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Brothers of the Ox-Yoke
by David Nunes da Silva
2435 B.C.E. The Julian Alps.
In the third millennium B.C.E., they thought differently. Or I should
say, in the third millennium C.E., we think differently. Only our cunts
and cocks are still the same. Characters who speak not one line, have not
one thought, of which one can say: that is a modern thought - that is the
goal, but of course it is impossible. Some writing remains from around
2435; not much. A few hymns. Some tax records. But people don't, or
certainly they didn't, write as they think, nor even as they speak. Did
they cuss in 2435? Did they say "rape!" or "holy cunt!" or "bronze!"?
The ancient sources do not say.
The 'songs' in this story are from (that is, mangled from) the Avesta and
the Rig Veda. Translations of the Avesta and the Vedas tend to have a dry,
academic quality, even the best ones. The songs were not dry - they are
about sex, cattle-rustling, and the use of a performance-enhancing drug in
sporting events. In my imitations, I have tried to make the tone raunchy,
without changing the content, which is raunchy enough already. For example,
instead of:
"Pusan, rouse her to be most eager to please, the women in whom men
sow their seed,"
I prefer:
"Make her beg for it, Pusan. Make my wife a fuckable woman."
This is the second story of a trilogy. If you read the second without the
first, you won't know what is going on. You may not anyway.
Home Page ( http://www.angelfire.com/indie/dnds/index.htm )
I. "... and run between the fires on a warm midsummer night."
( http://www.angelfire.com/indie/dnds/Arkwan.htm )
II. Brothers of the Ox-Yoke
( http://www.angelfire.com/indie/dnds/tektu.htm )
III. The Song of Kala Khoam
( http://www.angelfire.com/indie/dnds/kalakhoam.htm )
[ subject line {ASS} Midsummer Fires 03 {Davo da Silva} {mf mm sm viol nc
hist}
this posting is the first half of the second story, called Brothers of
the Ox-Yoke,
of the Midsummer Fires trilogy. ]
* * * * * * * * * *
Tektu didn't need his eyes, to know his arrow would miss, but he lifted the
cloth, in time to see it smash into a stone, nowhere near the target. The
stick Poradis had tossed into the air, hit the ground. Tektu had tried too
hard, trying to be fast, and had released much too soon. Another arrow to
replace. Tektu wished he minded missing the target. But he didn't feel
anything. When Arkwan had watched him shoot, and when Tektu could tell, by
the tiny crinkle in the corner of Arkwan's eye, that he was pleased, Tektu
had felt like the High King of the whole green Earth. When he missed with
Arkwan watching, it felt like a dagger into his balls; hurting all the more
because Arkwan wouldn't whip him for his mistakes. But since Hu had died,
and Arkwan had gone with Nakien to the north, nothing really hurt, and
nothing gave real pleasure; it was as if his pain and pleasure were
happening to someone else. He dropped his belt and loincloth, and Poradis
gave him a stroke. Tektu's bottom was as tough as tanned bullhide, and a
stroke of the greenwood hurt him about as much as a pinch on the cheek.
He'd like to feel at least a little pain, to feel something, when he made
such a stupid mistake. But if Tektu wanted a whipping that really hurt, for
a miss, Poradis would demand the same - and the nagging sadness that weighed
on Tektu was made worse, when almost every morning, he had to whip Poradis's
skinny, old man's bottom.
Kahela shot next, and she watched her arrows miss the target with dead eyes.
There was a flicker of greedy pleasure in her eyes as she lifted her
tunic for the strokes that would, if only for a heartbeat, distract her.
Poradis shot last. Poradis never put on his loincloth until after
practice, and Tektu stood behind him with the switch raised, the way an
arrow master stands behind his worst pupil. But Poradis did not try any
fancy fast shooting, or cover his eyes; he aimed carefully. This morning
he sent arrow after arrow into the target, his body as wooden as a carved
God's. Then Tektu and Poradis practiced dodging cloth-head arrows, and
Poradis was hit. But he got no whipping for that: being hit by the arrow
hurt enough.
"You should try harder to hit the target, Kahela," Tektu said, once they had
retrieved the arrows and lifted their packs. "Even if there is no battle,
there could be robbers. We could be taken as slaves."
"We may be robbed, and raped, and killed, Tektu, but not made slaves. Not
in the lands under the High King."
"What do you mean? Arkwan was taken for a slave."
"Do bards never come to your village, weaver? Or do little weaver boys
spend all their time playing with toys?"
They walked for some time. Tektu could see that Kahela was going to make
him ask. He was pleased in a way; perhaps she was regaining her spirits.
"Punish me for a dunce, O wise teacher," he said, mockingly, "but explain
your wisdom."
Kahela said: "They must tattoo fool's penises in your village."
Tektu was hurt. "Arkwan said I was ready for tattoos, and Nakien himself
pricked me."
Kahela stopped suddenly. Her face was white. Tektu grabbed her in time to
keep her from falling. Too late he remembered that Nakien had also pricked
Hu. She looked like she was about to howl, and Tektu wanted to slap her.
He lowered her to the ground, and yelled at her instead. "Dunce! Why
do you say we may be killed, but not taken as slaves? Arkwan was taken!"
Kahela looked at him and shook her head. She said: "Arkwan was not a man of
the High King when he was taken; so Kros had the right to say he was on a
cattle raid."
"So it's against the Law to take us as slaves," Tektu argued. "Isn't it
also against the Law to kill us?"
"Tektu, if you were taken and kept as a slave, in some village, every bard
and peddler who passed through would know you. You are the son of Nohas.
We may meet bandits along this path, but they will kill us, or we will
kill them."
"They could take us to their cave, and keep us as slaves to their pleasure."
"In a black bard's tale," Kahela snorted. "Real bandits live in some
village, and pretend to be honest men."
"But there could be some who live in caves."
"And live on bugs? And how would such men keep slaves? Stay up all
night to watch us?"
"I wondered why Arkwan did not escape," Tektu said.
"Where would he go?" Kahela asked.
"He said he wanted to join King Taslan, and fight the nomads."
"And tell Taslan that he escaped from Kros? Taslan would have to return
him, or pay for him, to keep honor. Arkwan was taken fairly under the Law,
so for Taslan to keep him would make Taslan a thief. King Taslan is
fighting; he can't make an enemy of the bronze makers."
"A raid - nomads from the north. They could take us as slaves."
"Nomads do not come this far south."
"You have taught me, Kahela," Tektu admitted. "I was the dunce."
"For punishment, you shall enter me," Kahela said grimly.
Tektu felt his penis shrivel. He had entered a woman once before; with
Nakien, sliding into her a heartbeat after Nakien pulled out. His seed
had burst out. Tektu had liked the smooth easy sliding, easier than a
man's shit-eye, since his penis had been still sore from getting his tattoo.
Nakien had said that he should learn to keep his seed in, to prolong his
pleasure. Tektu never found out that woman's name. That same night he
had met Raki-Danniahik; they had spent the night playing, and wrestling, and
laughing, Laughing at nothing. Toward morning they had slept, but Raki
had woken Tektu in the gray light before sunrise.
Raki had his hand around Tektu's long stiff shaft. "Tektu, in your sleep
you said ... Do you really want to?"
Tektu nodded, and Raki turned away. Tektu pushed his sore penis tip slowly
and carefully into Raki's shit-eye, and then pulled out again. Then he put
his hand on Raki's bare penis. "We may come back to this village, Raki.
I don't know. It depends on Nakien. Get your tattoos soon. If you have
them when I come back, we can do anything you want."
Raki had wept. "I suppose you'd rather enter a woman. I saw you. You
put your seed in her, didn't you?"
"Raki, I'd rather enter your bottom than spend the night with a hand of
women, learning Nakien's secrets of pleasure. Get your tattoos."
"I'm learning to be a priest. That's what my name means in the old tongue:
priest of Dannia. I'll have to enter a women for the planting sacrifice,
but I'm not sure I'll be able to."
Tektu had boasted that his penis would always rise when he wanted it to, but
now, with Kahela, he didn't feel a stir. He dropped his loincloth, and
started to remove Kahela's tunic.
Poradis, who rarely spoke, grabbed Tektu by the shoulder. "Can't you wait
till tonight? We should keep going."
Tektu didn't wait for Kahela to agree. He put his loincloth back on,
lifted his pack, and headed along the trail, putting three arrows in his
belt, and carrying his bow, strung. "We'll carry our bows as long as we
are in the woods," he ordered. "If Kahela is right that thieves will kill
us, we need to shoot first."
Toward midday, Poradis stopped Kahela and Tektu with a touch, and put his
hand across his mouth. "What is it?" Tektu asked, as quietly as he could.
"A lot of people. See this dust? Ahead of us, going slowly. We are
overtaking them."
"Shall we hide?"
Kahela said: "We can't go along this path and not be seen. We should join
this group. That way, we will be safe."
Tektu looked at Poradis, who nodded. They started to walk. Poradis
spoke quietly: "Put your bow over your shoulder, Tektu. Or they'll shoot
you for a thief. Walk slowly. I don't want to turn a corner in these
woods, and find ourselves face to face with drawn bows. It will be better
if they see us first from a distance. Keep your eyes and ears open; they
may have heard us. They could be waiting."
After some distance through the woods, the path climbed to more open
country, and they saw a few people, seemingly the rearguard of the large
party. There were two warriors, with shields and spears on their backs,
arrows in their belts, and bows in their hands. They were with three old
women, who carried heavy packs.
Tektu shouted: "Well met on the roads, friends."
* * * * * * * * * *
The two warriors had their arrows nocked by the time they turned around, but
Tektu thought they should have been faster. At this distance, Tektu
thought he could dodge the arrows. But it would be a lot harder to dodge
two than one. Tektu held his hands away from his body. They did not
shoot.
"Well met if you be a friend," the older warrior shouted. The younger
warrior gave a loud shout, and there was an answering shout from further
ahead.
"I am Tektu, son of Nohas headwoman. In our village, we keep sheep, and
weave cloth."
"Honor, road-friend Tektu. We know of the village of Nohas. But you are
far from home."
"Who asks?"
"I am Marwat, warrior of Queen Ishan."
"Honor, Marwat. Health and safety to your lady Queen, and great honor.
You, too, travel far."
"Not so far, yet, but we go to the sanctuary at the smoking water. The
Queen is taking rams for the Great Sacrifice."
Kahela shouted: "Honor, Marwat. Health to the Queen and her warriors. I
am daughter of Kratik: Kahela, of the village of Sugga law-singer."
"All revere the Law-Singer," Marwat shouted.
Poradis said nothing, and neither did the younger warrior. Tektu didn't
know if Poradis drank from the honor cup or not, but he was acting as if he
was Kahela's man, standing behind her. Clever, Tektu thought. He's
making Kahela seem to be a great lady, traveling with her own warrior.
But Marwat was not impressed. He made them hand over their weapons. They
walked along with Marwat and the young warrior behind them, arrows nocked.
Before sunset, they reached a marsh. There was open water in the middle,
but separated from the shore by a thick stand of reeds. The Queen's
company had set up camp under some trees on the sloping hillside, where a
little rill tumbled down the rocks to sink into the swampy grass.
They told their names and households to the chief of the warriors, who made
no move to give them back their weapons. One of the warriors asked Tektu
if he would like to join their evening practice. Tektu knew that it was
the sport of warriors to give cocky young fighters a good thrashing,
especially wvaksa's sons. It had been the same when the High King had come
to Tektu's village in the spring. One of the King's warriors had asked
Tektu: "Want some practice with shield and spear?"
"No," Tektu had said.
"A coward?"
"Yes!"
And the warrior had given Tektu a kick on the bottom, and the warriors, and
the villagers, had laughed. But Erdiosh, Tektu's friend, shouted: "He is
not a coward."
"Do you want a match with me?" the warrior had asked.
Erdiosh, as all the village knew, liked to suckle on Tektu's penis. Boys
do that, of course, but people do say that the boy whose penis is sucked, is
usually the brave one. "As penis, so dagger," the proverb goes. So
Erdiosh thought he had to prove he wasn't a coward. He took on the king's
warrior, fighting with shields and headless spears. It was horrible.
Erdiosh was soon curled up on the ground, shouting "Stop. I'm a coward, a
coward" His shoulder was mangled, a rib broken, and there was a bad gash in
his groin, bruises all over, and a cut from his own shield below his ear.
And he had bitten his tongue. The King's warrior had not been touched.
Before walking away, the warrior kicked Erdiosh's bottom.
Tektu didn't want to travel with Queen Ishan's company of warriors, slinking
along as an admitted coward. He wanted to show these grinning warriors
that he wasn't afraid of them. He said: "I had in mind to practice with my
bow tonight."
A different warrior, no doubt the Queen's best archer, answered him: "A wise
choice, son of Nohas headwoman. It doesn't hurt when an arrow misses a
target."
"When you miss, son of I don't know who, I'll beat you with my bow. Will
that hurt enough for you?"
"Name your target!"
"I have no bow."
The Chief of the warriors gave Tektu back his bow and quiver. Some warriors
nocked arrows and watched him. The Chief also brought a stick; of course
no one was going to beat anyone with a valuable bow, that was just a way of
speaking. Tektu slung his quiver off his hip, facing forward, tied to his
belt as well as hanging from his shoulder. He pointed to a grassy bank, not
very far away. The warriors laughed. What a beating this boy was going
to get, they thought, challenging a real warrior. The Queen's archer shot
first, shooting a hand of arrows in a tight cluster. Tektu took off his
loincloth. The warriors sniggered. This calf was submitting to a beating
without even trying to match the archer's shooting. This was going to be
fun, they thought. We'll torment this fool all night.
Tektu waited for the noise to stop, then laughed. He wrapped his loincloth
over his eyes, and faced away from the target. He stood still for a few
heartbeats, and quickly spun around. Then he waited, with the cloth still
over his eyes, as the warriors began to murmur, and then to shout.
"Three arrows!" someone shouted. "Did you see that? Did you see him
draw three times? It was like lightning!"
Tektu took the cloth from his eyes. The arrows were not as close together
as Arkwan could have done, but at least he hadn't killed anyone. His arrows
were not as close together as the other man's; he had not expected them to
be. He didn't want to win, just to make sure he was respected. But the
warrior handed him the stick.
"It is good to have a contest," Tektu said, taking the stick. "I usually
practice alone. A contest, with a merry wager - a little bottom-tickling as
a prize for the unlucky one - that makes a pleasant change. Who has been my
companion, this evening? I judge myself to be the loser; take this
again."
"Health to you, Tektu, son of Nohas. I thought to win this contest, and
would have beaten you hard. Do not spare me, but strike hard, or you
dishonor me. I am Aru son of ... Ishan."
Prince Aru had spoken the Queen's name in a whisper, and was blushing. It
is not very admirable, to force a young guest to compete with the chosen
best of a company, and beat him for losing. It is even less admirable,
when a prince does it.
"Beat me hard, Tektu," the Prince said, in Tektu's ear. "If you hit light,
they will think I am using my royal rank. I will lose the name of honor
forever."
Tektu wondered, what will the Queen think? Will she hate me for whipping
her son?
"Your health and safety, Prince. Remove your loincloth!"
"Safety, and your heart's desire, Headwoman's son."
The Prince does well to wish me safety, Tektu thought. It is a dangerous
thing, whipping a prince. The Prince removed his cloak, then loosened his
belt and pulled his loincloth through. He kept his dagger at his side;
it was copper, just like the other warriors', not a Kros nor a Tlossos.
The Prince's loincloth was thick wool cloth, it covered his bottom, and the
wear showed he'd been sitting on it. Such is wealth. Tektu's was rabbit
skin, twisted up his crack. Tektu winced just to think of how much this
was going to hurt on the Prince's puffy soft white skin. Every eye in camp
was on the Prince; they didn't look at Tektu. Someone told the Queen, and
she came out of her house of skins. There was a bard with her. Tektu knew
him, a red bard named Heyos. The Prince looked at the Queen, begging with
his eyes, and he lay down, facing away from her. Some warriors moved, so
they could look into the Prince's face as he was beaten. Others stood on
logs, or climbed trees, so they could look down at the Prince's bottom.
There was complete silence.
Tektu put his own loincloth back on, and looked at the Queen. She nodded.
Tektu stepped across the Prince's legs to get a better position - he was
left-handed. Then he his raised the stick and brought it down across the
Prince's royal bottom. The rod was solid ash, and this would be a serious,
bruising beating. This was nothing like the pleasant sting of a snappy
greenwood switch. This was even worse than the whippings with knotted
leather straps that his mother gave him, that left his back a plaid of
bleeding cuts. A heavy rod like this could crack a rib. Better to pulp
the bottom with blow after blow, than to land any across the Prince's back.
But there was no doubt that this very rod was what the Prince had planned to
use.
Tektu delivered another stroke, then another. The Prince gave no sign.
Tektu looked at the Queen, at all the watching eyes. He could not tell
what they were thinking; no one looked at him. He gave another stroke.
Little tears of blood showed where one stroke had landed on top of another.
The rod was not smooth. There was now just one strip of unbruised skin
across the Prince's bottom. Tektu aimed for it, but missed. The prince
made a little sound. Tektu put down the rod, and sat down. A boy, a
slave Tektu thought, helped the Prince to stand, and they walked away, the
Prince leaning on the slave's arm. The watching warriors began to murmur.
Tektu, all eyes on him now, retrieved his arrows, cleaned them, and
carefully put them into his quiver.
Marwat came over to Tektu. Tektu thought he might be killed. He tried
to show no fear, and made no sort of move to defend himself.
"Would you like another match?" Marwat asked.
Tektu expected a contest of plain shooting. He planned to lose. Then
the warriors' honor would be satisfied without shedding Tektu's blood. Or
at least, not very much of it. A beating was better than a dagger in his
ribs. But Marwat wanted a contest with eyes covered. Tektu shot as badly,
and as slowly, as he could. Marwat, with his first arrow, hit a woman;
fortunately, she was only scratched. "I am not a prince, son of Nohas,"
Marwat said as he handed the rod, "you do not need to strike so lightly with
me." Tektu did not strike him any harder than he had the Prince. Marwat
took his hand of blows without a sound, and sprang to his feet with a
reproachful look, as if Tektu had doubted his courage, in striking so
lightly. It had not seemed light to Tektu. He wondered what these
warriors considered hard. Several warriors spoke at once, challenging
Tektu to another blind match. Tektu thought: they'll be angry if I refuse.
But if I whip them all, what then? Will I see the sunrise in the
morning?
The slave boy came and said the Prince wanted to talk to Tektu. The
Prince was lying on his belly, under blankets, but with his bottom exposed
to the cooling breeze. It was shiny, greased with bear fat.
"I want you to finish," the Prince said. "I made a sound - I am
dishonored. Beat me harder. I will be silent. Give me the strokes you
would have, if I hadn't cried."
Tektu said: "Honor, Prince. How hard would you have struck, and how many,
if I had lost?"
The Prince put his hand on his bottom. "I've used that rod a lot. I
didn't know how much it hurt, until now. But I think your hand is lighter
than mine. I would have given you one stroke; that is our custom. But I
lost the wager - I must endure whatever you give."
"Punish me, Prince. I meant only to do what was fair. I thought you
would make a sign."
"One stroke for that challenge, Tektu. But we would have challenged you
again, all night long. Until your bottom was so beaten you could no
longer walk. Unless you were brave enough to say you were a coward, and
refuse a challenge. And if you did refuse, I would have pissed on your
face. I've done it before. You want to do what is fair? Beat me until
sunrise. And piss on my face if I make another sound - in front of
everyone."
"Prince, if one stroke is the custom, I can't give you any more."
"The custom is, that the winner can whip as long as he wants. I would have
given only one stroke, out of scorn. A long beating is an honor, if it is
endured without complaint. Beat me now - I will not cry out again."
"Royal Prince, I can't do this."
Then I challenge you to blindfold shooting, a hand of strokes for the loser.
And I will challenge again, until my arse is too beat to move my legs."
"I am not brave enough to keep winning against a prince. However badly
you shoot, I can shoot worse."
"But they know how well you shoot. It will look as if I made you lose to
me."
"You did, Prince. When you let me give you a hand of strokes, when the
custom is one. That may be dangerous for me. How many of your warriors
are brave enough to win against you? You said you had not felt the ash
rod."
"They are not my warriors. Let's have a real contest, Tektu. Something
I might win and you might. A foot race."
Tektu said: "Prince, shooting at a target. A far target. No blindfold."
"Agreed. I suppose you're good at all kinds of shooting. But you may be
surprised. I am a good archer, even if they do let me win."
They laid out a target. The Prince told Tektu to go first.
Tektu stood on a log: "Hear, all of you! Health and safety to the Queen!
Honor and her heart's desire! Health to her son and daughters! Prince Aru
has challenged me at archery. My best skill is blind shooting, but I will
win at the target he has chosen! We agree: a beating for the loser, a
hand of strokes. He will regret challenging me!"
Tektu was never very good at a far target, and he had not practiced that
kind of shooting since he left his village. Arkwan had said: "In a battle,
enemies don't stay still." So Tektu would lose to the Prince, if the
Prince was any good at all. The only trouble was not shooting so badly
that everyone knew he was losing on purpose. It was very important that
he not miss badly. He shot. He missed badly.
All his life, at training, Tektu had been told about fighters who are good
at practice, but useless in their first battle. Sometimes the arrow master
threatened horrible beatings for a miss, so his pupils could learn to shoot
calmly, even when they were terrified. Tektu was terrified, but it didn't
make him shoot worse, so the arrow master tried something else. "From now
on, Tektu, I'll whip your friends - whip 'em with leather - when you miss,
and whip you when one of them misses." Tektu remembered aiming his arrow,
thinking, I have to make this shot, I have to make this shot. Thinking
like that, of course he missed. Day after day, as the moon waned, his
friends were whipped for his failure - whipped on bottoms bruised and sore
from the days before. The master made Tektu shoot quickly, and he stood
with the pig-whip, raised over some boy's bottom, or girl's, bent across a
log. Arrow after arrow missed, and for each miss he brought down the
braided straps. Tektu would never forget the sound, or the crying. And if
Tektu did not shoot quickly enough, he heard the lash strike before he
released. When it was a girl, Tektu tried desperately hard not to miss -
and shot even worse. All the girls, except his sister Danha, thought he
was doing it on purpose, and they shot badly so he would be whipped. And
they weren't nice to him afterwards either. When it was Danha's bottom
under the pig-whip, that was the worst of all. She never made a sound. The
master said: "See the target, Tektu. Only the target. Do not see your
friends' faces, do not see their bottoms. See only the arrowhead in the
target." And by the time the new moon rose, he could.
Tektu realized he had nocked an arrow, drawn, and fired, while thinking
about practice at the village. The arrow stood in the center of the
target. He shot a trio of arrows to finish the hand. Each one went
exactly where he wanted it, as he knew it would. But he took care that
they were not too close to the center.
As the Prince drew for his first shot, the Queen came out of her tent, with
Kahela, and the Prince waited as his mother found a spot with a good view of
the target. The Queen put her hand on Kahela's shoulder - Tektu wasn't
sure what that meant. The Prince shot his hand of arrows. They struck in
a fairly wide scatter, but with Tektu's one bad miss on his first shot, it
was clear the Prince had won. With this beating, Tektu thought the
warriors' honor would be satisfied, even if he won in other contests. But
first he would have to endure the beating. In Aru's ear he said, "Honor,
Prince. Strike hard."
* * * * * * * * * *
"Queen, your heart's desire. This woman says she is Kahela daughter of
Kratik, of the village of Sugga law-singer. The man Tektu, son of Nohas
headwoman, has just been challenged by the Prince."
The Queen had summoned the strangers to her tent as soon as they reached the
camp. She looked at Kahela with suspicion. She said "Heyos?"
The bard looked at Kahela. "Honor, Queen. I know Kratik well, but it was
long ago when I was with the Law-Singer. Does Kratik still have his
bullhide whip?"
"His elbow pains him. The students come to me now, for help with their
singing."
"Hah! Help! You are indeed the daughter of Kratik. And this ... Poradis?
Poradis!"
The two old men embraced and kissed. "But why do you not give your name?"
the bard asked. "Have you become a slave?"
Poradis answered: "I and my daughter guard the doorposts of my house. All
is well with the house of Aradis."
Heyos said: "Health, Queen Ishan. I know this man, he is of Sugga's
village. And I will know Tektu son of Nohas, when I see him. You
remember the tale of the God we do not name, at the dance of the bronze
makers? Tektu traveled with the slave who claimed the God had used his
body."
Kahela said: "Honor, Queen. The slave makes no claim. Nute, the peddler,
was at the dance. Nute says that all who were there, saw the God's face."
"And was the Kohiyossa born in one night, as they say?"
Kahela didn't know what to say. She wanted to talk to Tektu. She wanted,
desperately, to talk to Hu.
"Speak!" the Queen commanded. "Warriors, whip this woman!"
"The Kohiyossa was not born in a night!" Kahela shrieked.
"Tell me what you know," the Queen commanded.
"Honor, Queen Ishan. Last summer, a year and a night before the dance at
the bronze makers, the God came to a dance. At that dance too, He used
the penis of a man - the same man. At that dance, He entered one woman
only. Not in a night, but in the tenth moon, she bore a son with golden
hair. The bronze makers tried to sacrifice this boy, but she saved him,
crushed in the rescue. Nakien white bard, has ruled that this boy is
indeed the Kohiyossa. This summer, at the dance of the bronze makers, the
God used the same penis again. He entered every woman, putting His seed in
them all. The smashers ..."
A slave stuck his head through the door. "Prince Aru has lost his
challenge to the young stranger! The Prince has handed him the rod! Um.
Honor, Queen Ishan."
"Kahnikos!" "And as for you, daughter of Kratik, I shall question you
later."
They all followed the Queen, and the warriors made way for her. The
watching warriors made a ring around Tektu and the Prince, and Kahela
couldn't see what was happening. She stood with other women at the edge of
the crowd. They heard the smack of wood hitting flesh. "What is
happening?" a woman asked.
Another woman said: "Prince Aru is getting a beating. He challenged a
stranger, and lost."
"And the stranger is beating him? What a fool. I'll cook and eat his
balls when the Queen cuts them off."
When the Prince was helped away from the practice ground by his slave, they
passed Kahela, and the Prince gave her a little shy smile. Kahela
followed them, and hid behind a tree. The slave was indignant. "How dare
he beat you!" he said as he soothed the Prince with bear-grease. "You
should drink some Hema for the pain. And when you have this serpent
whipped to death, let me handle the rod."
"No Hema," the Prince said. "Fetch the stranger. And Kahnikos, his name
is Tektu son of Nohas headwoman. Speak to him with proper honor."
Kahela listened to Tektu and the Prince. When they agreed to another
match, Kahela thought that Tektu was planning to lose. But couldn't Tektu
see that the Prince also planned to lose? Kahela ran to the Queen's tent.
"Where have you been, Kratik's daughter? Do you know that the man you came
with, whipped my son?"
"Be well, daughter of Metik-Danniadae, King. Tektu may win again, if you
do not stop them."
"Why should I stop them? If my son challenges a better archer, let him be
beaten."
"I fear the warriors will kill Tektu."
"Why does he challenge a Prince then? And I am a Queen, daughter of
Kratik!"
"Honor, Queen Ishan! Punish me for not speaking to you properly! I think
Tektu plans to lose. But I think Prince Aru plans to lose as well. I
don't know why."
"My son sees himself as a hero. It must be sweet for him, to take his
beating honorably, after a fair contest. The warriors lose to him on
purpose."
"Safety, Queen, and long life. But I fear Tektu will have neither."
"My warriors will obey me. But we shall go see this match."
* * * * * * * * * *
"Kahela."
It was Hu's voice. As clear as if he was standing next to her. "Well
done," he said.
* * * * * * * * * *
Tektu had already shot. Prince Aru was about to begin. The Queen looked
at her son, her eyes speaking, and she put her hand on Kahela's shoulder.
Aru wasn't sure what she meant. Kahela wasn't beautiful, but there was
something in her eyes. When she had come into the camp, in a heartbeat, he
had wanted her. Most woman would come to him: he was the Prince. But not
Kahela; he saw that in her eyes. He would have to prove himself.
Aru planned to lose and get another beating, only this time, he wanted
Kahela to look at his face. He didn't know if she had seen him the first
time. He would lose and take a beating, as honor required, and she would
watch his face as he endured the blows without a sound. Surely she would
be impressed. But as he drew, she shouted "Your heart's desire, Prince.
Shoot well!" She must know what his heart's desire was - those eyes could
see his heart. He shot his hand of arrows, not knowing if he wanted to win
or lose. He thought he had lost. But the warriors shouted "Aru, Aru."
Tektu stripped for his beating, and stood waiting for the Prince to command
him. Tektu had a snub nose and a lopsided grin, but he had a warrior's
strong body, and a long penis, tattooed with a spiral pattern. His ball
sack was smooth, his piss-beard hardly more than a boy's. He had scars
across his bottom, like most archers who trained with strict teachers. His
black hair was braided close around his head, in the hero pattern, showing
that he, or his father, had won high honor. Young as he was, he was as
tall as Aru, and heavier. If he is coupling with her, Aru thought, I don't
have a chance. But she wished me luck, not him! Aru was frantic with
desire, and his penis stiffened inside his loincloth. I should remember
not to wear it so tight, he thought. He wished he could punish Tektu like
a naughty slavegirl, by raping his shit-eye. Aru made Tektu bend over a
pile of packs, with his legs spread, positioned for a rape, but then smashed
the ash rod across Tektu's bottom, fast and hard. As he gave blow after
blow, in his eyes he was thrusting into Tektu's bottom with his own rod.
His penis hurt, pressed against his cloth. He gave more than the hand of
blows they had agreed, but he stopped at last, and threw down the rod. How
she must despise me, he thought.
Tektu stood up, in a daze, and took a few steps, trying not to show the pain
that every step cost him. Poradis came over, holding Tektu's bow and
quiver.
"Health and good appetite, Wvaksa, son of Nohas. Have you finished your
evening practice? Shall we do some battle shooting?"
Tektu took the bow and quiver. Poradis stood a short distance away,
holding a slab of bark the size of his hand. Tektu faced away from him,
quiver tied low by his hip, and bow hung to the front. Poradis shouted,
and tossed the bark up and to the side. Tektu spun around, grabbed an
arrow with one hand and the bow with the other, nocked, drew, and released.
He missed the bark, but not by much. He turned away again, and hung
his bow. Poradis threw again, and shouted. This time the arrow clipped
the bark as it fell. One more time: Poradis threw, toward the lake this
time, and the arrow went solidly into the bark. Poradis and Tektu walked
over to the fire, where food was cooking. Tektu seemed to have forgotten
the pain, and he walked along easily, his long penis swinging with his
steps. The warriors crowded around, asked Tektu what battles he had seen,
and began to tell tales of battles, two or three of them talking at once.
Skins of mead came out from under cloaks. Tektu drank standing up. Aru
sat alone on the practice ground, his hand on the ash rod.
The sweet familiar tune of the evening sacrifice was raised; and they sang
to the lake waters as they each cast a seed of grain or a drop of mead into
the fire. The warriors hugged their women, or each other, and thought of
the homes they did not have.[ source ]
.Now the Gods enjoy our gifts,
and to the giver is given joy,
of home and hearth and rest.
He who set us tasks by day,
now makes us leave them all undone.
Flies eagle home to nest.
A heavy load, under the goad.
Sunset comes and out to grass, go oxen free.
Wind blows across the troubled water
Then evening brings stillness to water and tree.
In the west the Sun commands:
Let the weaving be halted and the cloth be rolled.
And all the Sun obey.
Sun has set the time for working,
but now we turn to quiet thinking.
It is the end of day.
A business asks, for endless tasks,
but evening comes, and father goes home; it is his joy.
A flame spreads out and mother's soup is brought to boil;
She dips for the best bits and gives them to her boy.
Hungry he, he's done his chores,
and he thinks of his brother who is far from home.
He longs to clasp his hand.
At Sunrise we all began to work,
and now in the evening we gather home.
It is the Sun's command.
Thunder, Lord of Law, dashing here, in a flash He is there!
Bird to the nest, and - flock to the fold; and -
Thunder to his home in the waters goes.
Sunset speaks, and Sky obeys, and the evil Gods, and good.
Great Storm obeys, and Friend-of-Men
- Sun, whom all obey, hear me!
I sing your praise, to you I bow,
but I am but a poet who dreams of gold:
I give to you my song.
May Good Luck and Fortune come to me;
the Sun will make happy all those who praise Him,
and grant their lives are long.
Wealth from the Earth, or under the ground
whenever it comes, I will to the Sun, my praises give.
This song across the Waters and the Earth will go,
Men sing the Sun's praises wherever they live.
Warriors rise early, and under the summer moons they sleep when the sun
sets. But they lingered a while, singing by the fire. The Chief
Warrior's wife, thinking of sleepy heads at breakfast, stood up and stripped
by the firelight. She shivered in the breeze from the lake. "I'm going
to sleep," she told her husband. "It's cold. If you don't come keep me
warm now, you can sleep cold tonight. Alone." When the Chief rose and
stripped, they all did, and they lay down together. Tektu lay on his belly.
Warriors crawled across to lay on top, climbing under cloaks, and one of
them put his knee on Tektu's bottom, making him howl. Everyone laughed.
A woman stepped on his bottom, and he howled again. Warriors suckled on
their women's teats, or on each other's penises. Tektu's penis sprang up,
and he had to turn on his side. The woman who had stepped on his bottom,
apologized. She slithered down, and got her mouth around his penis.
"Stop," he shouted, about to burst. She didn't stop, but licked and
suckled and nibbled like a lamb at teat. Tektu's head was against an old
slave woman, who was being fucked from behind by an archer, and two spearmen
were rubbing each other's penises and leaning against his back. But he
didn't have time to be polite. He pulled his penis from the woman's mouth,
and half rose; the men leaning against him fell backwards. Tektu ignored
their yelps and shoved the woman into position, and thrust into her, seed
bursting at once. All around, men had been as quick, and panting hoots
and sighs sounded together. Only a few men continued to bull, here and
there in the heap of bodies. A warrior called out: "I let Marwat use my
shit-eye, and he won't trade. Does anyone want my penis?"
Tektu asked the woman her name. She was Adjehan, wife of Runad spearman.
Tektu apologized for being so quick. "I am very sore," he said. "Could
you fondle my balls? In a while, we can fuck again. I want to suck your
teats, and your ears, and tongue, and cunt, and every part of you." But
Adjehan said she should go back to her husband. Tektu lay on his side, and
the pain nagged and worried at him. Men trying to sleep complained of his
tossings and twitchings.
* * * * * * * * * *
Aru ate with his mother. Slaves brought them food, and the Queen had a small
fire by her tent. Aru lay down to sleep in the tent. One of the slave
girls came and said "Punish me if I fail to pleasure you." Maybe she
really did like him - she seemed to. He told her he was going for a piss.
She followed, but he slipped away from her in the dark, and found a place
to curl up in a pile of windblown leaves. If it got too cold, he would
have to slip in with the men. But he was ashamed. They despised him.
His bottom was sore, and he couldn't sleep.
Aru was a warrior - an archer. Just an archer like the others, even if he
was the only son of the Queen. He might not even be chosen king, unless he
could prove himself. If I had honor, Aru thought, I should have asked to
be punished like the others, from the start. I'm not worthy to be king, and
the men know it. And it wasn't so bad, really, the beating. I did well.
I didn't make a sound, except for that one little moan. I could have
stopped it with a word, but I handed over the rod and bared my bottom. I
was brave enough to do that. Mother won't like it, but I'll tell the Chief
that I must be beaten the same as any other archer. I have to do it; for
respect and honor. They despise me. What sort of man keeps a slave girl
and whips her when he fails to shoot his seed? When I am beaten the same
as they are, side by side, maybe the men will take me along when they go to
steal a pig, or to rape some village girl. And if we're caught, we will
sit in a stream together, cooling our bottoms. We'll hold each other's
penises, and say to each other: "You're such a baby; can't take a whipping,"
the way brothers do when they've been whipped side by side.
Aru wished he could cool his bottom now. It just went on and on hurting.
He wished he had someone to laugh at the pain with, to hold penises with.
I could go find Tektu, he thought. Tektu is a hero, for his weapon; it
won't matter to him that I'm a Queen's son. We could be friends. But I
can't - I beat him more than we agreed. Aru stood up, and stretched. Then
it really hurt. I have to sleep, he thought. Real warriors can always
sleep, even after a beating. He lay down, then got up again. Naked in
the cold wind, carrying his cloak, he walked through the trees. The icy
blast cooled his bottom a little. The moon was rising, large and low in the
east, and he felt his way through stripes of moonlight and shadow. He
tripped over a man; it was Kahela's slave, the old warrior. Where he fell,
his arms felt a woman's hips. "Tektu?" she said. It was Kahela.
"I am Aru, archer" he said, "Daughter of Kratik, I wish you your heart's
desire." He pulled at her cloak, which he was kneeling on, and felt with
his face in the deep darkness. He found her shoulder, her breast, her
teat. He suckled. "You know my desire," he said, "it is you."
"Prince," she said. "Uhm. Honor. Health and safety."
"I am an archer," he said, "just a warrior of the Queen." He moved beside
her and felt for her lips with his own, but she ducked her head and he
kissed only cloth and hair. It was cold. Her skin felt very cold.
Aru found the cloak he had dropped, worked his legs under her cloak, and
spread his thick woolen cloak over them both. He hugged her tight. She
kept her head down, and her knees high. He nuzzled her ear for a bit, then
lay still. The wind picked up, now blowing down the valley. He was cold,
his bottom hurt, and he wasn't sleepy. He tried to lie still.
Some time later, Kahela reached out and felt Aru's body, found his penis,
and held it. She snuggled into him, but kept her head down and her knees
up. I'll rape her in the morning, he thought. Except I don't want to do
it with everyone watching. But if I ever catch her alone, where no one
can hear, I'll rape her and rape her and rape her. I want her so badly.
I'll win some battle, and she'll love me. I'll ask my mother for
something to trade, and pile golden jewelry on her like a queen; like a
goddess. To the fire with her! I want her!
Aru realized his bottom didn't hurt any more, and he felt a great desire to
sleep.
* * * * * * * * * *
Kahela made her way to the lake, wrapped in Aru's cloak, as he had rolled
over on top of hers, and was still sleeping. She folded the cloak and
left it on a log, before pushing through the reeds to the lake. She sank
in the mud up to her knees, so she was glad she had left the fine royal
cloak behind. At the open water, she tossed in her few grains of barley.
They floated, not moving, as if her sacrifice was not accepted. "Queen of
Wombs, may I be carrying Hu's son! Give me that, and I will sing your
praises forever!" Kahela was starting to bleed, so it was impossible,
even for the Goddess. But it was a comfort to say the words. Hu always
included King Sea in his morning sacrifice, so she added: "Great King Sea,
strong and kind, and Great Rod of the Centaur, whom all praise: may I have
pleasure and comfort from a man again, on this green Earth! May I have
pleasure from a penis!" It seemed impossible. Aru was kind. And
polite, for a prince. She had been willing to have his penis inside of
her. It was an honor, she supposed. After all, no one would call her
pretty. But it would be Hu's face she saw, Hu's voice she heard, yelling
"Goddess Cunt!" as he always did. And that would be no pleasure, for
Kahela. She churned her cunt with a reed stalk. But the muddy reed just
made her think of Hu's penis, horribly blotched, and now mouldering in the
dark, under the ground. She did not think she would ever desire a penis
again. The thought of a penis - of flesh stuck into her - made her sick.
In her village, women were careful not to be seen naked, but Kahela had no
thought of anyone else being by the lake. It was before sunrise, cold, and
the swamp mist had not yet risen. Only the tormenting midges were awake,
singing their tuneless song and dappling her bare hide with spots. But she
heard a voice, nearby, in the reeds, and in a tongue she did not know.
Raiding nomads should not be here, but they were. She had no weapon of any
kind. She would be taken; she would spend her life as a slave, raped by
scores of men. The Sky-Father's joke: she had dared to pray for pleasure
from a penis - she, who had taken Hu's bare penis into her tattooed cunt!
Everyone knew that Hu fucked Sugga with a bare penis, and there should be a
blood sacrifice to the Sky-Father for that. Kahela could have made it
for him, naked on his grave at sunrise, so that Hu would have unstained
honor. Then she could have been whipped at sunset for having Hu's bare
penis in her own cunt, until every scab from the morning whipping was peeled
away. And shamed - not only stripped naked before the village, but a leafy
sapling stuck in her shit-eye when the whipping was over. But she hadn't
done any of this. And now, instead of being whipped for a day, she would
be whipped until she died. As ugly as she was, she wouldn't be taken as a
wife, but used as a drudge, whipped at some nomad's pleasure.
But then the voice continued in the ordinary speech, and Kahela knew it - it
was Aru's slave boy. He was praying. To Gods Kahela had never heard of.
"King and Queen of Heaven! Ela'u and Ashrath! Accept the sacrifice of
Yahedar son of Metik-Danniadae. Watch over me in this foreign land. I
pray to you as my mother taught me, and will teach my children; we will
never forget you, or your sacred land, our true home. Take the breath of
Abid-Ashirat my mother under your ridgepole. And watch over my nephew Aru,
and my sister Ishan. Forgive Aru: do not punish his wickedness. They
call him Prince, and it makes him ashamed to weep for the death of a slave.
But he is still the boy who sat with me on her lap, held penises with me
after she switched us. She was his mother more than the Queen ever was,
and he does weep, inside. I will tell Aru the boy is his, at the right
time. For the Queen, punish her for making me do what I don't want to do.
But she doesn't know she is my sister."
White bards from across the green Earth came to the village of the
law-singer. Even from the eastern plain, where the Sacred Mountain reached
the sky. Even from the islands of the northern sea. They spoke of the
Gods, and the Laws, of many lands. But Kahela had heard of nothing like
this prayer. "Take the breath of my dead mother under your ridgepole'?
Why did this boy think a God would want to do that? Not asking for her
name to be given honor, but for her breath to be taken. It made no sense.
And the way the slave boy talked of the Prince! Kahela knew all the royal
genealogy songs - she had taught them. Son of Metik-Danniadae, this boy
called himself. That was the old king, Ishan's father. So he must have
fathered this boy on a slave, as an old man. This slave boy knew whose son
he was, and in his secret thoughts, he called his masters: "sister,"
"nephew," "cousin." A whole nother genealogy, not in the bards' songs,
but kept in the slaves' memory. Kahela had no idea. So Aru had a son, by
some slave girl. At least he didn't always fall asleep when a woman
grabbed his penis.
Kahela waited, and the boy left. She waited some more. She did not know
why it mattered to her, that a slave not know he had been overheard, but it
did. By the time she came out of the tall reeds, the sun was up, and a few
warriors were about. But Kahela had too many thoughts - she forgot she was
naked. She had been about to praise the Sky-Father when she had heard the
slave's voice. Now she remembered that she had not sacrificed to Him at
all. She would have to go back. She heard again in her ears the slave
saying: "King and Queen of Heaven." What were the names again? Nakien
will want to know. So many Gods. Kahela didn't want to sacrifice to the
Sky-Father. I will never praise Him again, she decided. Let Him be angry.
Let Him punish me. I owe a blood sacrifice - let him take it. He killed
Hu. He can't punish me worse than that. Kahela walked past the men who
were looking at her, and put on Aru's cloak.
The Queen was at the camp, preparing Hema, using the milk from a young
slave-woman, that she suckled and spit into a skin. Marwat was trying to
provide the seed. "It's Tektu," the Queen said. "Go and see."
Tektu looked ghastly; pale and haggard. "It is only the beating," the
Queen said. "but when he tries to stand, he screams. He vomits; even water.
The Hema is ready, except for the sacrifice. Do you know the song?"
The Queen threw butter and a drop of the Hema into the fire; Kahela sang,
and Marwat intoned the counter-strophes:
.For all the bards who contemplate the ancient songs,
Hema can still delight them.
And if they need some fortitude when fighting any wrongs,
Hema will help to fight them.
Hema can give you courage and the strength to fight all day ;
Hema will make you faster. ( for when you run away )
And when the village council meets just take a little drink ;
you will be wise and eloquent. ( without having to think )
In all the songs there's never been a more disgusting King
than Ker the Hema drinker.
And Manzen was a simpleton to swallow everything ;
and they call him a thinker!
"I have great love of learning, and I honor you," Ker said ;
and Manzen called him "wonderful." ( but then he lost his head )
That evil King thought Hema could abolish all decay ;
but great Lord Hema murdered him. ( He likes to trick that way )
.Irhona in her agony hoped for a grateful son ;
. she cried to Hema - save him!
And Rhonan took the honor when the stallion race was run,
with strength that Hema gave him.
All maidens who are getting old and weeping to be wed :
I don't think tears will help you. ( just try Hema instead )
Hema can make a shy young boy the boldest man on Earth ;
and also helps the woman. ( at least for giving birth )
Go dally with a damsel and a little Hema skin
with lust and pleasure fills you,
but put your joy in jewelry and try with dice to win,
then lust for treasure kills you.
Your lover's hidden secrets can the great Lord Hema show,
There are some things He won't reveal. ( well, you don't want to know )
Ask Hema for the honor cup; so beautiful and round,
and you will have it in your hands. ( when you are underground. )
.Lord Hema in the starry sky sings proverbs as of old ;
the precious words will make us wise ;
and when we have to fight we hope that You will make us bold,
and please go fuck those other guys.
Lord Hema wrote the ancient songs and helps the bards to think :
a bard will wait to be inspired. ( he's had too much to drink. )
He'll ask no sneaky questions, but He's open and direct ;
and you'll tell things you hoped to hide. ( but what did you expect. )
And all of you who're listening better change your wicked ways :
don't think you will escape Him,
not when a man you've injured to the Great Lord Hema prays :
"Pull down his cloth and rape him!"
Hema has sung the song of Law from every mountain top :
Your wickedness can't be concealed. ( And you will get the chop. )
Your seed will stay inside you and you won't get any sleep,
You won't see pretty bathing-girls. ( Or recognize your sheep. )
Then Kahela sang the revenge song:
.The terrible green dragon spits poison in his rage - Kill him!
For the wise and honorable man - take revenge.
The giant thirsts for blood, his crimes beyond belief - Kill him!
Hema, his club and fury overcome!
The wvaksa was a murderer, he made himself the king - Kill him!
For the wise and honorable man - take revenge.
A Killer and a Law-breaker, he's hated by the Gods! - Kill him!
The Law is on his lips, but not his deeds.
Mind-bending body pleasure with the soft and fickle whore - Kill her!
For the wise and honorable man - take revenge.
For the man who plans us evil with a smile on his lips - Kill him!
Hema, Great Lord Hema, overcomes!
Everyone around the fire joined in the shouts of death for the wicked, and
Kahela felt hope that Hema would spare Tektu's life. Kahela and the Queen
each took a mouthful, and the Queen put the tip of the skin into Tektu's
mouth, and he swallowed. "Slowly," the Queen said.
Kahela said: "Queen, be well, and ... Ishan, that is, Queen, do you want to
go to your son? He was beaten as well."
"Slowly, a swallow at a time. And then wait to see if he vomits. Don't
give it all yet! Can you do that?"
"Queen, long life. I can do this. Aru was under the oak, behind your
tent. The big oak. I mean the Prince."
Queen Ishan ran.
* * * * * * * * * *
The Queen came back, dragging Aru by the hair. "Did you rape her?" she
asked.
"No, Mother."
"Kahnikos!"
"Punish me for not speaking properly. I mean, Be well, Royal Captain
Ishan, Mother; punish me for not speaking properly. And no, I did not rape
her."
"Are you coupling with Tektu as well as my son, Kratik's daughter?"
"He didn't f... I mean, Safe travel, Queen Ishan. We did not couple last
night."
"You are wrapped in his cloak, Kahela. Did you think I don't recognize it?
Just don't bring your swollen belly to my doorposts!"
"Honor and praise to Hema and the Queen! He did not enter me."
"Hmph! You lay under the same cloak."
"Queen, I know the arts of pleasure. Nakien was my teacher; I watched him
often. I put my hand on Aru's penis, to stoke his desire; his heat
increased. I could feel his heat; his balls like soup pots on the fire.
He was Womb, I was Fetus, tiny hand. I moved to the position called the
Tunic, but he ... fell asleep."
Tektu burst out laughing. He had gotten to his hands and knees, and was
trying to stand, but when he started to laugh, he fell over. He screamed,
but kept laughing. "You can't learn it all by watching, you, you!" and he
collapsed in helpless laughter. "Look at Aru! Look at him!"
Aru was as red as a sloe berry. But not as sour. He kissed Kahela, and
began to dance, pulling her along. The cloak went flying. She raised
her knees high, and smacked his penis from side to side as they danced.
She turned around, and he took her from behind, both of them jumping and
twisting. Then they stopped dancing and Aru bucked, and bulled, and
rammed, hard. Then he stallioned, seemingly forever. Nakien had never
done so well. Rhonan winning the stallion race had not done so well! The
men were standing around the fire, waiting for breakfast, blankets draped
over their shoulders. They stared, open-mouthed.
"Well, I guess they told the truth, they didn't couple last night," the
Queen said. Tektu was standing, and seemed at ease. "How much Hema did
you drink?" she asked.
"Be well, Queen. Just a swallow. But I'd like some of whatever the Prince
drinks."
"That, you drink from the eyes of a woman."
"Queen, I could have had those eyes. Yesterday, I didn't think they were
pretty. Now look at them."
Aru had started dogging, no longer stallioning in and out. He was hooting
and panting. Then with a sigh, he pulled out. He dropped to the ground,
taking Kahela down into a kiss. The Queen tossed the cloak over them.
"Warriors get busy!" she shouted. "Fires! Firewood! Water! Food! Work!
All of you! Slaves, the tent!"
Kahela stood up, taking the cloak and leaving Aru naked on the ground. "I
need to shit," she said.
* * * * * * * * * *
Kahela didn't need to shit, just to rest. When her heart returned to her
chest, she started back.
"Kahela,"
It was Hu.
"that was exquisite. And I will also pray to the Lady of the Wombs."
* * * * * * * * * *
"And now, Tektu, you will tell me everything. About the Kohiyossa." The
Queen sat on the ground by the fire. "Kahela has told me ... never mind
what! Just you, tell me all. I'll know if you lie, or leave anything
out."
Not all, Tektu decided. Let her punish me all she wants. But there were
some things, that he wanted her to know. Things the warriors of the
Kohiyossa wanted everyone to know: that the God who is not named, had
danced. At midsummer, on the bronze makers' ground. Tektu could
remember, word for word, Arkwan telling the story; Nakien dragging it out of
him. It was the day Tektu's life had changed forever; the day he became
the brother of a God. He tried to make it as convincing, as powerful, in
the telling, as it had been in the listening.
"Arkwan, a friend of King Taslan of the northern lands, was taken as a slave
by the bronze makers ..."
Aru sat up, listening intently. (How can he sit? Tektu wondered.)
Kahela stood in the shadows behind the Queen; Tektu avoided a glance in her
direction. He told the tale, from the dance at the bronze makers to
Arkwan's going with Nakien to the north. But he said nothing whatever
about the Kohiyossa.
"..., and my sister went north with Nakien bard, as wife or lover to
Nakien's slave. Bards wander. But I hope I'll see my sister some day."
Tektu stopped, and waited. The Queen knew something about the Kohiyossa,
so she would know he had left something out, and would punish him. But he
dared not tell her where the Kohiyossa was.
"And why to you wander on this road, son of Nohas, you and the daughter of
Kratik?"
"Queen, wisdom. I am going home. As for Kahela, who knows? Perhaps she
liked my penis, until she found a better."
"Kahnikos! Aru, fetch the rod."
"I will not."
"And by ash you will learn to address a Queen, archer! But for Tektu ...
I suppose you know he lost to you on purpose? You beat him more than you
agreed. I thought he might die, this morning. And another such beating
will not make him talk. But we can try another way. Tektu, let me tell
you what I already know: a baby was born, seed of the slave's penis; he had
yellow hair. His mother snatched him from under a tree; she was crushed.
And Nakien has ruled that this is the Kohiyossa of legend. What I do not
know is where this baby is."
"Happiness, Queen. He is sent to a village. I do not know where. Only
Nakien knows." Tektu said.
"Did Nute carry the baby when he left the bronze makers? Did he? You
will not say? And you, slow-shitting Kahela?" The Queen turned around.
Women, and some of the warriors, were around the fire. They minded their
tasks, did not look up. But there was no chatter and gossip. They were
listening.
The Queen spoke louder. "Well here is something you don't know, travelers.
Blood has been spilled! Nohas is fled. Battle rages at the village
of Kros!"
"Mother fled? Where? Blood? In my village? Who? Why?"
Queen Ishan shrieked. She pulled her dagger, a fine Tlossos, and ran at
Tektu, pointing at his eyes. He raised his arms. She threw the dagger
down to her left hand, and pricked his inside thigh before he could drop his
guard. "You are slow, headwoman's son," she said. "so the next time you
address me, remember. Or you may get pricked where you like it less."
"Happiness, Queen. Wealth, Queen. A long-rod slave boy, Queen. I do
not know why my mother is fighting, nor what side she has chosen. But I
fight for those who say that Arkwan is the God. Was the God, I mean. If
you have chosen the other side, I am your enemy."
Aru said: "Queen, honor. I too, fight for the unnamed God."
"I stand with the Prince, royal captain Ishan."
"Archer Aru, spearwoman Vaishga, I have not yet chosen a side. We do not
even know what are the sides. We have learned much from Tektu, if we can
believe him. We will go west, into the fighting, and not south to the
smoking water. We seek to learn more. If it is true, what Tektu says,
that all at the dance saw the God's face . . . well, when we know more, I
will hear your words. And then I will decide, and you will obey. Bow now
to the Queen's rule, or be my enemies."
Several warriors grabbed their weapons. Arrows were nocked. Vaishga
fastened her cloak, so she wouldn't wave her bare bottom in the air, knelt,
bowed, dropped to her elbows, held one hand in the other, and touched her
forehead to her thumbs. Aru, naked, did the same. And then, so did
Tektu. The warriors around the fire bowed, standing. Poradis was one of
them. Warriors at practice put down their weapons, and came running.
Someone shouted, "Sovereign Ishan, our captain, Long Life!" "Long Life,"
everyone shouted.
The Queen nodded, then broke into a grin which she hid with her hand. She
raised Aru to his feet.
"But whatever happens, we will remain loyal to the High King. He is strong
and we are weak."
* * * * * * * * * *
"By today, we would have been at the smoking water," the Queen explained.
"But we have traveled west this moon, heading into the fighting, instead of
south. We are not near any holy grove. We had not planned to sacrifice
on the road. But we do have the rams. Have you ever been fucked by a
ram?"
Kahela said: "Be well, Queen Ishan. The High Queen is only fucked by the
High King. He wears horns, and they only pretend to cut his balls off.
Why don't you do it that way? Have some man play the part of the Ram?"
"The rams aren't so bad. Even if they do think I'm the worst-smelling ewe
they've ever covered. The hard part will be the dance. But if we don't do
it, then my kingdom will not have sacrificed this year, at all. The Lady
will be offended. When she chooses lambs and calves for next spring, and
babies, we won't get any. Can you sing Sasoyhan's Rides?"
"Dominion, Royal Captain ... "
The Queen interrupted: "Only the warriors call me 'Captain'."
Kahela continued as if the Queen hadn't spoken: "I know all Sasoyhan's
responses and songs. I learned them as a girl: I was sure I would dance
Sasoyhan on my wedding night. I dreamed of all my friends, sick with envy,
watching the husband I had won, fuck me like a hero from an old song. And I
dreamed of blood on my bridal gown, raised like a flag the next morning,
But things ... Well, anyway. But isn't the Bride of the Centaur
supposed to be a bride? Or at least, be married?"
"But who? Adjehan is a treasure; I love her dearly, but can you see her as
blushing Sasoyhan? Or Runad as the Horny Centaur? He'd be too scared to
speak, and he wouldn't get his rod up. But Aru ... Aru and you ...
great-grandchildren will be told of this dancing of Sasoyhan! The Lady will
say we made her praises last forever, and send twin calves to every cow."
* * * * * * * * * *
Tektu sang the part of Rhonan. They did not have a cart, so Tektu pointed
to empty air.
.Smell the buds and garlands, and feel the polished wood ;
golden are the carvings and, the wheels are round and good.
Your line will last forever, when this cunt the Centaur gores ;
get ready for the journey to the home that will be yours.
Where penis of the Centaur goes inside!
What a thing to mention to a bride!
I know you did not notice that this woman has been wed -
there are many blossoms here for you to take to bed.
Centaur you are deathless and - we your praises sing :
so find a willing maiden girl, and with her have a fling ;
for this one, her husband has a rod!
With a husband I don't need a God!
.Now that you are married may your husband and you agree.
Bound to your new altar from your father's you are free.
Rhonan takes you riding and, the two Sky-Father's boys
can let you have a sample of your coming marriage joys -
his body into yours will be as one!
I hadn't realized marriage could be fun!
You're the mistress now so you unbraid the flowing hair,
and hunger for his penis or you won't get anywhere.
To every man a maiden and, to every maiden man
and so we see the Gods above are doing what they can.
May you have the blessing of Good Luck!
Aren't we going somewhere for a fuck?
.Keep lusting for his body ; you can overcome defeats
and be the one they turn to when the village council meets.
I hope that he will love you, and King Thunder give you sons,
I hope they will not turn out to be disobedient ones.
Spoiled little boys are often seen!
I will rule my household like a Queen!
Smell the buds and garlands and, feel the polished wood ;
golden are the carvings and, the wheels are round and good.
Your line will last forever when, this cunt the Centaur gores ;
get ready for the journey to the home that will be yours.
Blessing on the beautiful new bride!
And just when does the penis go inside?
Kahela climbed onto the ox, and Tektu led it around in a circle.
The Queen said: "You didn't miss a line. But can't you give it more - sex?
With a cart, Sasoyhan bends over in front, with Rhonan behind her, and on
'her husband has a ROD!' he thrusts hips forward. It's all done with the
look on her face. No one can see, because of the garlands."
"But we haven't got a cart - Goddess cunt! - I mean, Honor Queen Ishan we
haven't got a cart. What can we do, if she's on the ox and I'm leading
it?"
"Marwat, you lead the ox."
Tektu said:, "Queen, it won't work. Does Rhonan go for his friend's bride,
naked? Does the shy virgin Sasoyhan come out, naked? But if they are
both clothed on the ox, how can we make it seem she is being fucked? How
can we make it seem we are stripping to fuck, unless we do? And the real
Sasoyhan wouldn't fuck if people could see her."
"Sasoyhan wears a cloak, but no tunic. She's young, only just tattooed.
And for you, just pull your cloth loose, like this, and pull your penis ...
Great Lady, Tektu, I hardly touched you. You're fast, but are you
lasting?"
"Queen, it's just, I've been thinking about the rams."
"Keep it up. If you can sing Rhonan with a stiff rod, all the better."
* * * * * * * * * *
In the morning Kahela slipped away from Aru, without waking him. She had
practiced with Tektu late into the moonless night, while Aru slept. A lot
of practice, for what was only the first dance and song: the wedding
procession. Two more dances, four more songs, to practice today. They
must dance Sasoyhan's Rides tonight. The Queen would go to the Ram
tomorrow. If their count was right, the sliver of the new moon would be
seen tomorrow night, and then the Great Sacrifice would be over.
Warriors were standing around the fire, rubbing their sleepy eyes, blankets
draped over their shoulders, enjoying the rising sun,. Each had a dagger,
and most had bow or spear as well. They had their belts on, for the
daggers, but would not put on their loincloths until after practice.
Kahela had never seen so many tattooed penises: her village was too poor to
hold a midsummer dance. They were spectacular - Tektu's clean black
spiral, Marwat's dots like a dappled fawn - each was different, the work of
many hands. The warriors stood close, with arms across each other's
shoulders, or hand in hand. Each companion was greeted with a firm clasp
on the shoulder, a word of friendship, a penis squeeze, a hug. Vaishga, the
only woman warrior, was greeted with hugs and feels of her cunt. They
insulted each other in jest. They wrestled. Marwat was dozing on his feet,
and Vaishga smacked his bottom with a javelin butt, without him seeing it
coming. Everyone laughed, Marwat most of all. Tektu was greeted in
companionship like the others. The Queen would not allow him his weapons,
except during practice, but the men acted as if he were one of them, and not
their captive. He was teaching them the fast shooting he had learned from
Arkwan. Poradis too, was embraced. There was a potent smell, the smell of
many penises together. This was the sign of Companion, the God who loves
the sacrifice that one friend makes for another.
Kahela felt the lure of this warrior companionship; she was as good with her
bow as Poradis. But only Vaishga, who never let a penis in her cunt, and
who had no special friend among the men, was accepted. The men would not
accept the Prince's bed-mate - not even if she could shoot as well as Tektu.
Kahela knew that more than anything, Aru longed for this fellowship, this
companionship, but the men gave him respect instead. No man would say to
the Prince: "you stink like a horse." No man would say: "I'll fuck your
woman, you see if I don't." No warrior would, when clasping Aru's penis,
jab him under the foreskin with a fingernail, while watching his face to see
if he winced. No one would trip him up and grind his face into the dirt,
and stomp on his fingers until he cried "you win," or do any of the other
things which are signs of love among warriors. Aru now took strokes for
mistakes at practice, like the others, but so far the men had not warmed to
him. This morning, for the first time, the warriors looked at Kahela with
the same cautious respect they gave the Prince.
They seemed a little too cautious. They looked guilty; even Poradis and
Tektu. Poradis's eyes flickered. Kahela went to search, in the
direction he had glanced. She found a body. A boy, or rather a young
man, for he wore a man's loincloth. There was an arrow in his back. In
his hand was the leg of a sheep, the stolen prize he had lost his life for.
He had many wounds; some had turned ugly. He was not skin and bones, but
in the past, to judge from his fingernails, he had starved or been very
sick, and he was very small for a man. Perhaps he was a boy, and just wore
the cloth. He was lying face down, but even so Kahela could see that his
belly and paps were swollen from some disease. He was covered with mud and
the stains of the forest ; he stank like a shitpile. Kahela looked him
over, and gasped. The arrow shaft went in just under his shoulder blade, but
the arrow had been broken off, and the fledging was not in sight. But
what drew Kahela's eye was the bottom - the narrow loincloth was twisted up
his crack, and his bottom was a mass of jagged scars. This young man's
life had been a life of beatings - beatings till the skin broke, and more
beating before the wounds healed.
Kahela wept. No one should be beaten like that. Anyone would shoot a
thief, but to die for a bit of mutton! Did the man who beat him so
cruelly, make him steal? Kahela thought of her father's whip, how it made
her feel punished and ashamed. How much it hurt. How much she hated him
for whipping her. But her bottom had no scars on it. And her father
usually let her off, even when she had been very wicked. Had she told him
how much she loved him? Queen Ishan was heading into battle, and this age
of the green Earth was coming to an end. Would Kahela ever see Kratik
again? Could it have been his father, who beat this boy so much, who made
him steal? Could any father do that?
"Who shot the thief?" Kahela asked the warriors. They looked at the
ground, even Tektu. "This has nothing to do with fighting for the young
God, for Arkwan," Tektu said. "I won't say who shot the arrow."
"Be well, Princess; arrow luck in battle. Whoever shot him, the man was
stealing." It was a spearman. Dan-something, Hek-Danniadae, that was
it.
"I am not a Princess, Hek-Danniadae spearman. The Queen will punish you,
and me too, if she hears you say so."
"Princess, long life. Hek-Danniadae is my brother. I am Ohrsos."
He was being insolent; he was Hek-Danniadae. Certainly his name was not
"Arse." Kahela went to wake the Queen.
The Queen did not care who shot the little thief. "Give him to the
corpse-birds. Why should we bury him? Carry him away. We'll be gone
before he smells. Ohrsos, cut his penis off and skin it - someone may
recognize the tattoo. I want to know which village is sending out
thieves."
Ohrsos pulled his dagger and cut the man's belt. "Many grandsons, royal
captain. He, I mean she, is not a man."
"I can see that, Ohrsos." The Queen looked at the body. "She has no
tattoos, but she had become a woman - obviously. There are wounds, turned
ugly, but not many old scars. Turn her over. Great Lady - look at that.
I want to see - spread her legs and lift her. I want to see her cunt.
And her shit-eye. Fuck with fire! Look at those scars!"
The Queen touched the body, feeling the scars. "This girl was raped,
often, since she was small. She was beaten and starved. Before
midsummer, she escaped, and has been living in the woods. She must have
known she was carrying a child. Her belt is grass rope, badly made; she
lacked the skill to set snares, I guess. She has eaten through the summer,
nuts and berries, but she must have hungered for meat, to come into a
war-camp. And with the baby - Great Lady, how long ago was she shot? She
is still warm."
The Queen plunged her Tlossos into the dead woman's belly, and pulled out a
baby boy, large but blue and clearly dead. Kahela held the boy against
her chest, under her cloak, and slapped his back, trying to coax him to
breathe.
The Queen looked away. "Warriors, you've let the fire go out. Ohrsos,
Tektu: carry away the body. All of you - any more thieves, any strangers,
capture them - I want to question them, torture them. We are heading into
a war. Kahela, when you are ready."
Kahela walked behind the body, holding the dead boy against her chest as if
he were still alive. They laid the woman on a broad stone, where the
carrion birds, the tombs of the bravest, would feast. Kahela laid the dead
boy on his side, his mouth to his mother's teat, and his hand on it, as if
it were an honor cup.
They returned toward the camp, but Aru came out looking for them, and
wanted to be taken to the bodies. Kahela took him, and let Ohrsos and
Tektu return to their chores. She wondered why Ohrsos's father had named
him Arse. His brother's name was worse, now she thought about it, at least
for a boy. In the old tongue "Hek-Danniadae" meant "Clitoris like Dannia's"
Aru knelt down and kissed the dead boy on the temple. "They said you were
trying to get the boy to breathe, that you walked away with him at your
breast. He is not cold. Could he.. ."
"Prince, he is dead."
Aru cut a leafy branch and laid it across the mother and child. "She was
young. Some village that sends children out to steal."
"Didn't your mother tell you how much this girl was beaten and raped?
Prince."
"Archer. So, she was raped."
Kahela took away the branch, picked up the dead boy, and handed him to the
Prince. Then she turned the mother's body over. Aru looked at the scars.
Around the shit-eye there were scars on top of scars, a ring of bumpy,
cut-up flesh. Kahela lifted the body's hips and spread the knees so Aru
could see the terrible scarring of the cunt. Kahela said, "Prince, the man
who did this: you are holding his son. She would not let him do it to her
child, so she ran. She is not so very young, just small. She never got
enough to eat. She was a slave, bought to be fucked. Fucked as a little
girl without tattoos."
Kahela's eyes had a sudden sight of Hu's bare penis sliding into her.
"That was different, Sky-Father!" she cried aloud.
Aru said: "They should have stopped the man who did this, in his village.
We should have helped her, not killed her. If people were kinder, she
would have tried asking us for food, and not stealing it. People should
..." Aru stopped suddenly, looking ashamed. He dropped the dead baby.
The dead woman was on her belly, bits of her insides coming out through
the gash the Queen had cut. No one put back the leafy branch. The Prince
looked at his lover's face, then at the ground. He seemed frightened.
Kahela wanted to talk of something else. "Why do two of the warriors look
exactly alike, and why are they called 'Bottom' and 'Goddess Cunt'?" Not
many knew the old tongue, so she gave the two warriors' names in ordinary
speech. She wondered if Aru even knew what the names meant.
"They are twins, of course," the Prince answered. Their shit-eyes, their
bottoms ... their step-father ... like ..." Aru pointed to the dead
woman. "They have scars around their shit-eyes, scars on their bottoms so
there is no skin. It was their step-father. He died. Two moons later,
on the day of Purging, they walked naked into the center of their village
with bloody daggers held high above their heads. They had killed their
mother. They asked the village for judgment. They asked no forgiveness.
The village knew what their step-father did, but perhaps not how bad it
was - but they could not ignore the scars. Killing a parent is not an
ordinary killing. It was her family who should strike first. But her
own brother refused to club the boys. His sister was as much to blame as
their step-father, he said. And in all the village not one person was
willing to harm them. An old priest gave the ruling - they must make the
circuit of the village, and every one, to the smallest child, must strike
them with a whip; then they must be driven from the village and never
return. And so it was done, unwillingly. The villagers did not want to
punish them at all."
"But they killed their mother!"
"I suppose they have ordinary names, but do not wish to use anything from
their parents."
"They didn't have to kill her!"
"Many woman feel that way, but in the warrior band they are respected.
They are loved. But they can't bear to fuck a shit-eye, or to have theirs
fucked, and women fear that seed of such penises will kill them inside. I
make my slave girl fuck them, when she has been very bad."
The Queen came out to fetch Kahela. "Sasoyhan's Rides," she said.
"Practice."
* * * * * * * * * *
Tektu, with his penis hanging out of his cloth, mounted behind Kahela, who
was leaning forward over the ox's neck. She was naked except for a cloak,
hanging down to one side, and he swung his cloak to the other side. The
cloaks did not hide much. He snuggled his soft penis against Kahela's cunt,
as he had during the practice. But this was not a practice. It ought to
feel different. He was dancing a holy dance; a sacrifice of seed to the
Lady - to the mother of the God who is not named. But Tektu could not feel
Her touch. He thought of Arkwan's holy penis. He thought of the tattoo
that bound that penis with his own. Now his penis played a part in this
most holy of all sacrifices, and he felt nothing. It felt no defferent
than the times they had practiced. Did the Lady not care about a sacrifice
of seed, from his penis?
They sang the cart song, as Marwat prodded the ox. Tektu tried to stiffen
by thinking about a ram's penis fucking the Queen, but his thoughts strayed
to the Chief's rod, surely the thickest ever to piss on the green Earth.
Since they had joined the Queen's company, Tektu had slept with the warriors
- he had been embraced and had his penis suckled like the others. But when
a warrior had pointed to his own penis, Tektu had said he would rather not.
The warriors laughed, and Tektu's shit-eye had been tenderly but
thoroughly raped. Then the Chief Warrior showed him his tree branch.
"Front or back?" he had asked. Tektu had run his tongue under the Chief's
foreskin, the way Nakien had shown him, and had nearly choked on the flood.
"He yah!" Kahela screamed. The watching warriors laughed. Tektu's rod had
slipped past her doorposts, and was pounding to be let further in. Kahela
pretended to be a virgin having her first peak of pleasure, and the warriors
hooted. Kahela shifted, pulling her cunt off Tektu's rod, which was jammed
in at a painful angle, and sat on top of it instead. She worked her hips,
the ox plodded, and Tektu soon burst, leaving a patch of wet on the ox's
neck. Their cloaks, draped on either side, hid what was happening, but the
warriors watched, as exited as spying children. Only Aru scowled. Looking
at her lover, Kahela touched Tektu's ribbon of seed, and put a drop on her
forehead, to scare away the Gelded Ones.
Adjehan and Runad, who danced the groom's parents, did a dance of welcome,
and Marwat led the ox around the family altar. The song to the green
Earth, and the dance for the animals who give themselves as food, went
smoothly. Now was the Hema song. Of them all, Kahela knew this one best,
but every practice today had been a disaster. Kahela touched the seed on
her forehead, then licked her finger. "Hema, help us to praise you," she
prayed. She choked, she stumbled. The Queen had to prompt her with:
"Then Rhonan took the honor when the stallion race was run ..." How could
I forget that line, Kahela thought - Aru can stallion longer than any man.
Kahela pledged a whipstroke for every mistake, as Hu used to do. The
revenge song went better, with everyone shouting "Kill him!" together.
Kahela put down the Hema skin. She danced away from the others, and alone,
she danced the blowing out of a lamp. She slipped out of her cloak,
covering her face with her hands. Then she put her hands over her cunt.
Then she moved one hand to cover her teats. Then she pretended to have a
shocking thought, and moved that hand to cover her shit-eye. The warriors
began to tap their weapons on the ground, and to chant "Sasoyhan, Sasoyhan."
Kahela lay down on her side, with knees to her chest, and with one hand
over her shit-eye. Aru danced in as the Centaur, naked, pretending to look
for Sasoyhan with a lamp. The dance was going badly. He should have been
stiff before coming in - what sort of a centaur was he? Kahela, as virgin
Sasoyhan, caught sight of his penis, pretended surprise, then turned on her
back and spread her knees as wide as they would go. But the joke was
spoiled by Aru's limp puppy-tail.
The Centaur danced over and knelt with knees spread over Sasoyhan's head,
his limp penis on her face. His balls on her eyes, his tip dangled in her
open mouth. She used her lips and tongue on his tip, and he stiffened
nicely, but then he stood up, quickly. Kahela thought: he can't be worried
about his seed. Not the everlasting Aru.
They danced the nipple pinching and the thigh caress, the ear nuzzle and the
cunt kiss; Aru's dancing was elegant, formal. But every time his penis
touched her, between her breasts, under her ear, up the crack of her bottom,
he pulled away quickly, as if his solid rod was a robin's egg, or a spider's
web, and would wither at a touch. Cutting a few moves, he moved to the
cunt fuck. This was not proving much of a ride. The Queen would be
disappointed.
Aru whispered in Kahela's ear. "Remember all the cows and ewes; they'll
want their calves and lambs. The Queen is rather short tempered - don't
you find? And you are surrounded by her armed men. So if you should
happen to think of running away before the dance is over, you should think
again. And you have been a bit naughty."
Kahela had no idea what he was talking about. She spread her ...
"Yaghhaha," she screamed. The pain was intense. Was he fucking her with
a dagger? But he pulled out - she could see his penis. Ram, in it came
again. Ahihyah, that hurts. Ou-w-YAH! But that - feels good. Ram!
in again. Agha! He's right, I can't run away. And the Queen won't blame
him - it doesn't look like he's hurting ... Huhua! How is he making it hurt
so much? If I could figure it out ... Ram! If only this didn't feel so
good I could think better ....
Aru switched from ram to stallion. The quicker, faster strokes were not as
painful. The pleasure was unbearable. Kahela tried to get away. He
held her. She squirmed and flailed - she couldn't control her need to make
it stop. He switched to wolf, not pulling his tip quite out on the out
stroke. That made it less intense. She remembered Nakien saying: "We call
this wolf because it's like dog, but wilder - no one knows how wolves
really fuck." She hoped Aru would stallion again. It felt so good when
it felt so good she couldn't stand it. He pulled out altogether. For a
moment, she thought he had burst, and was disappointed - she liked his usual
dog finish. But he was not finished.
He had fucked her with no pretense of dancing, but now he began to sway his
hips, and the warriors began the chant. "The CENtaur entered SASoyhan and
SASoyhan was GLAD ..." Sasoyhan began to sway and twist. The Centaur
bit her cunt her belly her nipples her lips ouuw ouuw. Kahela was aware
of Sasoyhan feeling intense pleasure from the bites and losing herself in
them, while she, Kahela, remained apart. The bites were hard. Kahela was
glad for Sasoyhan's pleasure but felt neither pleasure nor pain, just the
bites. This was Nakien's "Red Mountain." It was like Hema. But Kahela
doubted she'd be quite satisfied with Hema, after this.
Aru dropped his look of calm. Or perhaps Aru was gone and Centaur had
come, and Centaur looked at Sasoyhan with desire. Centaur bulled, although
it was not exactly bulling. Not exactly like any fucking Nakien taught -
slow, for one thing. They swayed deeply and widely with the chanting and
the pounding spear butts, and fucked in rhythm, quick ins and slow outs.
They were now standing now lying now rolling now over now under, and the
chanting pounded and pounded on. Aru's desire was overwhelming, and
Kahela let her body, let Sasoyhan, slip away, entirely his. But she,
Kahela, remained apart.
Kahela kissed the Centaur's pap, and caressed his strong thighs, and felt
pleasure not in her lips, not in her hands, but in his body. Desire
gripped her, stronger than any pleasure in her own body. She began to
scratch and bite, drawing blood from his penis, his paps, his lips.
Briefly, Aru resisted. But his desire proved stronger; his own body
slipped from his mind. Kahela owned his body; and felt that body's desire to
let its waters flow. She slowly brought the Centaur's penis in. It did
not take long.
* * * * * * * * * *
Lying in the dark, Kahela felt a touch. "Hu," she whispered. "O, Hu, I
... Aru,"
"I understand. And you must have known. Tanyata. And I like your Aru.
He can be a hero, I think, and will be my brother's champion. I was
there tonight, even if you never thought of me. It was - nice. And the
Lady was there. I felt Her hands reaching into your womb. Taking my seed.
So the baby - well ..." But from now on Aru will have to fuck you on his
own."
"And Kahela..."
"Yes, Hu."
"Don't fight the Sky-Father."
* * * * * * * * * *
Marwat danced in as the priest, with his pot of coals, and pretended to look
for Kahela's cloak. Finding the couple sleeping on it, he pulled it out
from under them. He held it up and pointed to a spot, where there was, of
course, no virgin blood. The warriors laughed. Throughout the song he
kept pointing to the non-existent spot, and got a laugh each time: He
worked his rod up, and thrust it into the gathered robe, shot his seed, and
got more laughs. He had done nothing of the sort during the practices.
Stained with red the bridal gown, it is her father's pride,
and much Good Luck to him, and his, who gave the virgin bride.
And every bride will keep the man who stains a bridal gown:
his love is bound up in the bonds we see here red and brown.
The penis to the gown is drawn, to see the virgin blood;
he longs to mix the color with another milky flood.
He pushes in, pulls out again, the woolen cunt he fills
with milk, but soon the penis feels the pains of many ills.
For all the ills and sicknesses that flocked around the pair,
and plagued the bride were trapped inside when she untied her hair.
The Demons gather 'round the robe and sicknesses in throngs,
and that is why you pay the priest - for sacrificial songs.
Demons all: I warn you now, this flag is white and red,
a shield against your mischief will protect this maiden's head.
Their travels safe from highwaymen; on lucky roads they'll roam,
and so we ask politely: please all Demons to go home.
The priest cuts up the bridal gown, dismembers limb from limb;
he sings with love the verses of the gown-disposal hymn.
A robe of white with stain of red will Fire's altar dress;
no penis in this woolen cunt should seek his happiness.
* * * * * * * * * *
Marwat pretended to rip up Kahela's cloak, and burn it. Aru got up,
naked. He was no longer the Centaur but the son of a man. But his erect
rod was Rod - the undying god of the fuck. Rod of the Centaur - that part
of the son of a man, that partakes of the everlasting. He danced waking
up, rubbing his sleepy eyes. The son of a man picked up the Hema skin, and
stood beside the priest, squeezing a drop onto the fire. Then he danced
waking Sasoyhan up. Sasoyhan touched Rhonan's penis, the Hema skin,
Centaur's Rod, the Fire on the altar, and finally, no longer a goddess, she
took the hand of the son of a man, in front of his homestead altar. Hand
in hand, they tossed grain into the Fire. The son of a man sang to his
wife:
My father here made sacrifice; our family altar stands.
Let friends and kin their own wives win! I take you by the hands.
Good Luck and Hospitality, Lord Sun, and Fruitful Earth,
all say you'll live for long and give to all my children, birth.
The son of a man spoke aside to Rhonan, but pointing to his own penis:
O Rhonan use our penis, and make Sasoyhan desire
like other wives so all our lives we'll have wood for the fire.
You can make her fuckable and make her want to please,
our penis won't get lonely if she'll spread apart her knees!
Then the priest questioned, and Rhonan answered :
Who took her? Who possessed her? Who was He, who had her first?
Hema had her first of all; He was the first one in.
On such a ride He took her - just luck they're home again.
And to whom did Hema give her? Who was He, who had her next?
A randy fucking Centaur took the gift Lord Hema gave.
and without a little Hema - I doubt she will behave.
And who from Centaur had her? And what husband was her third?
I hope that Fire gives to Rod the praise that He deserves :
He's the only reason why - she at this Fire serves.
But will Fire pass her on? Her mortal husband begs!
A lucky man, for Fire gives, a hundred years of life ;
and he'll be rich and happy if - he can get back his wife!
The son of a man sang to his wife again :
This is the world I give you : spend your life with me ;
all the Gods will love you ; mistress shall you be
of all the little rascals who run in and out the door -
some of 'em with two feet - some of 'em with four.
I want you here beside me ; the gifts we give today,
give we will to Fire still when both of us are gray ;
with little rams and baby lambs still running after you,
some of 'em on four feet and some of 'em on two.
Then Rhonan sang to Sasoyhan :
Look kindly on your husband and from time to time, behave
you are the mistress here but still - don't drive him to his grave!
The love you give to strangers will make them friends anew :
some'll walk on four feet and some'll walk on two.
And may the Lady give the gifts a grandmother enjoys
lambs and pigs and calves and kids and little girls and boys.
Wombs'll fill with blessings till you can't take any more :
some of 'em with two feet - some of 'em with four.
Then Rhonan pronounced the invocation of The King :
Wind and rain and thunder and - the battle-axe of light ;
the captain of the horses of the blast :
the ground that we stand on shivers at the sight,
and trembles when your thunderbolt is cast.
Like the fury of the wind his love for her shall be ;
her womb shall bear the stallions of the Sun :
beautiful and fearless, powerful and free -
and among them make her husband one!
Finally, Aru took the ash rod in his hand - the same rod he had beaten Tektu
with - and spoke the doorpost words; the words of the son of a man, to
Sasoyhan. With them, the Great Sacrifice began. All that they did and
said, until the new moon rose, was now sacred to the Lady of the Wombs:
All that will ever be under this roof,
and all who will pass through the door,
all of our animals, all of my kin,
and all who will sleep on the floor ;
all we are given, all that we grow,
our pottery, barley, and wine ;
you are the Queen of all who live here
and mistress of all that is mine.
* * * * * * * * * *
The Ram was staked, the knife sharpened, the Queen naked, except for a
necklace of sheepskin and the ewe's horns on her head. The drums sounded.
The cymbals clanged, and then fell silent. The dangerous part of the
Great Sacrifice had begun. The faint cackle of the Great Fire, and the
Queen's footsteps, were the only sound. The last rays of the sun touched
the eastern hills.
"A horse - a horse and rider!"
The Queen stopped. Then continued. Whatever it was, whoever it was, would
have to wait. If the thinnest sliver of the new moon was seen before the
sacrifice was over, it would be too late.
Aru took a hand of archers. As they ran across the grassy hillside toward
the rider, the rider tried to urge his horse in their direction. The horse,
a dappled mare, shook him off. Then she decided to go look at the
strangers anyway. Aru sent an archer back for honey-cakes - or anything
the horse might like. "Weapons down, men," he ordered. He was no
captain, no chief - but for once, he was going to act the prince. A man
who could ride a horse was certain to be important.
Aru and his archers ran to where the man had fallen. Aru, not looking
directly at him as he lay sprawled on the ground, addressed him: "Well met
on the roads, if you be a friend."
The fallen rider did not get up. He said: "Water." Aru sent a man for
some. The rider had a bit of rope around his neck, the knot sealed with
dried clay. The clay had the impression of a seal. The seal showed a
ship. Aru bowed.
"Health, Wvaksa. I am Aru, son of Ishan, Queen. Health and our loyalty
to the High King."
The High King's messenger - for there could be no doubt of that - said
nothing until the water came. He ate the honey cakes Aru had intended for
his horse. Then he tried to stand - and could not. Aru and an archer
helped him stand, and they had to help him with his loincloth. He pissed
for a long time. Then they had to hold him as he squatted and shitted,
and Aru made his archer wipe the messenger's shit-eye with grass. But then
he was able to stand on his own, stiff but erect.
"Prince Aru, what do you do, bringing a company of warriors here?"
"Wvaksa, we hope to stand with honor."
"Arrow-luck, son of Ishan. That is a careful answer. But on which side
do you stand?"
"And also arrow-luck to the Great King - and our service."
"All you desire, Prince. And in that King's service: answer his
messenger!"
"May the King's messenger find joy in our welcome, and what he seeks, and
honor - from the Queen."
"Ishan is here! Take me to her."
"Health, King's messenger. She is busy."
The messenger turned red with fury, and walked away from the Prince without
a word, toward the gathered warriors. There was a shout. Men turned
toward him, nocking arrows. The Queen turned to look - and the Ram butted
her, smashing into her ribs and catching her breast with the tip of a
flower-decorated horn. The men converged, the Chief slit the Ram's
throat; Tektu plunged his flint into the ball sack and pulled out the balls
and cut them free while the ram's heart's blood was still spurting onto the
ground. An archer held the Queen's breast-wound closed with his hand,
while Kahela, who had a bit of bard-lore, hugged the Queen's chest until she
began to breathe again.
The messenger arrived, with Aru close behind him. The messenger could see
that the Queen was not going to die, at least not at once. He gave Aru
just a moment, then grabbed his arm. "Prince Aru - there is no time.
Warriors - no not warriors - weavers and shepherds, but with bows and
spears, are coming here. They were grabbing at my horse's hooves. Form
up. Find a defensive position. They are many. But real warriors can
scatter them."
The warriors, even the Chief, looked at the Prince. Hek-Danniadae said:
"Should we fight them? Do we know they are enemies? Perhaps they fight
for the Kohiyossa." The Chief smashed Hek-Danniadae across the face with
a spear, but it was too late. "So, you are on the side of this Kohiyossa!"
the messenger shouted.
Prince Aru sat down, and scratched behind his ear. He picked up a skin of
mead. "Messenger," he said, "the King's seal is very nice." Aru took a
little drink. "But at the moment, I have a few warriors, and you don't
have a horse. I have her. I suggest you tell me what you know, and tell
it quickly."
The messenger paused only for a heartbeat. "I do not know if this mob, is
for this Kohiyossa, or not. I don't know any thing about any Kohiyossa,
except the old tales. I asserted the High King's authority, and they would
not listen - and they would have killed me - a sealed messenger - if I
hadn't gotten away."
Aru stopped the messenger. "Ohrsos, Adjehan, Tektu - carry my mother up to
those trees - only Adjehan stays with her. Everyone else - we'll fight on
the larger hill. Fill water skins. Go now. Messenger - I haven't
finished with you. Everyone fights - women and slaves. Let Tektu and the
other captives have their weapons. Keep your eye on the messenger - hold
him if you need to. We'll let the enemy have the oxen and the sheep - if
they are the enemy - if it comes to a fight. Chief - choose the battle
lines on the hill."
The Chief would not have chosen to fight on the hill. He thought it was
foolish. Aru had never seen a battle, since the High King had kept the
peace for many years - but the Chief had seen many. The Chief knew that he
was a better battle leader than the Prince. And the Prince was, he kept
saying, just an archer. But choosing which side to fight - against enemies
who might or might not be enemies. Arresting King's messengers. And
making a parley with the mob that was coming. The Prince would do all
that better than he could. And if there was one thing the Chief knew, it
was that in battle any leader was better than a fight about who would be
leader. So the Chief formed the men on the hill. "Warriors," he
bellowed. "We need to look like warriors, and throw fear into weavers and
shepherds. Polish your spear-points. When the horn sounds - all move
together. Make those shepherds shit their cloths. Slaves, women - try to
look like warriors - hold your weapons straight. If it comes to fighting,
try not to get in the way. Warriors, load up with arrows - fill your
packs. When we come down from this hill, we won't come back - any weapons
we leave behind will be the enemy's. All carry water - this will be a long
one. If scattered, form up again if you can - you know how. We have
practiced; they have not; we are warriors, slaughtering weavers. And you
are the best of the best. Arrow-luck and safety to the Prince!"
"The Prince!" they all shouted.
"Prince - let me put a few men in the trees - a few at least," the Chief
pleaded. "Let the mob think that we are more than we are. That they have
walked into a trap. That we are all around them."
The fastest runners of the enemy came into view. It was too late for any
changes now. The Prince shouted: "Archers. When you hear the fast
drumbeat, shoot at the men around the spokesman of the enemy. Fast
shooting, as we've practiced. A trio of arrows - no more. Most of you are
not accurate at fast shooting yet, but shoot fast anyway - we want to
terrify. When you hear the slow signal, shoot slowly and carefully, pick
your man, shoot him, and kill him. Dodge arrows, but don't use your
shields so much you don't shoot - keep the enemy busy. These shepherds
have not seen battle - harry them like wolves! Arrow-luck and safety!"
"The Prince!" they all shouted again. The foremost runners of the enemy,
who were looking at the ground, tracking hoofprints, heard the shout and
looked at the warriors gathered on the hill. They turned and ran away.
The Queen's warriors waited. The sun sank behind the western hills.
Flocks of birds in the forest rose crawing into the sky - the enemy was
moving into position. Well, the Prince had chosen to stand on this hill,
and stand they must. They could only hope that the enemy, moving through
the trees, would not find their wounded Queen. It began to grow dark.
The Prince and the Chief whispered to each other. The mob appeared, and
advanced up the western slope of the hill until they were just out of arrow
shot - they thought. Someone in the mob shouted "What make you here,
warriors?"
The Prince sounded the drum, a fast tarattat. There was just enough light
for the attacking mob to see a little commotion among the archers on the
hill. Then the archers stood still again. Only then did the arrows,
fired in a high arc, descend on the front rank of the attacking crowd.
They raised their shields - but the arrows were so many and they came so
fast, that most under that deadly rain were hit by an arrow, or two. The
mob shot back - ineffective at the distance, shooting uphill.
Then the Chief of the Queen's warriors bellowed: "Bow before the High King;
or die!" Runad, who was at least thin and bald, stepped out in front of
the ranks of spearmen. The mob of weavers and shepherds, looking up, could
see the proud bald head, red in the light of sunset, and the glinting
spearpoints behind him, black against a dark sky. A ram's horn sounded,
and the wall of spears began to move slowly down the hill. Arrows,
invisible in the dark, landed thick as hailstones on the weavers and
shepherds at the foot of the hill. There were screams, and shouted orders.
Many bowed to the ground - which did not protect them from the arrows.
Some shot back in the direction of the spearmen. But more and more began
to run away. The darkness of a moonless night had fallen.
The drum sounded again. The Queen's warriors, no longer shooting, moved
in a block across the meadow. There were many bowing men, faces to the
ground, proclaiming loyalty to the High King. The Queen's warriors took
their weapons, stripped them, and tied them with their own belts. They
wrapped each captive's head with his own loincloth. But most of the enemy
had retreated to the forest. When there was no one on the grassland still
shooting, the Queen's warriors began gathering the captives together.
Tektu looked about for the Prince, or the Chief, but did not find either, so
he took two archers to where he had left the Queen and Adjehan. The Queen
was comfortable, and well enough hidden, in the dark, so after telling her
of the battle, he left the two archers, and returned. A fire had been lit on
the hilltop, and he went to it. The Chief had arranged his warriors for
defense, in case the enemy who had fled to the forest, regrouped and
attacked. Inside the lines, he was preparing to torture the captives.
"Heat more spearpoints," he said loudly. The captives still had their
heads wrapped in their cloths. "Find the whips we use on the rams. Bring
the ox - we don't want to drag them ourselves." The men helping him turned
the captives, who had their wrists tied to their ankles, on their faces, so
their bottoms were high in the air. They tied a cord around each penis,
behind the balls. Only one resisted, and was beaten; the others were
silent, and did not resist.
Tektu whispered in the Chief's ear: "Chief, the Queen is safe. She seems
well, and comfortable. I am no bard, but if there was any worse than a
broken rib or two, I think we would know it by now. I want to tell the
Prince - do you know where he is?"
The Chief said the Prince was with the wounded, where they had camped. As
Tektu headed in that direction, he heard his name called by a captive.
"Tektu! Is that you? Have you become one of the High King's warriors?"
The voice was that of Erdiosh, his best friend from his village.
* * * * * * * * * *
Tektu glanced at his friend; turned back to the Chief. "Chief, I know one
of the captives."
"Many are from the village of Nohas. I want you here when I question
them."
"Chief - this captive. May I take him now to the Prince? He may speak -
without your tortures."
The Chief whispered: "All men speak better without torture, Tektu. It is
the fear of torture that loosens tongues. Take your friend. Tell him
that you'd like to help him, as a friend - but you need him to tell you what
he knows."
Tektu said loudly: "I'll deal with this captive first. I'll take him for
special torture." He led Erdiosh, hands bound, by the cord tied to his
balls. The boy's head was wrapped in his cloak - he wore no loincloth.
When they were out of earshot, Tektu said: "Erdiosh, one thing - is my
mother alive?"
"Courage, Friend. She is dead."
"Tell me how it happened."
"There was a quarrel, about Nute and the Wvaksa. Taucon priest said that the
peddlers were liars, that they had stolen you and Danha with a trick. Gur,
the dyer, said that the peddlers were honest. Your mother. Well, she
went mad - when Danha and you disappeared. It was just a quarrel - but
Taucon goaded her on, and she was a madwoman! She had Gur tied up and she
whipped him - for days - to make him say that the peddlers were liars. Then
Heyos came through and told us it was not a lie - that all the bronze makers
had seen the God's face. Gur wanted to be headman - he said your mother
didn't need to fight him, or go into exile, because honor didn't require a
woman to fight when another was chosen head. But your mother chose to
fight. I don't think Gur wanted to kill her. Is it true, Tektu? Did
the peddlers steal you with a trick? You went - and you didn't say 'Stay
in safety' to me - I didn't know where you had gone."
"But why did you leave the village? Why did so many leave the village?"
"Friend, your mother first chose exile - and many went with her. We had
been on her side, and had done nothing to stop her when she tortured Gur,
and the others. We didn't think we could stay, when Gur became headman.
The shepherds from the countryside, they didn't know what your mother had
done; they followed your house - as their fathers had done. Then she
decided to fight, and was killed. We could have begged Gur to let us back,
but we didn't. We followed Taucon. It was Taucon who defied the High
King's messenger. But we all tried to kill him. And now the High King
will punish us all."
Erdiosh gave a sudden backward jerk, yanking on the cord, and fell down.
Tektu had to wrestle him on to his back, and then he couldn't see in the
starlight to untie the noose. He had to cut it with his dagger. There
was a lot of blood. Erdiosh said: "A sealed messenger! The High King's
sealed messenger!" Tektu had to drag the frantic, screaming boy to the
camp.
Kahela and Aru were tending the wounded by the firelight. They were
pulling an arrow from the thigh of a man Tektu knew; a shepherd. He used to
come to midsummer fires every year, looking for the wife he never found.
There were about a score of wounded lying or sitting around the fire. Hema
was being prepared, and mutton - the Great Sacrifice ram - was roasting.
"Hek-Danniadae is dead," the Prince said. "A battle-axe. Vaishga had an
arrow through her knee. Kahela says she will never walk on it, even if she
lives. Most of the arrow wounds are not too bad - long shooting, and they
had their shields."
Aru held the shepherd's leg until the bleeding stopped, and Tektu told him
that the Queen seemed safe, and told him what he had learned from Erdiosh.
He said "This is Erdiosh from my village. He may know more, if you wish to
have him tortured. But the Queen must know of these things; Heyos must
have told her. I think you do not need to torture him to learn what you
already know."
Aru said: "Untie the boy's hands, Tektu of the house of Nohas. Unwrap his
head. Put his cloak on him."
When Erdiosh had been dressed, the Prince spoke: "Erdiosh of the weavers, I
am Aru son of Ishan, Queen. I speak for the High King. Speak good wishes
and praise of the High King, now, or be his enemy."
Erdiosh said nothing. Tektu jabbed him in the bottom with his dagger, and
said: "Say: Health to the High King."
"Health to the High King."
Jab. "Say: Good wishes for his safety."
"Good wishes for his safety, and I, I praise his rule. He is powerful.
And wise."
The Prince said: "Enough, Tektu. Health and safety, Erdiosh of the
weavers. Go in safety. Or stay in safety, and be welcome. Tektu, give
him your belt, and that knife. Get another copper one from the spoils."
Tektu undid his belt, and handed it to Erdiosh. Erdiosh looked at the
loincloth in his friend's hand, at the spiral line around his penis. Tektu
embraced him. "It has hungered for your tongue, Erdiosh son of Ra'udhvosh.
And your shit-eye. Tomorrow, we will find a needle. A joke - you'll
be tattooed on Little Penises day."
Kahela said: "No tattoo tomorrow, it is still the Great Sacrifice."
"But ..."
"Did you see the moon, son of Nohas? I did not. And we stood looking
into the west at sunset."
"No tattoo tomorrow then, Erdiosh," Tektu said. "Once you have it, you can
have me in your bottom. Or your mouth."
"I ..." Erdiosh stopped.
"And my penis will know no shit-eye but yours, son of Ra'udhvosh weaver.
Was that what you wanted to ask me?"
"Then I am not to be punished? For attacking the High King's messenger?"
"I speak for the High King," Prince Aru said. "I promise a spear in the
gut to the Taucon - even though he is a priest. And he shall have a weapon
in his hand. For the son of Ra'udhvosh, if you will serve me, and Tektu my
arrow master, with that dagger, then you shall eat when I eat, and share
rewards and dangers. If not, then fare well on your journey, with our
wishes for your health and safety."
Erdiosh bowed low, nose touching the ground. But he stood up to speak: "I
will follow you, and Tektu arrow master. Tektu guards the doorposts of
Nohas - the doorposts where my father and grandfather had roast meat and
sweet honey."
Tektu was not the Prince's arrow master. When the sun had risen that
morning, Tektu had been a captive; not trusted with his own weapons. When
it had set, Erdiosh had been the Prince's enemy, across the battlefield.
Tektu still did not know what the Queen planned to do - if she would fight
for the Kohiyossa. If the Queen had asked for his service, he would have
refused. It made no sense to promise service to the Prince. The Prince
was nothing - just an archer of the Queen. Tektu's bright copper dagger,
Erdiosh's now, caught the firelight as Erdiosh held it up and swore his
loyalty. The Prince was unarmed, and alone. His young friend's voice,
slowly speaking the words of the oath - invoking the Lord of Oaths - hung in
the dark night like a mist over a winter meadow. The Oath-Lord's bond,
which the Sky-Father Himself could neither break nor bend, now bound the
Prince and the young weaver. Tektu said, "Prince, my loyal service."
Kahela gasped. If Aru noticed that anything unusual had happened, he gave
no sign.
After a bit, the new arrow master said: "Let us go to the captives - men of
my village. They are tortured; perhaps bravely keeping silent what we
already know."
"No one has been tortured yet. I hope they are frightened. I want them
to speak good wishes and praise of the High King."
Kahela said: "Prince, before you promise everyone else that they will eat
when you eat, give a thought to when that will be. The rams are scattered.
We don't have enough food."
Tektu said: "Erdiosh, where are the women? The children? When those who
followed the house of Nohas left their homes, they cannot have left their
wives and children - but there are no women among the captives. I saw no
children in the battle."
"Many women did fight, Tektu, and the older children. The young ones - they
did not keep up when we went after the King's messenger. They are to the
west, not far. I suppose some of the women are with them."
Kahela said: "Health and happiness, Erdiosh daggerboy, son of Ra'udhvosh.
A daggerboy must speak honor to the arrow master, when you speak to him; you
will get a whipping if you don't. Don't talk to the Prince at all, and
especially not to the Queen - you are only a dagger boy. If they talk to
you - bow to the ground. Did you have much food with you? Wagons of
barley? - or stock to slaughter?"
"My service, arrow master. Be well, Lady."
Tektu said: "She is Kahela, daughter of Kratik. Of the village of Sugga."
"The Law-Singer! May the Lady Sugga make the Law prevail! Reverence,
Kahela of the Law. We have no food. We are hungry. There is no food
with the children."
Tektu wanted to go to the captives, and not leave them expecting torture any
longer. Erdiosh, daggerboy, strode rudely ahead of his Prince and his arrow
master. When he arrived among the bound and blindfold captives, he
shouted. "I am Erdiosh, son of Ra'udhvosh weaver. Friends, great news.
Tektu - Tektu son of Nohas! - has returned to us. He is now a man,
returning with honor, to guard the doorposts of his house. He will agree to
be our headman. But the house of Nohas is loyal to the High King. Shall
we be loyal to the doorposts of Nohas, and serve the High King? And
renounce Taucon, who defied the sealed messenger? Shall we have Tektu for
headman?"
"The headship is with the house of Nohas - the house of Tektu," a shepherd
said. "But we are captives. We will be punished for attacking the High
King's messenger."
A weaver said: "Surely we will be killed."
"We will all be gelded!"
"We are slaves already!"
Erdiosh said: "Tektu is arrow master to these warriors. That may save us.
Speak now - Tektu is headman, the son of Nohas!"
"Tektu, son of Nohas, headman!"
"Speak now - Health and safety to the High King. Death to Taucon, who
defied the messenger!"
All the captives shouted through the loincloths wrapped around their heads.
The Prince said: "Unbind their ...." but Erdiosh, bare-penis daggerboy,
silenced his new Prince with a wave of his hand. "The quarrel is over,"
he shouted. "Gur had the right of it. The peddlers told the truth.
Tektu was not stolen for a slave, nor Danha. The peddlers' story of the
Young God was true. Let he who says other, speak!"
No one spoke.
Erdiosh shouted: "We follow Tektu into battle, if he leads us. Arrow-luck
to our headman, Tektu son of Nohas!"
"Tektu of Nohas!"
Erdiosh bowed to Tektu and Aru. "I hope I have served." Then he glanced
at Kahela. "I forgot your instruction, Kahela of the Law." He bowed to
Aru. "Honor, Prince, and pleasure in the years to come." Then he grinned
at Kahela. Bowing to Tektu, he said: "Honor, arrow master, and pleasure in
the nights to come." He asked Kahela: "Was that a good address of
honor?"
But when they finally lay down to sleep, just before dawn, Tektu picked up a
stick, a bit of firewood. Tektu had let other boys suckle him. Erdiosh
had always hoped he was the favorite, but Tektu had never said. Until
tonight. "No shit-eye but yours, son of Ra'udhvosh." Since he had heard
those words, it had been like living in a dream. As if Strong Lust had
taken him by the hand. And now this. Erdiosh, proudly, leapt into
position, and Tektu, beating very fast, turned his bottom dark under the
cold starry sky. In his eyes, Erdiosh saw himself in the village. He was
wearing a spotless white tunic, embroidered with cunts and penises, and his
long hair was bound up with the the beaded white hair ties used by married
woman. He saw himself before the village oven, with everyone there to
watch him be stripped and shamed. But when he lifted his tunic, he felt no
shame, but gloating pride in his girdle of golden beads. As he bent naked
for his whipping, he heard himself saying "beat me hard, husband," the way
proud women do, to defy the shame. Tektu shook him by the shoulder - and
the dream was over.
"What did you say?" Tektu asked.
"Um. I. um. Never mind."
Tektu said: "That beating was for 'house of Nohas,' 'son of Nohas'. I have
told you not to say them."
Erdiosh said: "The doorposts of the house of Girtu. I will tell everyone,
Tektu son of Girtu. And now your mother is dead too."
Tektu, new-made arrow master, new-made headman, and, although he did not
know it yet, the man who held the kingdom in the palm of his hand, curled up
in his lover's arms and sobbed.
* * * * * * * * * * *
[ the end of the first half of the second story, called The Brothers of the
Ox-Yoke, of the Midsummer fires trilogy. ]
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