Thick blue-grey fog settles about the roots within a large grove of trees. It
seems to crawl around each ancient and wise Oak. A chant can be heard in the
distance, getting louder and more distinct. The Gallic tongue is unfamiliar and
sends a chill through the air while the deep voices cantillate in unison. As if
floating above the earth, white-robed figures emerge from the fog. They form a
circle around a large gilded silver cauldron that until now remained unnoticed.
The leader of these figures lights a fire beneath it, illuminating the thirteen
scenes of eerie figures and misshapen animals that encircle the cauldron. A
bound and blindfolded man of nearly thirty is driven to his knees on the banks
of a bog. He is unable see his own tortured and fiery-haired reflection amongst
those of the white robes on the water before him. Ceremonially ingesting bits
of bread and hazelnuts, he struggles as he is beaten and a garrote is tightened
around his neck. The leader then slits his throat, the blood runs down his bare
chest, stains his sparse white clothing and fox-fur armlet, and he falls
forward into the murky water. The figures turn and disappear into the thick
fog, leaving only the ambers of the cauldron�s fire reflecting on the rippling
water as it slowly heals from the momentary disturbance to its mirrored surface.
~THE YEAR 200 BCE~
Bloody fingers tie grass twine around branches to the tune of tortured screams. Rich Irish soil has turned this pale fiery-haired young man its color. His
hands and feet are dirt, blood, and grass stained. He struggles to form the
knots, as the cries grow louder and more defined. Suddenly, fingers as weakened as his reach out from between the branches. He brushes them aside as the tears stream down his lusterless face. If he stops the creation he will be beaten, or worse, he will end up in the giant wicker man himself. Barely twenty-five, he has the physical ailments of an elderly man and the fears of a small boy. The priests need the wicker man finished by sundown the next day. Pale green eyes have been peering out at him all the while. Sweat and tears adhere wavy auburn locks to the sullen face of this young woman. She will die with all the rest
when the great wooden figure is set ablaze as a sacrifice. He cannot change her
fate, he only hopes that he will escape to save their children.