The Witch of Portobello

I gently removed myself from her embrace and got up.

"You two need to eat."

I went to the kitchen, prepared some onion soup and a dish of tabbouleh, warmed up some unleavened bread, put it all on the table, and we had lunch together. We talked about trivial things, which, at such moments, always help to bring us together and justify our pleasure at being there, quietly, even if, outside, a storm is uprooting trees and sowing destruction. Of course, at the end of that afternoon, my daughter and my grandson would walk out of the door to confront the winds

, the thunder, and the lightning all over again, but that was their choice.

"Mum, you said that you'd do anything for me, didn't you?"

It was true. I would lay down my life if necessary.

"Don't you think I should be prepared to do anything for Viorel too?"

"I think that's a mother's instinct, but instinct aside, it's the greatest proof of love there is."

She continued eating.

"You know that your father is happy to help with this case being brought against you, if you want him to, that is."

"Of course I do. This is my family we're talking about."

I thought twice, three times, but couldn't hold back my words. "Can I give you some advice? I know you have some influential friends--that journalist, for example. Why don't you ask him to write about your story and tell him your version of events? The press are giving a lot of coverage to that vicar, and people will end up thinking he's right."

"So, as well as accepting what I do, you also want to help me?"

"Yes, Sherine. Even though I may not understand you, even though I sometimes suffer as the Virgin must have suffered all her life, even if you're not Jesus Christ with an all-important message for the world, I'm on your side and I want to see you win."

HERON RYAN, JOURNALIST

Athena arrived while I was frantically making notes for what I imagined would be the ideal interview on the events in Portobello and the rebirth of the Goddess. It was a very, very delicate affair.

What I saw at the warehouse was a woman saying, "You can do it, let the Great Mother teach you--trust in love, and miracles will happen." And the crowd agreed, but that wouldn't last long, because we were living in an age in which slavery was the only path to happiness. Free will demands immense responsibility; it's hard work, it brings with it anguish and suffering.

"I need you to write something about me," she said.

I told her that we should wait a little--after all, the whole affair could fade from view the following week--but that, meanwhile, I'd prepared a few questions about Female Energy.

"At the moment, all the fuss and the fighting is only of interest to people in the immediate area and to the tabloids. No respectable newspaper has published a single line about it. London is full of these little local disturbances, and getting into the broadsheets really isn't advisable. It would be best if the group didn't meet for two or three weeks. However, I think that the business about the Goddess, if treated with the seriousness it deserves, could make a lot of people ask themselves some really important questions."

"Over supper that time, you said that you loved me. And now you're not only telling me you don't want to help me, you're also asking me to give up the things I believe in."

How to interpret those words? Was she finally accepting the love I'd offered her that night, and which accompanied me every minute of my life? According to the Lebanese poet Khalil Gibran, it was more important to give than to receive, but while these were wise words, I was part of what is known as "humanity," with my frailties, my moments of indecision, my desire simply to live in peace, to be the slave of my feelings and to surrender myself without asking any questions, without even knowing if my love was reciprocated. All she had to do was to let me love her; I was sure that Hagia Sofia would agree with me. Athena had been passing through my life now for nearly two years, and I was afraid she might simply continue on her way and disappear over the horizon, without my having even been able to accompany her on part of that journey.

"Are you talking about love?"

"I'm asking for your help."

What to do? Control myself, stay cool, not precipitate things and end up destroying them? Or take the step I needed to take, embrace her and protect her from all dangers?

My head kept telling me to say, "Don't you worry about a thing. I love you," but instead I said, "I want to help. Please trust me. I'd do anything in the world for you, including saying no if I thought that was the right thing to do, even though you might not understand my reasoning."

I told her that the deputy editor on my newspaper had proposed a series of articles about the reawakening of the Goddess, which would include an interview with her. At first it had seemed to me an excellent idea, but now I saw that it would be best to wait a little. I said, "You either carry your mission forward or you defend yourself. You're aware, I know, that what you're doing is more important than how you're seen by other people. Do you agree?"

"I'm thinking of my son. Every day now he gets into some fight or argument at school."

"That will pass. In a week, it'll be forgotten. That will be the moment to act, not in order to defend yourself against idiotic attacks, but to set out, confidently and wisely, the true breadth of your work. And if you have any doubts about my feelings and are determined to continue, then I'll come with you to the next meeting. And we'll see what happens."

The following Monday I went with her to the meeting. I was not now just another person in the crowd; I could see things as she was seeing them.