Celestial Kingdom

by Stan Mason

  Chapter Sixteen

  When Warrior arrived home from the gruelling session at the police station, he gave another brief oration to the crowd and then went inside. He was stunned to find Xantha Vesta standing in the lounge waiting for him.

  ‘You’re the last one I expected to see,’ he said in surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m here on a mission,’ she replied smoothly, looking absolutely perfect in her silver dress, still wearing the diamond tiara on her head. She stared closely at his face. ‘You look very tired and drawn out.’

  ‘So would you if you’d been grilled half the night and again this morning,’ he complained bitterly.

  She smiled easily. ‘Sometimes I wonder about the way human-beings run their lives. They make it very difficult for themselves.’

  ‘Tell me about it!’ he muttered disgruntled, allowing his tired eyes to roll over her sleek figure. She was such a beautiful woman in human form... one who always aroused him sexually whatever his condition. But then she was the Goddess of Love. ‘I could certainly had done with your help at the police station,’ he muttered.

  ‘Why didn’t you call for me. I would have come.’

  He shrugged his shoulders aimlessly. ‘There wasn’t any real danger. Not really.’ He walked into the kitchen looking to her to follow him. He picked up the kettle and half-filled it with water before placing it on the electric cooker. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ he asked inanely, pausing to realise the futility of the question. ‘No I don’t suppose you eat or drink, do you?’

  She shook her head sagely. ‘Eating and drinking are specific to mortal needs not to Gods.’

  He nodded his head slowly and turned towards her placing his arms around her slender waist. ‘Okay, tell me. Why have you come?’

  ‘I’m here on a mission,’ she repeated with a smile touching her lips. ‘One that ought to please you.’

  He pulled her towards him violently and kissed her hard on the lips. She complied with his actions and he felt a surge of excitement race through his body. He tightened his grip on her and she allowed him the licence to continue kissing her. ‘How do you get this dress off?’ he asked lightly after a while.

  ‘Now why would you want to do that?’ she replied liltingly. ‘Both your body and your mind are exhausted. The last thing you should do is to make love. You need sleep more than anything else.’

  ‘It’s the first thing I want to do. The very first thing.’ He lifted up her dress to feel the nakedness of her thighs. ‘You’re not wearing anything underneath,’ he gasped becoming sexually aroused.

  ‘Of course not,’ she told him blandly.

  He unzipped his trousers, almost ecstatic with sexual arousement, before lifting up the Goddess to waist height. She wrapped her legs around the middle part of his body, almost combining herself with him. Plunging himself forcefully inside her, he raised his head to kiss her repeatedly on the lips, moving forwards and backwards against the kitchen wall regularly to continue the sexual activity. He felt like a million dollars... sensuous, violent, exciting, passionate! She represented his whole sexual life at the moment! Eventually, after some time, he shuddered to a halt as he reached a climax recognising that she had arranged to for it to happen to her at the same time. The Goddess of Love was calculating and satisfying if nothing else. He released her and readjusted his clothing.

  ‘You never fail to make me feel good,’ he admitted breathlessly. ‘If only you were mortal... if only!’

  ‘I think you’d be a nervous wreck,’ she laughed loudly. ‘We’d be having sex all day and all night long. I doubt whether you could cope with it for long.’

  ‘If only!’ he repeated slowly wishing that the opportunity would arise. The kettle began to boil and he poured himself a cup of tea. ‘Okay,’ he went on, after sipping from the cup. ‘What’s your mission?’

  She stared at him seriously. Despite the fact that they had just made violent passionate love, her dress was perfect, her face was beautiful and there wasn’t one thing about her that was out of place. ‘I’ve been sent by Magester.’

  He groaned bitterly, ‘What does he want with me now?’

  He wants to offer you a present,’ she informed him.

  ‘Beware of Greeks bearing gifts is the saying. In this case it’s beware of Gods bearing gifts.’

  ‘Be gracious. He’s being kind to you.’ she went on.

  Warrior thought about her words for a moment. ‘Okay... what’s he got for me?’

  She smiled at him sweetly. ‘He’s agreed to return your sacrifice.’

  ‘Rebecca! He wants to give me back Rebecca!’ Despite his delight, the messenger appeared to be confused. The ruler of the Gods demanded that he sacrificed her... now he wanted to return her to him.

  ‘He needed to test your commitment. You gave it readily and he’s satisfied. So he’s allowing her to return providing you want her back.’

  The messenger thought about the offer carefully. Unless he didn’t ant her back! It seemed that the choice belonged entirely to him. He considered Rebecca’s attitude before Xantha Vesta took her to the Valley of the Souls. It was austere, cold, difficult! The matter of her return was not as simple as he first believed, especially as he had the option of refusing her. ‘May I ask you a question first,’ he ventured. ‘What’s the position between you and me?’

  She looked at him in surprise. ‘I’m your protector.’

  ‘Yes... but you’re also the Goddess of Love. Is it possible for us to have a continued sexual relationship or do you have other people to protect?’

  ‘All I can say is that you should make the most of me while I’m here. You can’t rely on my presence for long. I’m a Goddess, you are a mortal. When Magester insisted that you sacrifice your lover, you blamed me for jealousy. That was far from the truth. There is no jealousy within me. All that belongs in the province of Hena Streea, the Goddess of Jealousy. If you’re thinking of replacing Rebecca with me, I would discount that idea immediately. It will never happen.’

  He blew out his cheeks disappointedly. It was the answer that he expected but he wasn’t happy with it. As a result, there was no means by which he could refuse Rebecca’s return.

  ‘Well it was fun while it lasted,’ he uttered miserably. ‘I’d like to thank Magester for his decision. Are you sure you can get Rebecca back to me without any problems.’

  Xantha Vesta smiled at him and rested her arms on his shoulders. ‘My dear mortal,’ she continued warmly. ‘I’ll do much more than that. I shall erase the memory of your sexual activity with your wife from her mind so that she believes she is the only lover in your life. What could be better than that?’

  ‘Will she know about her journey to the Valley of the Souls or that I sacrificed her?’

  ‘That will also be erased from her mind.’

  ‘Then I can’t wait for her to come back,’ he said with an element of excitement in his voice.

  She released him and stepped back. ‘My mission has been completed,’ Within an instant she had vanished.

  He stared at the place where she had been standing with a whimsical expression on his face. He rued the fact that she was a Goddess and that he was a mere mortal. Why couldn’t they be on an even standing... but that was too much to expect. He sauntered into the lounge expecting Rebecca to be there but she was nowhere to be seen. He followed through to the bedroom to see a shape laying in the bed covered with the bedclothes. He moved closer and pulled them back to stare at the face of his mistress. As he did so, she opened her eyes and blinked at the light.

  ‘Oh Stephen,’ she cried, throwing her arms around him. ‘I had such an awful dream!’

  He thought deeply about her reaction. Only a few days earlier she had rejected his advances... not even allowing him to touch her. Now she was all over him with a completely different attit
ude. For that reason, he had a great deal to thank the Goddess of Love for, having erased all the inhibiting memories.

  ‘A bad dream,’ he repeated. ‘Tell me about it!’

  ‘There was this place in the clouds, way up high. Thee was a God who demanded me for a sacrifice. And you were the one to agree or disagree to it.

  ‘What did I decide?’ he asked keeping up the pretence.

  ‘You agreed, you swine! You did! You agreed to me being sacrificed!’

  ‘What happened in this high up place?’

  ‘I was taken to this valley where there were many other souls. I stayed there in limbo for what seemed like ever.’

  ‘Well let me tell you something,’ he lied, realising that there were two days in her life which were unaccounted for. ‘You fell ill two days ago, I called the doctor and he left you some tablets which you took and fell asleep. You’ve been sleeping the whole time. Do you feel any better?’

  ‘For two days?’ she echoed in disbelief, her face creasing with concern. ‘I don’t remember falling ill.’

  ‘That’s why you had such a vivid dream. But I’m glad you’ve recovered.’

  ‘Come to bed!’ she invited warmly. ‘Come on, get into bed. I want you... I need you!’

  ‘What now?’ he asked rhetorically as she opened the covers to welcome him inside.

  ‘I’ll tell you something else,’ she confided. ‘When that doctor returns, I want him to leave more of those tablets. They turn me on!’ She clutched him to her and placed her hand between his legs. ‘Come on, you little Devil!’ she ordered, feeling him grow larger. ‘I need you... I want you!’

  He felt himself becoming aroused again and ran his hands over her naked body, touching her breasts gently, stroking her rising nipples. Gradually, his passion came to the fore and he was once again moving his body upwards and downwards on top of her . He had to admit that it was not the same as making violent and passionate love to Xantha Vesta but she was the next best thing. And, furthermore, she was always there when he wanted her!

  ***

  David Hamilton, Charlie Brown and Patrick Reilly met one evening by arrangement. Hamilton had been very concerned at the great success achieved by the messenger and he had contacted the other two me to discuss the matter at his home. They sat around the table waiting for Hamilton to speak, each one with a crystal glass filled with alcohol in front of them.

  ‘I want to make it quite clear that this is not a meeting of the Christian Action Group,’ he stated clearly, talking down to the others in the same way as he did in the past. ‘Two other members of that committee are now dead and, in fact, the person to whom I gave my permission to assassinate our adversary is also gone. If we continued as a group, it would be likely that all of us would have died. Therefore this meeting is between just the three of us, as colleagues, who abhor the heretic and his message. Last time, we took an intrinsically passive view. This time, we must be far more positive and determined in our approach.’

  ‘You mean we’re now going all out to decided the means by which he’s to be assassinated,’ forwarded Brown uncomfortably, not wasting time with semantics.

  ‘Precisely,’ came the response, ‘but not in the way the others went about it.’

  ‘What have you in mind?’ asked Reilly innocuously, wondering what Hamilton had in mind.

  ‘Well,’ continued their host, ‘they were clearly caught in the act and murdered... except for Dobson of course. He was hoist by his own petard and suffered a heart attack. They were burned to death where they stood. Incinerated! I’ve no idea how that happened even though I witnessed it on that programme on television in which our adversary appeared.’

  ‘I saw it too,’ admitted Brown easily. ‘It was all rather startling. Who was that woman who came and went so quickly? If you ask me, it was some kind of an illusion.’

  ‘Except that the presenter of the programme died in the same way... incinerated!’ declared Hamilton glumly. ‘He was burned to death!’

  ‘If we’re going to do something about Warrior, we’ll have to do it together, all three of us!’ suggested Reilly curtly, although he had no idea of what the plan would be. ‘It’s a case of all for one, one for all!’ He had qualms that the onus of the assassination might fall directly on his shoulders. It was definitely not something that he wanted.

  ‘I’ll go along with that,’ said Brown in accord. ‘But what are we going to do, when are we going to do it, and how? These are the questions we need to address.’

  ‘Richard Toomey tried to kill him with a rifle,’ cut in Hamilton. ‘He sat in his car outside the adversary’s house and waited for him to come out. Somehow he managed to get himself burned to a cinder before it happened.’

  ‘Awful!’ muttered Brown unnecessarily.

  ‘We need to think up something original,’ ventured Reilly, his head hurting as he squeezed his brain to think of some method by which they could dispose of the messenger.

  They paused to sip their drinks, allowing the issue to pass through their minds. Eventually, the host clenched his hands together in front of him and pursed his lips, indicating that he had thought of something interesting.

  ‘Why don’t we treat him the same as the Romans dealt with Christ?’ he ventured. ‘Why not crucify the bastard. Put him out of the way for good in the traditional way!’

  ‘Hold on a minute!’ intervened Brown with concern showing on his face. ‘If we did something like that, he’d be made a martyr. Very much like Jesus Christ.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ returned the host calmly. ‘Many people were crucified in those days. It was the normal way of dealing with criminals and people undesirable to the Romans. Christ was simply one of them.’

  ‘I think Charlie’s right,’ commented Reilly reacting to the suggestion. ‘The sign of the cross comes from the crucifix. If we emulate the death of Christ, people might misconstrue it. They might think our adversary was a Messiah or even believe that he was the son of one of the Gods.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ retorted Hamilton. ‘That’s the sort of thinking which caused our committee to fall apart. We have to be positive! Crucifixion was a traditional way of execution. If they think we’re copying Christ’s death, the people will realise there is only one God and not thousands of them as he preaches. We’ll make an example of him by crucifying him in the same way as they did to our Lord!’

  ‘Say we agree to that,’ advanced Reilly quietly. Completely uncertain whether to it was the right method. ‘Where do we do it?’

  Silence reigned for a while and one could almost hear their brains ticking over to find a solution.

  ‘I know,’ said Brown eventually. ‘We can erect a cross in front of the barn on the highway at Trigger’s Marsh. It’s visible to all vehicles which travel on the motorway. It’s the perfect point where everyone will be able to see him.’

  ‘We can plant the cross there at night time. In fact we can crucify him at night. It’ll be pitch dark. There’s not street lighting out there. No one will see us. But, on the following morning, his body will be there for all to see... naked and exposed.’

  ‘What if he’s not dead by then?’ asked Hamilton nervously. ‘The Romans used to crucify people in the morning so that the heat of the sun and lack of water would finish them off by the evening. How are we going to deal with our adversary if we crucify him by night? I’m telling you one thing, I’m not going to be the one to murder him!’ He was already beginning to regret his participation in the exercise. The last thing he wanted was for any one of them to have to kill the man themselves. He could no more envisage himself thrusting a knife into Warrior’s ribs than running the marathon. Therefore the man had to die by natural causes, albeit being crucified to a cross... unless of course the other two had different ideas.

  ‘Don’t worry!’ assured Reilly encouragingly. ‘Once we whip off hi
s clothes and leave him out there all night exposed to the elements, he’ll die of hypothermia. It’s freezing out there at night and the wind always blows a gale there.’

  ‘But what if he doesn’t die and recognises us... all of us?’ questioned Brown as a horrid thought ran through his mind that they would all be found and arrested for attempted murder.

  ‘We can wear woollen masks,’ declared Reilly confidently, becoming slightly irritated at his colleague’s negative attitude. Although he had previously spoken out strongly against violent action, he was now all for it. His attitude had changed from one of apathy to one of efficiency in the light of the intended assassination. He abhorred the half-witted intentions shown by the other two men and was determined to force the issue if necessary. Now that they were committed to assassinate their adversary, the deed had to be carried out like a military operation.

  ‘What if that woman turns up again... the one who appeared on the television?’ continued Brown becoming even more concerned now that their plan was coming together. ‘The one who set fire to that television presenter.’

  Hamilton pulled a wry face and a frown wrinkled the skin on his forehead. ‘Scream out and run like the Devil at the first sight of her... that’s what I would do. But I tell you she was an illusion to trick the public into believing she was a Goddess.’

  ‘It’s all very well for you,’ complained the photographer, ‘but I can’t run as fast as you!’

  ‘She won’t turn up,’ said Reilly. ‘As David said, she was a magician’s trick. We’re going to be out them in front of the old barn at Trigger’s Marsh. I can’t see her turning up there.’

  ‘Are you sure Trigger Marsh is the right place?’ asked Hamilton, trying to think of a more suitable location.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ retorted Reilly. ‘We can do whatever we like by torchlight. I’ll go there and plant the cross before it turns dark. It just means screwing two blocks of wood together, digging a deep hole, and planting it in there. We can use some cement to make sure that it can support his body if you wish. The whole thing will take less than half an hour to set up.’