Bed of Stone
Daniel had desperately wanted to explore this planet after he saw the video from the MALP. Here in person it was even more breathtaking.
The ruins looked like a medieval village. On the outskirts were the remains of wattle and daub huts. Farther in were stone houses, most of which were reduced to rubble. A few in better condition had wisps of thatch still clinging to their rafters. There was an eerie quiet to the empty houses, to the abandoned village.
The finest and largest structure stood on a slight rise in the center of the village. The abby's roof was gone but most of its tall stone block walls were left standing.
There was no obvious destruction by the Goa'uld. It appeared that the inhabitants left their lives here behind and walked away.
Daniel glanced into a house or two but the object of his journey was the abby.
"If there is any information about this settlement, this civilization, it will be here."
He hoped for books or scrolls or at the very least the remnants of wall decorations of lettering or paintings.
To ensure their safety O'Neill and Teal'c scouted the perimeter of the village. The only sign of life was a small antelope reminiscent of a white tailed deer. It's big brown eyes observed them, ignored them and went back to cropping grass.
They meandered back to the church, which was basically an empty roofless hall.
Daniel and Carter were standing before a raised platform. Daniel turned his head and said "It's a sarcophagus."
Immediately their weapon came up as O'Neill and Teal'c cautiously approached the structure.
"Stand aside." O'Neill ordered.
"No, no. It's not Goa'uld, it's medieval."
There before them in elegant simplicity was the stone effigy of a man and woman, their features soften by the decades. They looked like Jack's grandfather prized carved chess pieces. On the right the man held a sword with his right hand, the woman on the left held a spindle with her left hand. Between them their hands were entwined. Under his feet lay a dog, large like a wolf hound. Under her feet a small lap dog.
Memories flooded Jack's mind of many a summer when he was a kid in Chicago. His parents would ship him off, away from his friends and the sweltering heat of the city, to the country, to Minnesota, to his grandparents farm.
He had been resentful at first. In short order he grew to love his summers there.
He learned to play chess, learned to fish, to work hard, to love his grandmother's pies, to be self reliant. At night, far away from the lights of the city, he could see the endless stream of stars, the Milky Way. He learned the paths of Venus, Jupiter and Mars across the sky. He learned to use tools helping his grandfather build a cabin in the woods. He fed the horses, watched the swallows fly from the barn during the day and the bats at night, drove a tractor and had his grandfather's dog to accompany his adventures.
His grandparent's elderly relatives would gather occasionally with food, stories and music. In a house of music and laughter the songs and stories were usually heartbreaking. The tall tales told were rich in the exploits of fierce warriors and earthshaking battles, beautiful maidens, magic and willful gods. The warriors, brothers in arms, were equipped with great swords, spears and shields, and were engaged in noble quests and combat for righteous causes. These were the myths of his both Irish Celt and the Norse ancestors.
Entranced by these tales he saw his future. He knew even as a boy that's what he would be - a warrior. He would know battle, know war, know blood and death, and most of all he'd know victory.
"Jack, Jack, it's not a threat." Daniel spoke to the seemingly spaced out O'Neill. All of them noticed O'Neill hesitation.
"Yeah, I can see that." Jack said as he lowered his weapon.
Still standing there staring at the tomb the lyrics of one of the sorrowful songs were niggling at the edges of his memory.
The rest of the day Daniel filmed the remains of the walls and the sarcophagus where he found around the edge either a design or minute inscription. He petitioned to stay over night so he could look for a vault or crypt under the church. So they set up camp.
At night O'Neill walked the perimeter of the encampment during his watch. Passing the tents of his team mates as he walked he thought again of his youth. He has achieved what he had hoped for. He knows war and he has begun to tire of it. He has had enough of blood and death. He yearned for the end of war, he yearned for victory, he yearned for peace.
As the moon rose bathing the planet in its shimmering light the words of one of those heartbreaking songs finally came to his mind.
"The moon is moving over Poll na Bron
Where two lovers are lying on their bed of stone.
…
And it's lay down my own true love
The shadows are falling and night has come.
And it's lay down low, my love.
Down by the river there's a tall willow tree
Who weeps all night for you and me.
And it's lay down low my love."*
He thought of Carter, whom he cares about a lot more than he supposed to. Carter, he was supposed to think of her as only a soldier under his command, a very capable soldier but just a soldier. How was that working out for him? A bed of stone - will that be all that's left of their life and love - cold and dead on a bed of stone? He wanted more out of life.
*The Willow Tree by Padraigin Ni Uallachain