by Alan Lawton
“Go to the Festival!” Myra continued. “I will cast a luck-spell to help protect you and I shall remain here with Wilakin to watch over the boat. Yet be sure that you all carry arms and wear full battle garb when you go ashore and, for your lives, do not become separated for a single moment.”
The young witch kissed her brother on the lids of both eyes, and then departed from the cabin without uttering another word.
Darryl watched his sister leave, then he donned his iron studded protective tunic and trousers and buckled on the sword ‘Kingslayer.’ He then strode out into the cockpit of the boat and proceeded to name the members of the crew who were to be allowed ashore. The boatmaster ordered the men to arm themselves, as Myra had suggested; as an afterthought, he revisited the cabin and added a tight fitting iron skull-cap to his military equipment, together with the spiked shield ‘Gutripper.’
George also joined the shore party on the dockside, wearing a protective tunic and trousers and a close fitting helmet. His massive long handled axe rested upon his right shoulder and the murderous butcher’s cleaver hung menacingly from his belt. The other leave-taking crewmembers were also gathered upon the dockside wearing protective clothing. A heavy gill swung from Dromon’s waist, whilst the two young blood-cousins, Tess and Tom-Tess, carried the short boarding pikes that were their favourite close-range weapons. The boatmaster finished by giving firm instructions for the shore party to remain within close proximity to each other at all times. Led by the knowledgeable Dromon, they moved inland towards the scene of the revelry.
The party stepped out briskly, and quickly cleared the dockland area fringing the river. Soon, they began making their way through a district of small cottage type dwellings, each fronted by an ample patch of garden that invariably contained a pen of domesticated do-fowl and a nut laden Thoa tree.
“The homes of common day-labourers,” Dromon explained causally. “Not royal palaces by any means, but far better than anything that land-less river-folk can normally aspire to own!”
The boat hand had hardly finished speaking when a procession of revellers, about five hundred strong suddenly appeared from a side-road and the boat’s company was soon engulfed in a flood of humanity. Fortunately, the crowd were in no way threatening and the travellers where soon at ease in their midst. Even so, the newcomers were amazed by the appearance of many of the individuals who surrounded them.
The procession was made up of members of both sexes, and they ranged in age from adolescents who were undergoing the effects of puberty, to elder citizens with deeply lined faces. But young adults in the fertile years of early maturity were present in overwhelming numbers. All were in various stages of semi-nakedness and their bodies were adorned with freshly cut fronds of crimson vegetation; this scant covering was certainly not intended to ensure the privacy of individual revellers, for the breasts of most of the females were prominently displayed and decorated with brightly painted symbols, as were the lower organs of both sexes.
Dromon noticed the look of surprise upon the boatmaster’s face and burst out laughing.
“You are shocked master.” He said. “But please remember that you are witnessing a celebration of the reproductive powers of nature and the open nakedness, that you see before you is but a visible manifestation of these people’s devout faith.”
The crowd advanced in an easterly direction and Dromon suggested that it would be best if they accompanied the throng, for he understood that the shrine of Persephone was situated a little way inland and was a place where much interesting ritual activity could be observed.
Darryl took the boathands’ advice and the company marched eastwards amidst the crowd of revellers. At first, he wondered if the military appearance of his group would arouse the animosity of the islanders, but the only attention they received from the semi-naked populace was a few ribald comments, such as. “Hey, you white skinned Northlander’s, are you looking for a fuck or a fight?” Or. “Get rid of your axes and spears newcomers, and start waving your baby-makers around instead!”
In general, however, the revellers were friendly towards their uninvited guests and offered them draughts of Thoa-nut beer from the skin flasks that many of them carried, a kindness much appreciated by the newcomers, for the day was warm and the protective clothing they wore was hot and made them sweat profusely.
The column, in which the newcomers marched, was eventually joined by multitudes of other worshippers and the entire mass of humanity flocked into a huge stadium, hewn out of the gently sloping hillside.
The sides of the stadium were terraced and covered with a soft purple moss, upon which the revellers reclined and waited for the ceremonies to begin; the uninvited group were also glad of the opportunity to rest and neglecting to bring their own refreshments proved to be of no concern, for a group of nearby worshippers handed them ample supplies of food and drink.
“Eat and drink your fill strangers.” They cried. “No worshiper must go hungry or thirsty, if ‘Persephone’ is to be properly venerated!”
Far below them, in the body of the stadium, was an open arena of considerable size that had been liberally strewn with fronds of the same purple creeper that adorned the bodies of the worshippers. Suddenly, a single booming drum-beat echoed across the entire stadium and the enormous gathering fell silent. From the mouth of a wide tunnel situated at one end of the arena, there appeared a tall woman dressed in a long deep purple robe that covered her from head to foot. She paused in the centre of the arena and clapped her hands. Immediately groups of musicians, situated in the farthest reaches of the stadium, obeyed her signal and struck up a strange rhythmic melody, throbbing and pulsing over the entire gathering.
Darryl eyed the scene with interest and saw that most of the worshippers had begun to sway the upper portions of their bodies in time to the music, whilst a few were seen leaping briefly to their feet and executing some impromptu dance-steps before subsiding, once again, onto the soft purple moss.
Again, the great drum sounded, but this time it echoed over the beat of the other instruments and from the tunnel there emerged a double line of figures, all dressed in a similar fashion to the priestess who was now standing motionless in the centre of the arena. The two lines of figures separated upon reaching the open air and each line began circling around the other from opposite directions. Gradually, the tempo of the music increased and the circling figures began executing the steps of a rhythmic processional dance as they moved. Faster and faster grew the tempo of the music and soon the two lines of figures were crossing at an ever increasing speed. As they moved, their robes flared open, and the newcomers noticed that one of the lines of dancing figures was made up entirely of handsome youths, whilst the other was comprised of beautiful young girls who were all in the first flush of early womanhood.
Darryl viewed the surrounding worshippers and he noted, with surprise, that many of them had paired off and where copulating vigorously upon the soft moss of the terraces.
Dromon burst out laughing. “The lovemaking surprises you master. Yet it is quite normal for the worshippers of ‘Persephone’ to pay homage to their Goddess in this fashion.
For during the festival, all vows of marriage and chastity are set aside and anyone can lie with whom they please. The children, who are conceived during these couplings, will be born during the next season of rains, and be collectively called ‘The Children of ‘Persephone,’ in honour of the deity.”
The great drum sounded for a third and final time; at that point the two lines of dancers merged together forming themselves into mixed couples, who proceeded to copulate frenziedly upon the floor of the arena.
The music throbbed for a further ten minutes, whilst the young couples honoured the Earth Goddess before the vast adulating throng. Then the officiating priestess, who had remained motionless throughout the entire proceedings, suddenly threw up her arms and the music ceased abruptly; the young couples in the arena sprang apart disappearing into the tunnel as quickly as they had
appeared. The purple robed priestess followed, and the official ceremony came to an end the moment she disappeared from view.
The vast throng of worshippers, however, had obviously no intention of departing to their respective homes, for the feasting, drinking and lovemaking continued apace.
But the lure of the beer-flask appeared to be assuming precedence over all other activities, for white-robed slaves began circulating amongst the revellers with skins of the common Thoa-nut beverage hanging from their shoulders and they distributed measures of the brew to all who extended a drinking vessel in their direction.
Darkness fell with its usual swiftness, but the celebrations continued as before, with numerous lanterns and torches illuminating the proceedings. Singers and dancers, jugglers and clowns, performed to the delight of the crowd, yet Darryl gradually became tired of the scene and he began considering the wisdom of a return night-march back to the dock were the ‘Bonny Barbara’ lay under repair. Then a soft female hand began to gently stroking his cheek with the softest possible touch, and, turning his head, he beheld a young woman kneeling at his side. The woman was of statuesque build, with sharp dark nippled breasts that jutted out beyond the garlands of vegetation adorning the upper portions of her body. She was obviously a person of considerable wealth, for bracelets of burnished copper encircled her wrists, and a pin of the same material restrained her long dark hair.
She placed a finger upon the boatmaster’s lips, in order to maintain his silence.
“My name does not matter Northman.” She whispered softly. “But during this darkening, you may call me ‘Surri,’the fair one!”
She giggled. “It has always been my wish to lie with a man of your skin-colour. You may possess me until the last hour before dawn, if it is your wish?”
Darryl hesitated. “We must leave here soon, also my friends are…”
“Do not worry over the wellbeing of your men.” Surri interrupted. “My hand-maidens are four in number and will take good care of your comrades. Whilst you and I travel to paradise beneath my love-shroud!”
So saying, the woman swiftly unfolded a voluminous sheet of some light Purple material, which she drew over the boatmaster and herself, thus shielding them both from the prying eyes of the throng. Darryl began protesting and he attempted to rise, but the dark-haired woman thrust him down with surprising strength.
“Easy, my lover of the night,” She whispered. “Would you offend the Great Goddess by refusing a gift of love? Will you not lie with me and thank nature for all the lavish gifts that she bestows upon mankind?”
Surri kissed the boatmaster on the cheek, and nibbled at his right ear-lobe, whilst simultaneously moving her left hand down to the crotch of his protective trousers, where her nimble fingers began to deftly release the leather fastenings.
Darryl groaned with frustration, for he had not made love to a woman since entering the Water-Realm and the cloying perfume worn by his present companion played upon his senses like a drug. His determination evaporated like a drop of water upon a glowing hob.
“No danger can possibly exist here.” He decided, as his hand reached out for the women’s moist sex. “We can have our fill of these wenches until dawn and still reach the “Bonny Barbara” before she’s repaired and ready to depart. Aye, and that will be time enough and no mistake!”
A strange bird-like sound, carried upon the breeze, brought Darryl back to full consciousness and he cast off the woman’s love-shroud that was still covering him. He rose to his feet and found that he was able to view his surroundings without undue difficulty, for the first glimmer of light from the five suns was beginning to illuminate the stadium.
He ran his eyes over the moss-covered terraces and beheld the sleeping forms of last night’s revellers. Some rested in each other’s arms, totally drained by their frantic bouts of lovemaking, whilst others lay prone amidst pools of stinking vomit, after over-indulgence in Thoa-nut beer had rendered them incapable of movement.
Surri and her four hand-maidens were nowhere to be seen, but George and the three other crewmembers lay upon the ground, fast asleep, with the women’s discarded love-shrouds roughly draped over their bodies.
Once again, a distant high pitched cry drifted over the stadium and Darryl was instantly alarmed, for he knew it to be a scream of terror issuing from the throat of some terrified human. He immediately kicked his comrades into full conciseness.
“Hurry up, you idle buggers.” He growled, closing up the fastenings of his protective garb and buckling the sword ‘Kingslayer’ to his waist. “Rise and arm yourselves for some danger is approaching and we must be prepared to meet it!”
The travellers did not have to wait long for the danger to openly reveal itself, for the cry of terror was quickly followed by many others, until the very air echoed with the sound of screaming. Another sound also began manifesting itself, the growl and roaring of rapidly advancing fighting men. Indeed, the four companions had barely time to cloth and arm themselves before a flood of terrified figures poured over the rim of the stadium.
The wave of panic-stricken fugitives was composed of human beings of both sexes and of all ages. Some were clad in flimsy night attire, or in garments hurriedly seized up at the commencement of their wild flight, but the vast majority were stark naked.
The fugitives trampled upon the existing occupants of the stadium, who awoke in terror and joined the fear-stricken rush to escape. Indeed, they had great need of instant flight, for hard upon the heels of the fugitives, there appeared a solid wall of heavily armed warriors, who drove forward with levelled spears and mercilessly slaughtered all who came within stabbing range of their weapons. Behind them came numerous groups of tow haired fighting men, in winged and crested helmets, who completed the act of butchery and robbed the corpses of their victims of anything of value.
None were spared! Even children, carried in their mother’s arms, were sliced in two halves by the pitiless cut of the sword, their bodies joining the red carpet of quivering human flesh that was remorselessly covering the terraces of that doomed place of worship.
“Saxmen warriors,” Dromon gasped. “They must have taken advantage of the festival to launch a surprise attack, now we shall pay for our night of screwing with our lives.”
“To hell with dying here,” Darryl roared. “Listen, all of you. Adopt the arrowhead formation that we have practiced so often, and then we shall smash our way out of this confounded trap.”
The tiny group quickly formed themselves into their well rehearsed combat formation. George, the giant axe-wielding boat hand, took the point position, whilst Dromon and the boatmaster stood immediately behind him in order to protect his vulnerable left and right flanks. Finally, the two youths, Tess and Tom-Tess, levelled their boarding spears and guarded the exposed rear of little battle formation.
Terrified fugitives poured past them, as they began advancing towards the rim of the stadium, and upon more than one occasion, they were compelled to use the flat of their weapons to beat the panic-stricken rabble aside, enabling them to continue their advance. Suddenly, the press of fugitives slackened, and they found themselves in open ground and closing rapidly upon the first rank of advancing enemy spearmen.
A clash between the tiny arrowhead of desperate fighting men and the spear-tipped line of Saxmen infantry should have proved fatal to the former. But the Saxmen formation became ragged as it descended into the stadium, for gaps had begun appearing in the ranks of the spearmen, due to a number of undisciplined warriors pausing to strip the bodies of the dead. Darryl spied one of these gaps and ordered George to make for it as quickly as possible.The huge boat hand immediately did as he was bidden, but a knot of fierce spearmen still confronted the mariners as their arrowhead formation reached the Saxmen battle-line.
A spearman thrust his weapon at George, who twisted violently sideways to escape the razor-sharp point. A split second later, the giant boat hand’s long handled axe flashed downwards, rending open the body of his adver
sary from shoulder to thigh. Simultaneously, another spearman attempted to stab George in his right side, but Darryl caught the spear-point on his target. ‘Kingslayer’ darted out once and the Saxman warrior fell with blood pouring from a gaping wound in his throat.
Three more spearmen died. Two fell before the whirling axe of the giant boat hand, whilst a third was beheaded by a slash from Dromon’s gill. Then the press slackened as the arrowhead formation burst through the front line of Saxmen spear-carriers.
The rim of the stadium was only two hundred paces away, but upwards movement was slow, for the intervening ground was thick with corpses and the purple moss of the terraces was copiously lubricated with the blood of slaughtered Islanders.
Even so, it seemed likely that the little group would reach open ground without further fighting, unfortunately, a Saxmen war-band, some forty strong, suddenly leapt into the stadium and charged headlong at the escaping mariners.
“Hold formation!” Darryl yelled above the screaming war cries of the oncoming enemy. “Remember to keep moving forward. It’s our only chance!”
Moments later, the leading member of the Saxmen war-band died beneath the young boat hand’s axe. A second later, every man in the little arrowhead formation was engaged in combat and fighting for his life. Some of the Saxmen warriors began working their way around the mariner’s formation to attack its vulnerable rear, but help came from an unexpected quarter. About a score of the worshippers had witnessed the river-farer’s penetration of the Saxmen spear-line, and taken station at the rear of the arrowhead formation, in a desperate effort to escape from the death trap. The mariner’s new allies had armed themselves with staves, shards of broken pottery, anything that could be used as a weapon and they fought with a savagery born of desperation; but their naked bodies were open to the steel of the Saxmen, and, one by one, they fell writhing in their own gore. Yet they protected the rear of the tiny formation, as it neared the lip of the stadium.