by Jeremy Reed
‘I don’t understand. When we left him he was wearing his black Armani jacket.’
‘I’m only telling you what I see. We need to cross the stream and go further over to the right.’
Jim followed Masako as she began to pick a tentative course over a narrow stream that led into a still deeper grouping of trees. The oaks appeared even older here, ancient custodians of a place that had remained unchanged by time.There was something about their durability that struck him as oddly menacing, as though they saw off humans while remaining indifferent to anything but their own permanence.
Jim followed through a raffish tangle of brambles and bracken and succeeded in getting snared as they forced a way into the opposite wood. For the first time tonight he felt genuinely afraid. He was on the point of suggesting they turned back but kept on, unwilling to show his fear.
‘We’re not far away,’ Masako said, stopping in her tracks and staring across at a cluster of trees. Jim came up and stood at her shoulder and looked towards the oval-shaped arch into the wood. The setting sun was concentrated on the entrance, its red-gold strobe directed in a single powerful beam.
‘Maybe we should turn back,’ he said. ‘It’s not safe for us to be here with the light going.’
‘This won’t take long,’ Masako assured him. ‘Trust me. I know he’s in there.’
‘You mean he’s waiting to be sacrificed,’ Jim said, the reality of the situation starting to hit home.
They crossed the remaining distance in silence. He could hear his heart beating so loudly that it hurt.
When they went in through the arch his eyes had to adjust to the change of light. They found themselves in a circular space scored with footprints and instinctively he knew they were closing in on the orgy-tree. The ground was rutted from activity, and the remains of a fire had left its scorch-mark under a massive beech forcing its antlers upwards into the light.
‘He’s in here,’ Masako whispered, her voice dropping to accommodate the stillness of the place. She led the way forward towards a giant oak which seemed to have split itself into two distinct trees in its industry of growth. A squirrel bolted across the foreground pursued by another in a rapid, screeching foray. As they drew nearer Jim could see Antonio’s clothes neatly folded in a parcel on the ground, the black jacket on top of the purple shirt and grey trousers, all arranged with obsessive tidiness as though placed on a chair overnight at home. As they closed in he saw that a knife had been punched through a heart cut into the oak’s warped bark. The blade had been forced in deep and had clearly remained undetected by the Heath Police, as there were traces of rust along the cutting edge. It was, he realized, a symbol that stood for a minority which lived outside convention and the law.
Quite suddenly he felt Masako place her hand on his thigh to arrest his progress.
‘Jim, quick. Look over there,’ she said, pointing to someone sitting with his back to a tree and partially concealed from view. The figure was wearing what looked like a long purple gown, the hem picked out with gold.
Jim knew immediately it was Antonio and in astonishment called out his name.
Antonio didn’t move. He sat there staring in front of him, like someone in trance. Jim wondered if he’d been drugged or had taken something to prepare himself for the violence he was anticipating. He looked every bit the sacrificial victim awaiting Slut and his coterie.
When he didn’t answer they went up to him, thrown by the force of his catatonic stare.
‘Antonio, you’ve got to come with us,’ Masako said, extending a hand. ‘Trust us. You’re with friends.’
‘All we’ve got to do is go back to the road and find a taxi,’ Jim added. ‘You can’t go through with this. These men are evil.’
Antonio still wouldn’t respond, and Jim could see that he was naked under the silk gown and shivering from the chilly night breeze that had sprung up.
‘This place puts a spell on people,’ Masako said. ‘You’ll break it by coming with us.’
Jim held out his hand, and to his surprise Antonio tentatively gripped it. He was clearly unable to stand by himself, but with Masako’s assistance Jim succeeded in getting him to his feet.
‘What have you taken?’ Jim asked. ‘We’ll get you checked out by a doctor, when we get back.’
Antonio said nothing. He continued to stare at some imperceptible point in consciousness as Masako quickly retrieved his clothes, stuffed them into their accompanying carrier-bag and returned to help Jim walk Antonio out of the wood. Each took an arm as they moved slowly forwards, a cerise slash of sky up there in a ruckus of grey cloud being all that remained of the sunset.
With each painfully manipulated step forward Jim felt safer. He jostled with alarm as they almost tripped over two clones having sex in the grass. He took the precaution of keeping clear of the main footpath leading to the car-park, certain that Slut and his gang would use this route. The dark was coming on, and there were men in the shadows like predatory wolves. He could see and smell their presence in and amongst the trees. He wondered when the night-watchman would arrive and switch on the green fairy-lights and the whole scene would come alive.
Their progress was slow, but Jim knew they were going to make it. He was struck by the dark humour attached to the situation in their supporting someone who looked like a drag queen out of a place notorious for its subversive sexual rites. He widened their arc, even though it meant making a longer journey. He wanted to keep away from the ruins that extended into the woods, for he knew men would be waiting there, sniffing out their strategies for the night. He stopped abruptly in his tracks, startled by a noise, but it was only an owl coming on with a soft oboe in the twilight. All around them a nocturnal underworld was alerting itself to the steady arrival of night. Foxes were out and so, too, were men in their pursuit of undercover sex.
Antonio said nothing, and when they stopped and rested by a cluster of bushes Jim heard the piercing notes of a whistle issue from the direction of the orgy-tree. Its shrill alarming imperative sounded to his ears like an urgent summons. In his paranoid state he imagined they had been spotted. But it was dark now, and he took comfort in the knowledge that it was unlikely they could be seen from the woods. Way over to their right, his eyes picked out the tunnelling headlights of the Heath Police on their night patrol. It looked like they were purposely keeping clear of the centre of gay activity, the van nosing down a footpath like a white shark cruising the depths.
They weren’t that far from the boundary road and, despite the hard work involved in supporting Antonio, he was certain they would get there. If anything, Antonio seemed more responsive now and their progress a little more fluent. Jim could hear traffic on the other side of the trees and knew that a whole different world existed once they came off the Heath. Masako was right, he told himself; the place felt as though an electromagnetic field was drawing those who came here to its centre, like aircraft disappearing in the Bermuda Triangle.
‘We need to get you dressed,’ Jim said to Antonio as they paused again beneath the trees. They sat him down, stripped him of his toga and managed somehow to get his clothes on.
‘No taxi will stop for us with you looking like that,’ Jim said, as Antonio allowed himself to be dressed. As an afterthought he took the toga and spiked it on a bush, hoping the garment would surprise someone out walking their dog in the early morning. If the place had a bad name, then he would add to it by leaving behind this mischievous pointer to the night’s sexual activities.
He froze, hearing someone coming towards them on the path, but the figure kept a wide berth and headed off in the direction of the woods. He could see headlights now and hear a steady stream of cars burning along the road’s hard shoulder. His ankle hurt from having twisted it in a ditch, but that was something he would attend to later when there was time.
As they came out through the trees, the moon had risen, and its light hit them full on. Antonio was able to walk by himself now, and the three of them stood back, all focused on a particular
moment in time, through a shared vision. The light was momentarily dazzling, before heavy clouds obscured the view.
They came off the Heath and, taking advantage of a pause in traffic, crossed over the road to the other side. Jim looked at Masako for a sign that the spell had been broken. Already he felt lighter and freer, as though Slut no longer had the power to draw him into his circle. For the moment he stood there, waiting for a taxi with its orange light to materialize out of the dark, grind to an abrupt halt and, headed their way, take them the one route home.
PETER OWEN PUBLISHERS
81 Ridge Road, London N8 9NP
Peter Owen books are distributed in the USA by
Independent Publishers Group/Trafalgar Square
814 North Franklin Street, Chicago, IL 60610, USA
First published in Great Britain 2004 by
Peter Owen Publishers
This ebook edition 2014
© Jeremy Reed 2004
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publishers.
PAPERBACK ISBN ISBN 978-0-7206-1193-8
EPUB ISBN 978-0-7206-1602-6
MOBIPOCKET ISBN 978-0-7206-1603-3
PDF ISBN 978-0-7206-1604-0
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
www.peterowen.com
Independent publishers since 1951
Table of Contents
Praise for Boy Cesar
About the Author and About this Book
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Introduction
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Copyright
Contacts Page
Some Authors