(by Juan DeJesus, copyright 2000, all rights reserved)

In the sack slung over his shoulder, Thailog had a package of flour, two pounds of lamb jerky remaining from the five he began with, dates and dried apricots, a small pan for cooking, the means of making a fire, and, being a very large man, a very large blanket. These provisions, supplemented by whatever he could find along the way, were meant to sustain him, during his walking tour of the wilderness that formed the boundary between his nation and its neighbor. It was a somewhat dangerous place to wander, due to nearly continuous warfare, that seemed to be the preoccupation of both peoples, probably because they were so much alike.

Adopting a professional attitude, he did not hate them, and certainly was not afraid. Not he, a soldier, skilled in the military arts, and not any warrior either, but a preeminent practitioner of his craft, perhaps the best of his generation on either side. But this was no scouting expedition, he was on leave from the army and desired merely to be away from crowds, formations, orders and marches-to enjoy the landscape, the plants and animals-to have some peace, for just a little while. Then, refreshed, he would be glad to return to his regiment and resume the slaughter at which he was so proficient.

Today, he had hiked a long way through the foothills, pausing only for lunch. He had not seen another person, except, about an hour ago, he spied a flock of sheep on an adjacent hillside. Sheep implied a shepherd. That he had not noticed him, Thailog reasoned, could be due to his not having looked closely and the likelihood that, from the place where he had been standing, a shepherd boy would not be all that obvious. This thought led to one about the proclivities of shepherd boys, who honored their obligation to provide the hospitality due to travelers. He determined that a closer examination of the situation was warranted.

In another hour, he had found the hill. A half hour more and he reached the top. From that height, he saw patches of white moving among the trees on the far side of the canyon below. He closed the distance rapidly, until he could hear the bleating of the animals. Then he slowed his pace, so as not to be out of breath when he caught up.

Indeed, there was a boy among the sheep, one so handsome that it stirred his heart, as well as his body. It was because he was moved in this former way, that he approached with dignity, that he might not be accused of disrespect for what had to be a work of the Gods. This was the correct manner to come into the youth's presence, as demonstrated by the absence of alarm at the sudden appearance of a stranger and by the little smile that lingered about the lad's beautifully shaped lips.

In this way they made acquaintance. "Peace," Thailog said in greeting.

"Peace," the youngster, now broadly grinning, replied, not raising his fingers in the sign of a "V," that coming much later in time than this story. "What brings you here?" the wondrous shepherd boy continued, the grin resolving itself into a laugh.

"Chance alone is responsible for the presence of this sojourner," the soldier glibly lied, the untruth revealed by a certain luster in his eyes.

"Nothing is due purely to luck," the lad asserted, "however it may appear. We are the agents of our destinies."

While this discussion continued for a spell, Thailog gradually approached the lad who so delighted him, but, just before the prize was within his reach, the youth announced, "The fall of darkness is upon you. You must remain here, with me, tonight. There is a cave at the end of the canyon, wherein I take my repose."

Thailog realized, that what he was intending to have by plunder, was now being offered to him. Force, then, was not only unnecessary, but would be dishonorable, as only an attack upon someone who has given you your heart's desire can be. "But first I must settle the sheep, and then bathe in the brook, and prepare some food for us to eat," the lad amended.

Thailog chose a tree to sit under, settled his back against the trunk, and watched the shepherd attend to his responsibilities. Those duties accomplished, the lad came over to where Thailog was resting, and asked him if he also wanted to wash himself in the stream. "Water is not as good for men as it is for youths," Thailog claimed, because he was afraid that the sight of his desire; which he could conceal beneath his garments, in various ways that he changed from time to time, so as not to appear awkward and, thus, be as much a giveaway as a bonfire on a hilltop; would, if revealed, bring ruin to his plans.

"It would be a kindness, if you would come and sit on the bank, that I might enjoy your company," the youth pleaded. Thailog carefully rose from the ground, feigning slight reluctance or grudging agreeableness, good manners requiring him not to refuse so small a request from his host. He did not want to seem eager.

The bathing place was a shallow pool, where the water was backed up by a boulder. Thailog was very nearly mesmerized as the boy kicked off his sandals and disrobed, every limb was so much like perfection. His eyes moved, without volition, from one part to another. The man could not hope to exert control. He stared at the shadows created by the depressions that divided the two sides of the chest and the planes of the back, and that most precious darker shadow between the twin mounds of love. The highlights on firm shoulder, forearms, breasts and thighs were captivating. That this was a child of the enemy, was irrelevant to him.

He knew that he could not turn his gaze away, and so, must speak, for otherwise, his staring could not be justified. He asked the lad his name and was told that it was Pavip. "What should I call you?" Pavip asked, laughing brightly.

"Leinad," Thailog said, partly because he thought that his true name might be known among the enemy, due to his prowess, and partly because it is customary for a man to lie to his love interests, be they women or boys.

As Pavip knelt in the pool, splashing water over his dusty body, Thailog asked him why a youngster, who seemed to be well educated, given his speech and therefore from a wealthy family, would be alone in a barren place, tending sheep. Pavip explained that his father had sent him out to be responsible for a portion of the family flock in order to make a man of him. He giggled then, and shook the water from his hair.

Pavip rubbed his body, transforming the dust and water into mud, which he rinsed away, with more exuberant splashing. Thailog, seeing that Pavip was unable to clean his back and did not even make an attempt, could not resist offering his assistance. "How good of you!" Pavip exclaimed. So Thailog removed his own sandals and wadded in.

As he washed the boy with one hand, he placed the other on the youth's shoulder to steady himself. "How strong you are, Leinad," Pavip said, swiveling his head to look up at the warrior. But Thailog, having momentarily forgotten that his name was Leinad, and being a little confused thereby, asked Pavip to repeat what he had said.

"Did you not hear me?" the boy asked, with mock incredulity.

"My mind was elsewhere," Thailog admitted.

"What were you thinking of?" Pavip said, pursuing the matter.

"Nothing," Thailog insisted.

"I bet I know what you were thinking about," the boy posited. Thailog, feeling caught in a trap, remained silent. "The good supper I'm going to make for you," the innocently smiling Pavip, offered in response to the unspoken, "What?" that was the line of dialogue passed over by Thailog.

Yes, you're going to make a good meal for me, Thailog thought to himself, as they walked back to where the sheep were gathered, and passing them, continued to the cave that the youth used for his abode. When Thailog's eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the cave, he saw, first, that there was a bed, large enough for two, made out of logs laid upon the ground. The middle of the rectangle, filled with dried leaves, he assumed, was covered with a blanket and topped by sheep hides. There were storage jars and crates against the walls; cheese, sausages, bunches of herbs and two wine skins hung from pegs. Two pottery oil lamps, iron cooking utensils, wooden bowls, and a few knives and spoons completed the furnishings.

Thailog asked Pavip why the father supplied all these goods, if he meant for the son to live rough. The explanation was that his sire provided only the most basic rations, but whichever of his brothers was sent to deliver them and to return with a report on the condition of the flock, would, with the connivance of the others, steal provisions from the family stores. Frequently, one of them would sneak away for an unauthorized visit, bringing more supplies.

"My father says they spoil me. Even though I am sixteen, I am still the baby," Pavip admitted. "Perhaps one will still come. They always arrive late in the day, but before nightfall." Thailog's heart sank. "But it's unlikely, because Shammah left early this morning and the sun is already setting."

There was plenty of food. No sooner was Thailog done with one course, than another was presented. Pavip had finished long before, saying that he was too excited by having his very own guest to eat much. Thailog might have stopped some time before as well, but he was waiting for it to become completely dark outside, so that there would be no possibility of an interruption. The warrior offered to share his dried fruit to complete the meal. Pavip took a date from Thailog's fingers and popped it into his mouth.

Pavip lit the little hand lamps, igniting a twig from the fire at the mouth of the cave to do it. Then he took one of the lights and went outside to clean the dishes in sand. When he returned he sat down next to Thailog, on the ground near the dying fire. "About a week ago, I had a dream," Pavip said. "I was visited by an important man and then went to live in a palace. What do you think it means?"

"I don't know," Thailog answered. But let's see if we can make some more dreams." And with that, they blew out the lights and went to bed.

Pavip lay on his left side. Thailog raised himself and leaned over the boy. "Thank you for the supper," the man whispered into Pavip's ear.

The youth shifted onto his back and moistly breathed, "You're welcome," into the soldier's face.

Thailog stroked Pavip's side. "Where do you keep the olive oil?" he breathed back. Laughing, Pavip said that rendered mutton fat was better and that it was in a small earthenware pot at the head of the bed.

Thailog stripped himself and then the boy. He was amazed at how much Pavip knew about love making. "I have seven older brothers," Pavip explained. "They've taught me everything." Thailog even satisfied the lad, something he did not often bother to do, but he satisfied himself twice. Then he could not keep sleep at bay any longer, but felt himself drifting away, and thinking of the boy's dream.

Should he take Pavip away with him? Tell people the lad was his slave. Keep him at his mother's house, while on campaign. In a few years, retire. The post of Captain of the King's guard. Live in the palace. His due for past service. The reward he had earned. Greatest warrior. Make dreams come true. Tell him in the morning. The palace. Pavip. Smooth skin. Dreams. Captain of the guard … beautiful boy … palace …

*****

When the great crushing blow fell, orders for defense were immediately sent, but not received, owing to severance of the lines of communication. Three more strokes followed, at intervals of three seconds. The bones of the structure were splintered, cords of sinew snapped when cut, air escaped from a broken windpipe, and blood was uselessly pumped out by the heart. The separated head rolled crazily to the side.

He could see a faint light at the mouth of the cave. A blurred form was in front of him, he could not focus his eyes, neither could he move them left or right. Only what was in front of him was within his view.

But then the boy moved further away where Thailog could watch him dress. He saw Pavip tie a leather belt around his waist, from which hung a leather pouch. Then the youth took Thailog's sack and dumped its contents on the dirt floor. Such a waste, he thought.

Even Thailog was surprised by this sensation of mere annoyance, instead of a fierce anger, directed at the boy who had killed him. However, he felt oddly detached. These events did not really matter to him, nor did those of the past. He was a little curious about what would follow, and that was all.

He saw Pavip open the leather pouch and remove a smooth stone that might have come from the pool where he had bathed on the previous evening. Then, as the youth approached, he went out of focus again. Thailog felt the impact, not as pain, but as a pressure, when Pavip smashed the rock into his forehead just above the eyes. He sensed that the skin there had been split, not that it concerned him much.

He was not pleased, however, when he was picked up by the hair and dropped into the sack. It was still night in there. Thailog felt the bag being hoisted and, a short while later, some light filtered through the warp and weave of the coarse fabric. Then he began bouncing up and down and the bag was occasionally bumped from the side, which set the sack to twisting. They boy must be jogging, he reasoned. Thailog's head gradually shifted, so that he was staring upward toward the top where the material was drawn together in the boy's clasp. It looked rather like a sphincter, he thought, without bitterness.

After a while, the motion of the bag had an hypnotic effect and Thailog's mind wandered to a place it had never been before, there was a serene emptiness, absent of the sub-vocalizations that he took to be thinking. So he believed that his mind was blank for a time, and he did not know for how long, but it was very quiet. It did not alarm him, he rather liked it. Even the rhythmic slap, slap, of Pavip's feet hitting the ground, and the motion of the sack, gradually receded in his consciousness. Bunp, bump, twist, twist, slap, slap, bump, bump, twist, twist, …

*****

Blinding light made him wince, though only mentally, a remembered habit. He was unable to shut his eyes. There was no actual discomfort, but he could not see much, except a shape or two. The boy was walking now and his cheek occasionally came into contact with Pavip's calf. Well, it had been there before, Thailog said to himself. The youth must have pulled him out of the bag and be carrying him by the hair; face forward, since the shapes were advancing, not receding.

These objects became more frequent, and Thailog determined that they must be persons passing in the opposite direction. He heard them speak, asking questions or making exclamations, but Pavip did not stop, maintaining a brisk pace. Then he heard his name and not in the lad's voice. The enemy knew him by sight, he suddenly realized. The boy may have known who he was from the first! The thought made him dizzy.

They encountered even more people along their way, and from the commotion behind them, Thailog deduced that there must be others following. Individuals they had passed had given up their private pursuits, and changed direction, making themselves into an unruly parade. But Pavip did not pause or turn back.

As they entered the gates of a city, a crowd parted before them. Perhaps they were shocked, at first, by the sight of the bloody head of a corpse. Thailog heard the followers being questioned and muttered explanations, the noises grew in volume. When they reached the market place, Pavip stopped. The mob gathered around him. They were all talking at once. The boy was silent, motionless.

When the clamor subsided, Thailog heard Pavip tell the most awful lies about how he had murdered their renowned foe, the champion of the opposition; although what he said in beginning was truthful.

"Tell us what happened," someone said.

"I killed him." The shepherd boy answered, with evident pride.

"How?"

"I cut off his head."

"We can see that! Is that the sword you used? Where did you get it?"

"It's his."

"Did he hand it to you and ask you to end his misery, because he was ashamed of his past behavior?" someone asked, sarcastically.

This was when the fabrications began. Thailog could not bear to listed to them. The very idea that he, the greatest warrior of his time, could be defeated in combat, by this mouse, a mere child, it was disgusting, humiliating, he refused to hear it. And the story he gave was so improbable, ridiculous, absurd. All he would have had to do was duck. Then one swipe of his sword and it would be Pavip split in two, probably the long way.

Happily, he found that he could put himself into a trance, like the one he had experienced in the sack. He did not force the thoughts away, he just let them go. He did not concentrate, he un-concentrated. The sounds were still audible, but they contained no meaning for him. Buzz, rumble, squeak, buzz, rumble, squeak, buzz, rumble, buzz, rumble, bumble, bumble, …

*****

The sounds abruptly ceased. Then a single shout broke through to him. "Make way for the King's guard!"

How trite, Thailog thought, already, in his separate state, a critic. He could tell that soldiers had surrounded them, by the clank of their armor and their manner of speaking. Then they were moving again, until they came to the door of a building. They entered and Thailog could see again, because it was fairly dark, the only light coming from slit windows high up on the walls.

The guard tried to keep the mob from following, but it appeared that they had to allow certain important citizens to enter, and this was a considerable group. They proceeded down a corridor, jabbering contentiously among themselves, and entered a large room with a high ceiling and the same small openings for sunlight. At the far end of the hall there was a dais, raised about a foot above the dirt floor, and at the back of that, a middle-aged man sat in a carved wooden chair. The soldiers left them at the edge, and moved to flank the seated figure, about ten feet away.

This time, Pavip's story, much embellished, was told by the dignitaries, who had accompanied him into the chamber. It was evident that many of them were priests, because they claimed that their God, in retaliation for attacks on his people, had delivered Thailog into their hands. That the one true God had used a simple shepherd boy as his instrument, clearly a miracle, was the proof of this assertion. They directed their words to the man in the chair, King Luas.

The angry expression on the King's face indicated to Thailog that he did not believe a word of it. Some members of the guard looked like they were biting their tongues or the insides of their mouths to keep from laughing, and Thailog knew why.

King Luas, the first king of these people, had been appointed by their priests. Previously, the local priests had been the judges of the people's squabbles. The head priest intervened in disputes between localities, among priests, or when they were unable to resolve a conflict. But the head priest had no executive authority, no standing army to enforce his orders or to counter a sudden attack from outside. An unruly group, they had been easy prey.

Thailog's people had made this method of governance untenable. They chose a king reluctantly and they resented it. The people, unused to the concept of a king, still looked to the priests for direction. Thus, King Luas could not ignore their wishes. The priests had made him and they could unmake him. The soldiers were amused that the King was forced to accept this nonsense.

At that moment, Pavip knelt before the King and said, "I have brought this for you, my King." Thailog felt the boy's hands on his ears, as his head was offered to the leader of his enemy. The audience cheered. King Luas looked like he might be sick. But, instead, he ordered one of his guard to take the head. He directed that it be put on a pike and stuck high up into the wall.

"My only wish is that I might be permitted to remain here to serve you, my Lord," Pavip continued.

At this point, the head priest came forward. He praised the boy's purity of spirit. Of course, that was why God had chosen the lad for this appointed task. Thailog could see that the King was becoming even more annoyed, but he readily agreed to Pavip's request, probably hoping to get quickly to the end of the farce. That was not to be. Leumas, the head priest, began a very long prayer, offering thanks to God for His marvelous works in general and this one in particular, then speaking at length about the good qualities of King Luas, and so on. King Luas had to interrupt and claim a headache in order to get him to stop.

Then everyone left and the room was deserted but for Thailog. Without people, it was a very empty room, indeed. There were no furnishings, except for the now vacant chair. The walls were plain, nothing adorned them. There were the few little windows, on Thailog's side and at one end, and two doors, the big one at the front, where they had come in, and a little one on the wall opposite him, that King Luas and his guard had used when they departed. Everyone else had to leave by the other exit.

Pavip had been the last to go, He had looked back, briefly glanced at Thailog, smiled in a friendly way, and nodded as though saying thank you. Well, thank you too, you little prick, Thailog thought, as though sending out a message. But Pavip seemed not to receive it.

Alone again, with nothing to look at, Thailog became quickly bored. For a while his mind swam with the day's events, it was twenty four hours since he had first spotted a flock of sheep on a hillside. Yet even these memories did not interest him anymore, so he tried the trance again. This time, after he had been under the spell for a while, he seemed to find himself projected forward, about four inches from the front of his face. He could see to the left or the right and up or down. But it felt very strange, so he scurried back inside his head and stayed there.

*****

When Thailog next became aware of his surroundings, the hall was full of sleeping figures. The defunct warrior had no notion of when they had entered. He wondered at their strange clothing and appearance, as he did at the peculiar behaviors that he knew they practiced. Then he had, what for him, was a revelation.

These odd rules of diet, dress, hair style, and conduct were all due to the priests. When anything bad happened, the priests said that God was punishing them for their wickedness, and they would find something about the people they did not like and forbid them to do it any longer. When the people had good luck, the priests maintained that God was rewarding them for their righteousness and would select some attribute and insist that it must never be changed for another fashion. In time, the elaborate superstitions of the priests developed into the complex collection of bizarre habits that Thailog observed in the people.

This chain of thought was interrupted when two men entered, apparently looking for someone. They finally approached a small figure, huddled at the foot of the dais. Thailog knew at once that it was Pavip they were whispering to, and he fairly flew out of his face to overhear what was being said.

They were brothers of the boy, the news of his achievement having reached their village. Their father wanted him to come home, but he informed them that he was commanded by the King to remain. Then he told them to go to the cave and bury the body they would find there. It would not do to have anyone else discover it lying in the shepherd's bed, where the dried blood would prove that the death had happened there. They were to burn the evidence, Pavip instructed them.

Then they could take the sheep back to their father, if they could find them. "Father will be furious, if any sheep are lost," the older said.

"What are a few domestic animals, compared to having a national hero in the family and an intimate of the King?" Pavip countered. "Think what benefits I will one day be able to heap upon my loving family." But they wanted a benefit right away, so Pavip went out with them and returned alone, a half hour later.

Thailog did not follow. When he fully realized what he had done, how long he had been out of his little house on the wall, he felt insecure and returned to his place. He knew what they were doing anyway, and he did not care to see it. Carnal desires troubled him no longer.

*****

Over the next few days, Thailog observed the rituals of the King's audiences with the people and transactions with his ministers, those conducted in public, as well as the various entertainments provided to the court. He saw Pavip trying to be cute and attempting to be ingratiating to King Luas. It was not working, at least, not in the way the boy wanted. His antics angered the King.

What was obvious to Thailog, but apparently not to Pavip, was that Luas was one of those unusual men, who were exclusively interested in women, a condition that afflicted about as many as those with an exclusive desire for a youth. Thailog noticed, as well, that the boy's efforts were peaking the interest of others and the head priest, Leumas, was one of those.

The King, however, became increasingly irate at the presumptuous lad, which may have contributed to the headaches he complained of more frequently. In an effort to make himself indispensable, Pavip bribed the musician, with a silver coin he obtained from Shammah, to lend him his lyre. Thailog, his aesthetic senses intact, was impressed by the beauty of the lad's playing and the sweetness and purity of his singing voice.

This did seem to soothe the King, so Pavip was both cause and cure of the malady. That Luas felt he could do without the suffering all together, may have been why, one evening, he suddenly took hold of a spear and threw it at the boy. But Pavip escaped, jumping nimbly to the side, while the point of the lance stuck into the ground, exactly where he had been sitting and staring at the King with baleful, pleading eyes. From then on, Pavip presented a cheerful disposition, however he might have felt.

During the same few days, Thailog had to move permanently from his rotting cranium. It wasn't that the smell was too much for him or that he could feel maggots moving in his brain. The habitation was made unlivable by people spitting at him, which tended to distort his vision. One night a soldier, drunk with wine, had tried to urinate on the trophy. The ex-warrior was only splattered a little, but it was the last straw.

Now he moved about as he wished, settling into some corner for his rest periods. The space under the King's chair was convenient, except when Luas was there. Because, then, Thailog could not watch his reactions. These were much more revealing than his utterances. The one thing he did not do was look upon his own deteriorating countenance.

*****

When Pavip was sufficiently frustrated by his failure to sexually interest King Luas, he began to be more receptive to the overtures of the head priest, who held out to Pavip the opportunity to become a priest. Thailog thought that the boy might take up this offer, since he would soon need something to justify his continuance at the court. The novelty of the head upon the wall was going to wear thin. In a few weeks, it would be dried out and could have been almost anyone. The people would forget and not object to Pavip's departure.

Leumas escalated his intimations of future rewards never actually promised. He told Pavip that he, himself, became head priest when his predecessor, Ille, chose him as a boy, later making him his heir over his own sons. But Pavip, although he was friendly toward the old man, did not yield his charms, saying that he did not think that he was cut out for a life of holiness. The priest persisted, however, increasing the frequency of his requests. Finally, one night, Pavip agreed to meet Leumas in his chamber, but only to play the lyre and sing for him.

Thailog's curiosity was too much for him and he followed, slipping under the door. Although there were several chairs, the boy sat on the edge of the bed. Leumas sat beside him and petted the lad while he sang. In between pieces, the priest pleaded for release from his suffering. Pavip unexpectedly relented, jumping up and shedding his garments. The head priest got out of his clothing as fast as he could manage. The contrast between the beautiful youth and the wrinkled, aged man was striking.

"Get some lubricant," Pavip directed.

"I'd have to dress again and go out," the head priest complained.

"That's too bad. I can't wait around," the boy threatened.

"But I have nothing here," Leumas moaned.

"Then forget it," Pavip told him, reaching for his things.

"Wait!" I do have something," the man said and he took down a ram's horn container from an ornamental shelf. Removing the stopper, he put some oil on Pavip's rump and rubbed it in. But the confusion and upset had caused the chief priest to lose his erection. "Oh dear!" he cried out in remorse.

But Pavip said he could fix that and he got down on his knees taking the flaccid member into his mouth. Leumas's penis remained soft. The boy told him to relax, there was not any hurry. Thailog could see the priest's instrument gradually begin to stiffen.

"Put your hands on my head and thrust a little," the lad instructed. The old man did as he was told and achieved orgasm a few minutes later. He was profuse with his thanks. Pavip interrupted.

"Was that holy oil you used? You got some in my hair," he said, running his fingers through it and then showing them to Leumas, shiny from a thin film.

The priest hesitated. "Of course not," he replied, "that would be improper."

"Why?" the lad asked. "I need to know, if I'm to be head priest some day."

This may have caused Leumas to think that Pavip would become his boy. Otherwise, he should never have answered the question. He explained that holy oil was used for anointing a new king, and they already had one. A new king would be anointed when Luas died; or, if God, as determined by the priests, cast off King Luas, another might be anointed. "So, we priests have great power," Leumas boasted in hopes of strengthening his relationship with the youth.

Later, Pavip told one of his younger and more gullible brothers, that Leumas had taken him secretly to his room. There, he had anointed him with holy oil, because God had departed from Luas and had chosen Pavip as his successor. A few weeks later, in a remote and poor village, one child passed the rumor to another. When it was repeated to Leumas, he disavowed it. His denials did not convince anyone, because the deed was supposed to be a secret. King Luas was furious and suspicious of the head priest, but Leumas insisted that it had never happened and that Pavip must not be blamed, because he was a good boy and would never have spread a falsehood.

For his part, Pavip supported Leumas's repudiation of the story, explaining that he had spent time with the head priest in order to explore the possibility of the priesthood for himself, but that he had decided against it. He thought he would prefer a military career, he maintained.

Actually, Thailog was convinced that Leumas was afraid of Pavip being cornered, fearing that, in desperation, the lad might tell how he had been anointed. If the head priest was deserted by his fellow priests and the public, then Leumas and his whole family could be destroyed by the King. Luas could be planning to have him assassinated anyway. Thus, he contrived an ambiguous answer to use when his colleagues asked him about the tale, so that the King could not move against him without weakening his own position. At the same time, however, he wanted nothing more to do with such a dangerous paramour.

*****

The head priest did not complain when King Luas promoted Pavip, giving him command of a unit of one hundred, barely trained recruits and an assignment to patrol a particularly dangerous area. Thailog was ecstatic that his murderer had been so cleverly trapped, and went along with the expedition, eager to witness Pavip's destruction at the hands of his own former associates. He had not counted on the boy ignoring his orders.

Pavip did take his troop to the area, but they did not patrol. Instead, he spent weeks training his force and spying on the movements of the opposing side. Waiting until there was a much smaller party of the enemy in a vulnerable position, he attacked with superior numbers.

His soldiers behaved splendidly. It was obvious that they had great admiration for their leader, the slayer of the formidable Thailog, who may have been chosen by God as the next King, who was beautiful, charming and friendly, and treated them like brothers. The lad's confidence was infectious. They could do anything. Pavip was invincible, and so were they. And, loving him as they did, they would let nothing happen to him. Furthermore, they were successful, winning every engagement with ease.

When his unit was battle hardened, Pavip became more aggressive, defeating larger forces. He harried Thailog's conceited, blundering compatriots, throughout the region. Of course, when headquarters understood what was happening, they prepared a larger, veteran column, under expert leadership, to put down the upstart.

Pavip's brilliant reconnaissance discovered the new threat at once. He decided that it was time to rest his soldiers, so they returned from the front, loaded with the booty gained in combat, impressive in their military bearing, full of stories of their exploits and those of their illustrious commander. In the eyes of the people, he was more a hero than ever. They compared his victories with those of King Luas. Although the King's were much greater, it was Pavip who captured their imagination, so they exaggerated his achievements.

Worse, from the King's point of view, many in his army took inspiration from the fearless youth, including one of the King's own sons, Nathanjo. Now Pavip was back in the city at the head of a small, but dedicated, group of seasoned veterans. The youth's position with the public had been strengthened. Thailog wondered what the King would try next; poison perhaps.

*****

Pavip's entrance into the presence of the King was astonishing. He was delayed, because he had to see to the billeting of his troops. By the time he arrived, the audience chamber was overflowing with people of consequence, dressed in their finest, many in robes of office. But the youth wore the same simple shepherd's garb that he had that day, nearly a year ago, when he had first set foot in the King's hall. It made him look very young and innocent.

He walked slowly forward, carrying in his arms the silver decorated swords of twelve enemy officers. When the lad arrived at the dais, he went down on both knees, lowered his head in an attitude of humility, and made a simple speech, audible only to the King and the people in the front. This required them to recall the words when asked to repeat them by those in the rear. His sentence flowed to the back of the hall like ripples on the surface of a pond.

"My Lord, please receive this offering from your servant, Pavip," Of course, he was speaking to the King, rather than to God, for otherwise he would have brought the captured weapons to the temple. King Luas's face was red with barely controlled rage. What must the people think, thought Thailog. How can the King be angry with this boy, who must be good in God's eyes, unless he has truly abandoned Luas? Surely the King's reaction must be incomprehensible to the populace.

But Thailog's attention was caught by a young man, who was sitting on a stool at the King's right hand. He looked to be smitten, although the wound was invisible. When the pause became noticeable, and still the King had not responded or delegated someone to accept the gift, this fellow rose, moving slowly, like a sleepwalker, and took the swords from the kneeling youth. The spectators roared their approval and the King slipped out the side door.

As the assemblage dispersed in confusion, Thailog followed the young man, wishing to find out who he was. He turned out to be Nathanjo, the King's eldest son. King Luas gave the Prince a dressing down in private. "Don't you realize what a threat this conniver is to your future? If he lives, you will never be king," King Luas instructed. "And how can you do something during an audience, that I haven't asked you to do?" he demanded to know.

"I thought you were too moved to speak," his son pleaded.

"I'll move you!" the King shouted and made as though to kick the young man, but he did not carry through. "Get out of my sight."

The next morning, Nathanjo went to Pavip's camp, where the sentry recognized him and escorted him immediately to his commander's tent. Pavip greeted the Prince warmly. "I wanted to congratulate you, personally, on your achievements," Nathanjo said. Pavip asked him if he would review his troops and say a few words to them, which the King's son agreed to do, returning afterward to Pavip's tent.

Nathanjo noticed the poor quality clothing and armor that Pavip was wearing. "Army issue," the lad explained, laughing.

"Take it all off," the Prince ordered. Then he gave Pavip his own handsome things, even his bow and arrows, exchanging everything for the boy's. "From this day, you will be my bother," Nathanjo promised. Pavip smiled at this and then they embraced. "But my father has it in for you," Nathanjo alerted him. "You must be careful." Pavip thanked him for the warning and they parted.

The relationship developed slowly, because Pavip waited for Nathanjo to take the initiative. Before long, they were going arm in arm in public, while in private, embracing was followed by kissing, and led eventually to all the rest. Nathanjo was deeply in love and, if Pavip were not, he gave an excellent impression of it, Thailog felt.

Meanwhile, other young men flocked to Pavip's encampment wanting to enlist. Most were accepted and he created new companies, sending them off for training with member of his original band. This reduced the number of soldiers he had with him, but there were still too many for a lone assassin to penetrate. They prepared all of their own food, and that was donated by private citizens.

The King's supply officers were upset when their comestibles were sent back. But Pavip explained that it would be inappropriate to offend the people by not using their gifts. The King's goods were thereby preserved for a later day, when they might be critically needed. Pavip's men also hauled their own water from a well within the perimeter.

Three weeks later, King Luas announced that he was charging Pavip with treason. The pseudo shepherd was raising an army against him, he charged. Also, the youth was responsible for circulating heretical tales about God's support for the King, who God, himself, had chosen to govern and to lead his people. Furthermore, the boy engaged in immoral activities of a sexual nature that were too lewd to be described.

At that very moment, Luas announced, forces loyal to him were arresting the criminal and would bring him to justice. But they found nothing at Pavip's camp. He had been forewarned by Nathanjo and had stolen away. His new companies had been disbanded, denying them to King Luas, and he, with his experienced soldiers had left for the wilderness they knew so well.

*****

The next period was not very interesting to Thailog, Luas with his army searching for the boy and his companions. They always knew where the King was and would sneak into the area he had just departed. Of course, Thailog wanted to be in on the kill, when it finally happened. So he left a bit of his consciousness behind, just enough to call him back at the right time, and then he went soaring, as he termed it.

He drifted over the whole Earth, finding peoples and cities he had not known existed. Languages were learned, along with histories and all of their philosophies, customs and technologies. It was fascinating. Never had he been so contented or so satisfied.

Thailog had to admit that the boy had done him a favor, releasing him from the constraints of a body and its fiendish desires that operated to restrain and enslave him. Now he was free and enjoyment was everywhere, specially in the acquisition of knowledge, and perhaps, he hoped, some wisdom.

Eventually, he wondered how his own people were getting on. Did they remember him at all? What he found was alarming. They were building up an army to attack King Luas, who they had heard was so obsessed in putting down a minor rebellion, that he had made himself vulnerable. "No!" Thailog screamed at the plotters. "Wait until he has killed the boy." His efforts failed, he could not get through.

The opposing army trapped King Luas on a hilltop. Nathanjo, who had refused service while Luas was stalking his soul mate, joined his father to face the real enemy. Pavip offered his assistance, but was refused. When the attack came, the King's troops were defeated and his sons fell in battle. Seeing that all was lost, Luas took his own life.

Pavip moved quickly to the capital and organized a successful defense. The people wanted him for their king. The priests urged Leumas to proclaim the succession, but he hesitated. Finally, the leading citizens and priests again crowded the chamber, where Thailog's skull still looked down upon them. Confronting the head priest, as he stood beside the empty chair, they demanded that he anoint Pavip as King. "There is no need," Leumas said. "It has already been done."

*****

It was many years before Thailog could bring himself to see how the boy was doing. To say that Pavip and his people were prospering would be an understatement. He found the King at the new capital of an expanded country, in a great hall, conducting the day's business. Thailog was positioned a foot or so to the right of Pavip, when the King rose, turned and seemed to look right at him. "Come with me, I've something I want you to see," he said.

The idea that Pavip knew he was there, gave him a momentary shock. But as the King moved to the private doorway, another, who had been standing behind Thailog, followed. No sooner had he relaxed, when King Pavip noticed this attendant. "What are you doing?" he asked him.

"Did you not tell me to accompany you, my Lord?"

"I was speaking to someone else," the King replied, and he proceeded alone to the passage, except for Thailog, fighting panic.

They went to the King's quarters. Prior to entering the chamber, Pavip again looked at Thailog, saying, "I am going to make a baby and I want you to watch. The woman is very beautiful, a recent widow. I had to get rid of her husband in order to have her. I planned his death much like old Luas tried to arrange for mine, so long ago. But my plan was a good one." He said this not boastfully, or with cruelty, but as a child might, pleased with himself for being clever.

Abeshthab was already naked and waiting for the King. She was lovely indeed. While they were at it, Thailog noticed that Pavip was a boy no longer. There was hair on his legs and he was thick in the middle. It dawned on him, that the plans he had once made for their future, to have Pavip as his slave boy, would not have lasted this long. Perversely, Pavip would not have remained a youth. And it was obvious, from the forceful thrusting of the King, that their relationship, had it come to pass, would have had to change to one of comrades, if it were to continue.

When he was finished, Pavip sat up and spoke again to Thailog. "Stay a while, I want to talk to you."

"Who are you speaking to?" Abeshthab asked.

"The spirit of Thailog. It is right there," he said pointing exactly to Thailog's location.

"And are the soul's of Luas and Nathanjo and my former husband also here?" She inquired, teasingly.

"Of course not. Now be quiet and let me conduct the King's business," he said to her in the same bantering manner."

"Yes, your Majesty," Abeshtheb tittered, agreeing to play her lover's little game, whatever it might be.

Turning back to Thailog, he confided, "I had a dream last night. The child I have just created will be a boy and will be King after me. Not only that, but he will be the greatest King my people will ever have."

Has he always known that I was here, Thailog wondered.

"I have," Pavip said, "and I know your thoughts, as well."

Why did you not let on, the warrior thought.

"Because you would not have remained. You would have flown away, before everything could be completed." Pavip laughed, as though he had played a great joke on Thailog. "Now it is already too late."

Nonsense, Thailog decided, I can be free from here in an instant.

"No you can't," the King asserted. "If you try, you will discover that I am right."

Thailog made for an open window, but came up against an invisible barrier that prevented his departure. He tried a crack in the door with the same result. Pavip was shaking with mirth.

Then Thailog began to feel a force, as though he were a piece of iron being attracted by a magnet. He fought against it, but its power increased, until he was using all of his mental strength to resist. Exhausted by the effort, he had to give in, and his spirit was instantly drawn into the body of the woman and crammed into the tiniest possible enclosure, a cage of miniscule size.

Even worse, Thailog felt his memories begin to fade, as though his mind was being washed clean of everything he knew. Unlike his restful trances, he struggled against what was happening to him. The process was relentless and horrible.

That bastard Pavip, he thought. Trap the soul of a man. Dreams, … live in a palace, … soul of a man, … sol o'man, …

*****

Then there were no more thoughts, only the sound of the woman's heart beat and the occasional gurgling of her digestive system.