojan paladin, could have definitively established themselves on that island, if a malignant disastrous plague had not obligated them to sail over the sea in search of other lands.
In the polluted putrefaction of that ill air, men lost the lives they loved, or dragged around their sickly bodies; the sinister plague disgracefully infected all of their bodies and caused them to fall, fulminated by the ray of death.
The Dogstar (said Aeneas) burned the fields and made them barren, the grass dried, the crops were infected and gave us no food.
A tempest was released in the furious mind of Aeneas and with desperation, as a castaway who clings to a cruel rock, he thought to go back across the sea to the sanctuary of Phoebus Apollo, the God of Fire, and to his oracle at Ortygia, to pray for his gracious favor again. But, that very same night, in those delectable hours in which the body sleeps and the soul travels out of the physical organism within the Superior Worlds, Aeneas found himself with his Phrygian Pennate Gods, the tutelar Genii of his family, the Jinns or Angels of Troy.
The Lords of the Flame spoke these words:
Delian Apollo did not send you to these shores, Crete is not where he commanded you to settle. There is a place - Greeks call it Hesperia - an ancient land, strong in arms and in the richness of her soil. The Oenotrians lived there, but the descendants of that race are now said to have taken the name of their king Italus and call themselves Italians. This is our true home. This is where Dardanus sprang from and his father Iasius from whom our race took its beginning. Rise then with cheerful heart and pass on these words to Anchises your father.
His astonished father then remembered Cassandra, the Trojan prophetess, that grievous woman who made the same prophesy to him before the destruction of the proud Illion. None had believed her prophecies, since Apollo was punishing her.
This noble woman whose name was Cassandra, who was so blessed and adored, paid a very singular type of karma for having wrongly used her divine faculties in her past lives.
Thus, the legend of the centuries tells us that Aeneas and his people, without wasting time, set sail upon their ships to run before the wind over the vast ocean towards the lands of Lacinium.