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 A Tale of Ancient Greece

Of all the gods, the poet Simonides held a deep devotion to the Divine Twins, Castor and Polydeukes, known as the Dioskouroi, “Zeus' lads,” and was wont to offer to them regularly.

Now, these same Twin Gods are of ancient lineage, having been known to the ancestors some 5000 years ago, and are widely worshiped among all the Indo-European peoples, from Ireland to India. Known as the Divine Horsemen, they were everywhere accounted the Saviors of Humanity. Indeed, the Tribe of Witches honor them to this day.

Now, it so happened that Simonides was commissioned to write an ode in honor of a certain Thessalian nobleman's son, who had won the crown in boxing at the Olympics. He duly presented the ode at the nobleman's victory feast, but the host was not pleased.

“You poets and your damned mythological allusions,” he said. “You spent more time eulogizing Castor and Polydeukes than you did my son.” (Polydeukes, called Pollux by the Romans, was famed as a boxer.) The upshot of the matter was that he refused to pay Simonides more than half of the agreed-upon fee.

“Maybe the Dioskouroi will make up the rest,” he added archly. This was thought a fine joke by some.

Some time later, back in Athens, Simonides was called to the door.

“Two men on horseback want to see you,” the door-keeper told him. “They say it's urgent.”

My boyfriend that summer was also named Steve, so naturally we became “the Steves” to everyone that knew us.

Ah, the things straight people never have to put up with.

That was a Rocky Horror summer. At his favorite consignment shop, Steve had found a wedding gown and veil that he couldn't wait to wear in public, so I rented a tux and we got ready to run down the aisle during the Midnight Showing. We even handed out rice in the lobby before the doors opened.

It so happened that a local news outlet was there that night, doing a local-interest piece on the Rocky Horror phenomenon. Of course they wanted to film the happy couple running hand-in-hand down the aisle amid cascades of rice. For that they needed our permission.

“Are you out to your parents?” Steve asked me, sidelong. Having your family find out that you're gay via the local news is probably not the best way to go about it.

“Not yet,” I said, grimacing. “Are you?”

He shook his head.

Our eyes met.

There were once two brothers who had a falling-out.

If the stories once told why, they no longer do. Perhaps it was over a woman.

(Probably it was over a woman. Why else do brothers fall out?)

The end of it was, that one brother killed the other. This was the first kin-slaying that ever there was in the world.

Well, but hear what came of it.

From his head he made the priest-kind: those that remember, and counsel, and guide. Their gods are gods of Sky, and their color is white, the white of snow, and purity.

From his torso and arms, he made the warriors: those that lead, and fight, and protect. Their gods are gods of War, and their color is red, the true warrior scarlet.

From his hips and legs, his buttocks and loins, he made the peasants: those that raise, and grow, and make. Our gods are gods of Earth, and magic, and our color is black: the deep, rich black of good, tilled loam.

The things warlocks worry about.

I was born at the Summer Solstice of 19xx. My friend and brother warlock Adaron was born at the Winter Solstice of the same year.

Clearly, the two of us embody (in some sense or other) the Dark Twin and the Light, if only to one another. (Life imitating myth imitating life imitating...) But which, may I ask, is which?

(Bear in mind that, being warlocks, we both want to be Dark Twin.)

Well, you might think that, in a bipolar year, it would be the Winter-born Twin who's the Light Twin. So one might think.

But, of course—this is mythology that we're talking about, after all—it's not quite that simple. You're telling me that Him who reigns over July, August, and all the Harvest is the Year's Dark Half? Sorry, I'm just not buying it.

Well, at thirteenth and last, I've got both a light side and a dark, and so does Adaron. We all do. A crow needs two wings to fly with. The paradox of the divided self lies at the very heart of Old Craft theology and psychology: we're all our own opposite, dark and light. When you notice yourself projecting onto someone else, be sure that it's you you're projecting.