B. Alexander Howerton (8 page)

My mind cannot comprehend the sheer magnitude of the
slaughter.  The Iceni break upon us like demons from hell.  Their fury is
beyond anything I could have ever imagined.  I have no way to comprehend what
is happening.  All I see is fragments.  Burning buildings.  Hacked and bleeding
bodies.  The bloodthirsty rage in the face of an Iceni warrior as he bares down
on me.  Severed arms and legs, lying in the streets as if casually discarded. 
Blood everywhere, red, red blood.  The whole world is red.

Oddly, I am not killed.  I am captured, and lashed to a
chariot outside the temple of Claudius.  I am lying on my back, gazing up at
the temple.  It is in ruins, and burning.  Every structure in the town is
burning, or is being torn down.  In their rage, the Iceni are razing the whole
village.

Then I must turn and vomit over the side of the chariot.  I
see a most terrible sight.  The women of the town have been hung from trees,
and the savage warriors are impaling them with their spears, up through their
genital areas and out of their mouths.  The screams tear at my soul.  I pray to
holy Melkart that such a fate has not been visited upon Melinca.  Then all is
black, and I know nothing more.

A throbbing in my head and a ringing in my ears brings me to
consciousness again.  I have no idea how much time has passed, but it is now
dark.  The sounds of feasting and revelry fill the air.  I search for the
source of the celebration, and I see a great bonfire, surrounded by what must
be a large band of my captors.  Then, in the foreground, I notice some straight
vertical lines.  I bring them into focus, and discover I am entrapped in a
cage, made of stout branches.  I reach out and grab a branch, giving it a shake
to test its sturdiness.  It is quite firm.

“You live!”

I quickly turn over to see who has spoken behind me, but I
already recognize the voice.  My heart pounds with joy.  It is Melinca!  I
reach out and embrace her, which she welcomingly returns.

“My dear girl, you are safe.  Are you hurt at all?”

“No, only a few bruises.  And you?  I thought sure you would
pass away any moment, you were out so long.”

“Where are we?” I ask, looking around.

“This is the Iceni camp.  They are celebrating their
victory.”

“I don’t see any other cages. Are there any other
survivors?”

Melinca solemnly shakes her head.

The gravity of the situation sinks upon me.  “Then… why have
we been allowed to live?”

“I dread to even ponder it,” she says softly, burying her
face in my shoulder.

I hold her close as I turn to observe the revelers.  I can
see concentric circles of the Iceni surrounding a huge bonfire.  There is a
smaller fire in front of it, over which, suspended from a tripod of long iron
rods, hangs a large, boiling cauldron.  Periodically a server approaches the
cauldron and uses a large ladle to scoop its contents into iron serving
pitchers, then distributes it into the bowls which the seated members of the
circle hold aloft.  To the side are huge kegs of wine, from which the
celebrants are liberally drinking.  A shock overcomes me as I recognize the kegs. 
They are from my shop! 

The celebration carries on for some time.  The Iceni seem to
pay no heed to us.  I comfort Melinca as much as I am able.  We sit quietly
holding one another, watching the proceedings with dread and fascination. 
Eventually I notice a tightening in my stomach.  I realize I am quite
famished.  I wonder if we will ever be fed.

Finally, a hush slowly descends upon the crowd, and they
slowly organize themselves into three seated concentric circles, apparently
ordered by rank, the highest in the center.   From the left, where a hole has
been left in the circles, a procession enters the enclosure.  A young girl
enters, dressed in an elaborate mutli-colored gown.  She holds aloft an object
that I cannot quite make out.  Following her is a tall, graceful woman, wrapped
in a large leather cloak, held together at the neck by a brooch.  Her wild
tawny hair shoots out in all directions, eventually to fall in long cascades to
her waist.  She carries herself with regal bearing, and the slowly crescendoing
chants of “Bou-di-cca!  Bou-di-cca!  Bou-di-cca!” leaves no doubt in my mind
whom I am beholding.  She is followed by three white-haired old men in white
robes, with beards reaching to their belted waists, carrying various
accoutrements for indecipherable purposes.  These must be the druids, of which
I have heard tell, and whose stronghold Suetonius had gone to destroy in the
north.

They arrange themselves in front of the cauldron.  The girl
sets her object on the ground, and the queen sits cross-legged facing it, the
fire to her back.  She begins to sway and chant, and the old men mimic her
chant, throwing bit of material into the cauldron as they dance around it.

I look at Melinca to see fear etched on her face.  She
notices me watching her, and begins to explain.  “Oh, Thalastrel, I am so sorry
for your sake.  You who are a foreigner to our land and customs, you do not
know the gravity of that which you are witnessing.”  She holds me tighter and
continues.  “Not only are they celebrating their victory over the Romans, but
this is the feast of Beltane.  They mean to sacrifice us!”

Suddenly our cage shakes.  I look up to notice a warrior
working at the side of it, apparently unlashing it.  He pulls one side away
from the others, reaches in, grabs my arm, and pulls me roughly to my feet. 
Another warrior extracts Melinca from the cage.  We are roughly pushed through
the circle and forced to crouch in front of the queen.  I am now confronted
with the object which I could not perceive clearly before.  It is a stone,
oddly shaped but roughly oblong.  It rests in a stand of ornately wrought
gold.  The stand consists of three women kneeling and leaning forward.  Their
arms reach out to the sides and their hands interlock with one another, forming
a receptacle to hold the stone.  It catches the firelight and sends wild rays
of color all around the gathered circles of Iceni, lighting their eagerly
onlooking faces with eerie glows.

I stare into the demonically glowing face of Queen
Boudicca.  She is examining us and nodding appreciatively, a wicked smile
curling her lips.  She barks something to the warriors behind us, and we are
hauled to our feet.  Our clothes are cut from our bodies with daggers and
stripped away, and we stand naked and unprotected before the queen.  She
reaches with both hands and fondles our genitals, nodding appreciatively.  I am
frozen with fear and confusion, but I have the presence of mind to reach over
and grasp Melinca’s hand in a desperate show of support.  Boudicca nods to the
white-haired men behind her, who cease their chanting dance around the cauldron
and approach us.  They carry in their hands branches of the plant I recognize
as mistletoe.  They resume their chanting dance around us, slapping our
genitals with the leaves at each pass.  The pointed pricks of the mistletoe
leaves sting at every strike.  I wince, and so does Melinca, but we remain
standing.

Eventually the old druids finish their dance.  They seize
Melinca and pull her to her back on the ground.  The young maiden who carried
in the stone approaches me and turns me gently with imploring, soothing phrases
toward Melinca.  She caresses me about the face and shoulders, apparently
trying to put me at ease.  Her ministrations do have somewhat of a calming
effect on me, which quickly reverts to anxiety as I realize she is working her
way down my body.  She achieves a kneeling position before me and begins to
manipulate my manhood with her hands and mouth.  The chanting of the gathered
circles sets a rather stimulating rhythm to the ceremony.  Despite my
paralyzing fear, I cannot help but become aroused.  At the same time, I witness
one of the three elder priests massaging the area between Melinca’s legs.  I
steal a glance over to Queen Boudicca and see her nodding in approval as she
caresses the strange stone.

Before long the maiden has brought me to a state of great
arousal.  She backs away, and two warriors behind me thrust me down upon poor
Melinca.  They obviously intend for me to engage in coitus with the frightened
young girl.  I try to get up, but I feel the pricks of spears in my back,
preventing me from rising.

“I’m sorry, my dear, I never intended this, and I am deeply
ashamed and aggrieved that it has come to this.”

“Do not fret, Thalastrel,” the girl says with an odd calm. 
“We must face our fortune with bravery and strength.  Do what you must.  I only
wish we could have done this in more joyous circumstances.”  With that, she
begins to bring all her feminine wiles to play upon me, wrapping her legs
around my waist and pulling me closer to her.  Wild cheers of excitement arise
from the surrounding crowd.

A spark of bright color shoots across her face, reflected
from the queen’s bizarre stone.  All at once the rhythm of the chant, the heat
of the fire, the intense concentration upon us, Melinca’s ministrations,
awakens a deep passion within me.  I am unable to contain myself.  I plunge
myself deep into her and begin thrusting in time to the chanting.  Melinca tips
her head back, closing her eyes and opening her beautiful mouth in an O of
deeply felt sensation.  Her head bobs back and forth with every thrust, her
long, dark, wondrous hair splayed out in a radius about her head.

It does not last long.  I feel my climax approaching, and
push myself deep within her.  It is as if the gathered Iceni feel my release
with me, and they let out a long, satisfying moan that matches mine exactly.  I
fall to Melinca’s breast, spent and satisfied.

We are not allowed even a moment’s rest.  Two warriors pull
me roughly to my feet, even as the druids raise Melinca.  Our hands are bound
by rough twine behind us as we face Queen Boudicca.  She begins a new chant
with a different rhythm, which the crows swiftly picks up.  I cannot make out
any of it, but I keep hearing “Belenus” and “Andraste.”  The priests are
sprinkling some herbs or some such stuff over us, chanting a low counter-rhythm
to the queen’s.  I hear Melinca softly saying, “Oh, no, no, no!”  I turn to
her.  She frantically looks into my eyes.  “That which we just performed for
them was the ritual mating of Belenus, the fire god, and Andraste, the goddess
of war.  They are hoping that our union will generate the required power for
them to overcome the Romans.  Now they must sacrifice us so that our energy
will enter them, and they will become invincible.”

Just them we are roughly seized and pushed around to the
other side of the great bonfire.  Standing there I see a horrific vision which
had been blocked from my sight until now by the huge fire.  It is a great
effigy of a man, thrice the size of a real man, made entirely of wicker.  A
ladder is placed against the spot where his genitals would be.  We are forced
to climb the ladder onto a platform in the wicker man’s “stomach.”  The door
through which we entered is shut and lashed, and the ladder is removed.  Panic
and fear seizes me.  What can they be planning.  Surely not….  But then I see….
Yes, they will….  The three old druids grab burning branches from the fire and
approach the wicker man.  I scream at the top of my lungs, “Nooooooo!”  I
cannot be heard above the din of the mounting chant.  The priests set the
torches to the wicker man, one to each foot and one to a thick rope hanging
between his legs.  Fire begins to consume the wicker man.  I grab at the woven
strands and shake furiously, but we are trapped.  Smoke billows about us, then
I can begin to feel the heat of the flames. 

Melinca sits in resignation in the middle of the platform. 
I turn to her in despair.  She holds out her arms and softly whispers, “Come,
my love.  We will face this together.”  I crouch next to her and gather her in
a desperate embrace.  The smoke is overwhelming, and it is becoming hard to
breathe.  The heat is rising, and approaching a painful threshold.  Melinca
whispers softly, “Be brave, my love.  Perhaps someday, if your gods and mine
permit it, we will be allowed to find one another again in happier
circumstances.”  She kisses me softly, then is overcome by the smoke, and loses
consciousness.

I hold her tightly.  “My love, my love, why do we wait until
it is too late to show our love?  Oh, curse the gods!  Melkart! What have I
done to deserve this?  What has she done?  She is innocent.  Why do you torment
us so?”  The flames begin to reach around the platform and lick at the wicker
surrounding us.  The platform has become unbearably hot.  I scream in pain and
rage, then the smoke overwhelms me as well.  I know no more.

“I love the lake,” Julia said, breathing deeply through her
nostrils and enjoying the fresh scent of the air over Lake Michigan.  “I keep
forgetting how beautiful it is.  We have to come out here more often.”

Alan, privately reveling in her use of “we”, squeezed her
hand tighter.  “Yeah, I love it, too.”

They were strolling along the boardwalk that ran along the
edge of the boat channel in Grand Haven.  They could see, about a half mile
ahead of them, shimmering in the reflected sunlight of the lake, the end of the
pier toward which the boardwalk led.  Halfway along the pier, the tall red
lighthouse stood as a silent sentinel, watching over the fishers and strollers
dotting the pier.  At the very end stood the foghorn house, jutting
triumphantly toward the open waves.  To the left stretched a wide, white, sandy
beach.  No swimmers yet braved the still icy waters of Lake Michigan on this
sunny but cool April Saturday afternoon, but a few intrepid kite flyers were
wrestling the wind, their colorful sails gracefully dancing in the air.

“I’m glad you were interested in coming out here today,”
Alan said.  “The blues show later is going to be a blast!”

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it,” Julia responded.  “I love
the blues.  And chili cookoffs are always fun.  I’ve been wanting to come out
and check out this Chilly Blues thing for a couple of years, but I never really
found anybody who wanted to do it before.  Some of that chili back at Snug
Harbor was really good.  Which one was your favorite?”

“I liked the one where the women had coconut shells for
halter tops.”

Julia laughed and lightly slapped Alan’s chest.  “That was
my favorite, too. But I could never wear those things in public.”

“Well, you’d look great if you did.”

Julia smiled at him, communicating a silent ‘thank you.’ 
“So, we’re meeting Steve later at the Tip-A-Few tavern?”

“Yeah, and you invited Carol, right?”

“Yeah, and Jim and Jane too.  This is going to be so much
fun.  I can’t wait to kick up our heels later in the Blues tent.”

“Yeah, that’ll be fun.  I like hanging out with you.  Sorry
we couldn’t get together any sooner, after our first date.  That installation
job in Portland was a lot bigger than any of us expected.”

“That’s all right.  We’re together now, aren’t we?”

They strolled out along the pier, admiring the myriad
pleasure craft that drifted leisurely by in the boat channel to their right,
going slowly enough not to create a wake.  They eventually reached the end, out
in front of the foghorn house, and sat on the small concrete ledge by the edge,
holding hands, looking out into the wide expanse of water.  The sun was dipping
slowly into the west, casting the world in a golden glow.  A long trail of
shimmering, shifting light seemed to stretch out from Alan and Julia’s feet
across the water to the horizon.

“It’s so beautiful,” Julia remarked softly, gazing into the
distance.

“Yes, you’re right.”  Alan was gazing intently at Julia,
drinking in her attractive profile.  Her long, raven hair was whipping around
her head, blown by the wind.  My God, mused Alan, she’s absolutely gorgeous.

Still gazing toward the horizon, Julia said, “Alan, I really
like you.”  She turned to look into his eyes.  “I really like spending time
with you.  I feel as if I’ve already known you, perhaps in another life or
something.  We’re so compatible.”

A whole swarm of butterflies took flight in Alan stomach. 
“I feel the same way.  I can’t stop thinking about you.  I love our long talks
on the phone.  I feel really close to you already.”

Julia beamed.  “Me too.”

They sat still, exploring each other’s faces with their eyes
for a few seconds.  Then, with the inevitability of two magnets attracting each
other, they embraced in a deep, passionate kiss.

They eventually detached, and gazed at each other with soft
smiles.  Finally, Alan said, very softly, “I love you.”

Julia blushed and turned her head slightly away, smiling.  Then
she looked back at Alan, intently, seriously.  “I love you.”

They hugged closely, each overwhelmed with joy.  They then
kissed again, longer and more passionately.  The sun sank a little lower, and
the lake and the sky were limned with gold.

After what seemed an eternity, Julia pulled away slightly. 
“We ought to get going.  It’s,” she glanced at her watch, “Almost five.  We
have to meet those guys at Tip-A-Few in half an hour.”

Alan gazed wistfully out toward the sinking sun.  “Yeah, I
guess we can’t stay here forever, no matter how much I’d like to.”

Julia smiled broadly at him.  “That’s the best compliment
I’ve received in a long time.” She stood up and held out her hands to him. 
“Come on.  Let’s get going.”

Alan took her hands and jumped up swiftly.  “Maybe I don’t
want to go,” he said suddenly as he reached one arm down and behind her knees. 
“Maybe I want to stay here and frolic in the water forever!”  He suddenly
scooped Julia up, cradling her in his arms, and spun around with the mock
intention of throwing her in the water.

Julia threw her arms around his neck and clung tight. 
“Alan! Don’t!”  She let out a high-pitched scream, which transformed to
laughter as Alan kept spinning and she realized the nature of his joke.  “Come
on! Put me down! It’s not funny,” she said through her laughter.

Alan stopped spinning and grinned mischievously at her.  He
pecked her quickly on the lips, then set her down.  “OK.  You win.  But next
time you’re going in!”

“You’ll be coming with me!”

They laughed as they held hands and walked back toward the
shore.

They both thoroughly enjoyed the evening.  They enjoyed a
few pitchers of Leinenkugel Red with their friends at the Tip-A-Few, then went
over to the enormous tent, as long as two football fields, erected in a parking
lot, which housed the blues stage.  They danced until the last band began
packing up their instruments.  Alan had switched to water when they had come
into the tent, with the intention of being in good shape to drive at the end of
the evening.  She napped, a slight smile on her face, as Alan took the freeway
back to Grand Rapids.

“Julia, wake up. We’re back at your place.”

Julia sat up, flipping the lever that raised the seat back
to an upright position.  She looked around, slightly groggy.  “So soon?  Didn’t
we just leave Grand Haven?”

“You’ve been out for over half an hour.”

She glanced at him incredulously.

“I kid you not.”

She shrugged, then started gathering up her purse.

“I’ll walk you to the door.” Alan said, opening his car
door.

“OK.” She flashed a warm smile at him.

They walked up to the door of the apartment house, hand in
hand.  They stopped as Julia fumbled in her purse for her keys.  Finding them
and pulling them out, she glanced up at Alan.  “I had a really wonderful time.”

“Me too.”

A moment of awkward silence followed as they gazed at each
other.  Then, once again, they found themselves kissing passionately.  After
another blissful eternity, Julia disengaged and stared deeply into Alan’s
eyes.  Very softly, she asked, “Would you like to come up?”

Alan’s broad, warm smile was all the answer Julia needed. 
She unlocked the door, and they both entered the foyer.  The spring-hinged door
closed gently behind them.