Attend me, O Gentles. It was a time when the People spoke but one language, a time before the Diaspora of the People, a time before speaking Sanskrit, Farsi, and Hittite separated the People. It was a time when magic still held sway, a time when Gods walked the earth and watched over their People, a time when the extraordinary might happen to any man if he was good enough with a sword. It was after the season of drenching rains and before the season of the blazing sun.
A lone rider crested the low hill and looked down. A small river ran through the wide shallow valley. A smaller stream cascaded from the hills opposite and running quickly across the grasslands, joined the river. At the juncture, a city had grown. The rider looked at his destination, Kushakli a great city of the Southern People.
He spurred his horse into a trot and rode for the city gate. As he neared, workers in the barley fields stopped to watch. He was riding a grey horse. It was a great beast of the Horse People but clearly he wasn’t of that tribe. The Horse People had long straight yellow hair and green eyes. The stranger had blazing blue eyes and hair the color of a raven. He was a strange wanderer, and therefore, not to be trusted. The folk watched him as he rode toward their city.
At the gate, the warden stopped him, “Stranger, what do you?”
“I am Ariston. I am a shaman of my people and have come in search of great power to cure. A sickness has come to my people. We have sacrificed to our Gods but still our children waste away. I have come searching for healing for my people,” Ariston finished. He shifted on the great beast’s back, sore from many days of riding.
The warden eyed the horse. “That is a great horse. I have not seen any except the Horse People ride such a beast.”
“It was given me by a Shaman of the Horse People. He had no skill to cure the wasting sickness of our children. He cast a spell. In the smoke he read a message from the gods; he should give me this beast and that I should ride south to find the cure. I come at the behest of the gods.”
Ariston looked down at the horse, smiling inwardly as he remembered how he actually obtained the beast. He had been gambling at an inn of the Horse People. His own dice had been weighted to roll as he knew they would. Ariston toyed with one of the men letting him win a little to build his confidence. The greedy horse man had gambled his daughter believing that he would win all. But he lost all.
The poor wretch had begged Ariston not to despoil his daughter even though it was now his right. She was betrothed to a clan chief’s son, a great match for his family, which would bring him prestige and wealth in cattle. Ariston had accepted his few coppers, a small bracelet of no great value, and a horse in exchange for his promise to leave the daughter untouched. Little did the poor man know that Ariston had no desire for his daughter. She had no meat on her bones. What man wants a skinny woman? All men desired a woman with substance; a woman who could work and bear children. There is beauty in utility.
The gate warden looked him over once again. Finally, he nodded. “I hope you find the power to cure your children, but I think you’ll not find it here. Our own children sometimes acquire the wasting sickness. I know of no cure. Perhaps you should go further south,” he suggested pointedly.
Ariston nodded, “I fear you may be right. I am tired from long riding which is unaccustomed to me. Perhaps there is an Inn where I might rest?”
The warden paused then finally said, “Follow the main way. At the Temple Square take the second street to the left. You will see the Inn of the Boar. That is where the caravaners lodge when they are in the city. They will have lodging for you and fodder for your mount.”
“May all Gods protect you,” Ariston said as he spurred his horse through the gate. Eyes followed him as he cantered past them. At the Temple Square he paused, glanced at the Temples, then spurred his horse down the street of the Inn.
Ariston found the Inn, a simple building with a stable next door. He left his horse with the stable boy and entered the Inn. There were only a few souls in the place. Behind the bar stood a bald, squat, and very ugly man. He looked Ariston up and down and reached his conclusion. “You need a room, stranger?”
“Yes,” Ariston answered.
“Good. Are the rest of your companions joining you?” he asked.
“I am alone.”
“Too bad. I have more than enough rooms at the moment. I can give you a beautiful room in the back for three coppers a day,” he said lavishly.
Ariston smiled crookedly at the Inn keeper. “I’ll take an average room and offer one copper a day.”
“Why Gentle Sir. That is robbery,” he blustered.
Ariston put his hand on the hilt of the sword hanging at his belt and responded, “Good Sir, I agree. One copper a day for a flee-infested bed is robbery. I’ll expect that to include dinner as well. But I am tired and loath to haggle. One copper.”
The Innkeeper’s eyes glanced at his hand resting on the pommel and swallowed. “Ah yes. It is true that I am not very busy at the moment. Of course I would be glad to have you as a guest at my hearth. Yes, it is done. One copper a day.” One of the locals laughed and then chopped off the laugh as the Innkeeper glared his way. “And may one inquire how long you will be with us?”
“Only a day or so. I have come to consult with the wise men of Kushakli about a cure for the children of my people. If I can find no cure I must ride on.”
“A noble cause,” the Innkeeper said with a slight smile. Ariston glared at him. He returned the glare with a knowing smile. “Yes, a noble cause. We must be sure you get what you have come for, heh?”
“The room?” Ariston reminded.
The Innkeeper came from behind the bar and led Ariston down a dark narrow hall. At the rear of the Inn he opened a small door. Ariston stepped through. The room was barren except for a pallet covered with soft straw under a woolen blanket. After so many nights on the hard cold ground it looked like paradise itself to Ariston. There was also a small table with two rickety chairs.
“Fit for a king,” said Ariston.
“Maybe I should ask three coppers then,” said the Innkeeper.
“Maybe I should sleep in the stable. It would probably be better,” said Ariston.
The Innkeeper laughed, “Two coppers for that. But we have made a bargain and I am loath to break my bond.” He held out his hand and Ariston deposited a copper coin.
“Dinner?” Ariston asked.
“At mid-day,” said the Innkeeper. “Which was hours ago. But I have a bit left if you don’t mind.”
“I could eat it raw.” Ariston threw down his bedroll and followed the Innkeeper back to the main room. The ugly troll of a man put parts of a greasy overcooked bird in front of Ariston along with stewed roots and a bowl of bitter barley beer to wash it down. It tasted delicious.
After his repast, Ariston walked to the Temple Square. He came to the Temple of Ashtar, Goddess of Love, Patroness of Prostitutes, Queen of Pleasure and the most beloved of the gods by disciples of the pleasures of the flesh. The temple was not very impressive. Shaped as a ziggurat, it rose only a few stories. Wooden, instead of strong brick, it was already decaying.
As Ariston stepped over the threshold a priestess appeared. “You are a stranger?”
Ariston skidded to a halt. “Yes. I have come south seeking wisdom. I wish to invoke the help of the Goddess.”
The priestess paused, then said, “Indeed, a noble wish. But the Goddess requires a sacrifice. Have you brought such?”
“No, Reverend One. What would the Goddess desire?” Ariston asked.
The priestess scolded, “Of course the gift to the Goddess should be worthy of her Majesty. Many bring an ox or a goat. Even the poor bring a cock or hen to invoke her good will.”
Ariston eyed the priestess through lidded eyes as he bowed. The priestess had a gaunt and hungry look. Ariston guessed that a bird would be as welcome as anything and much less expensive. “Where is the market, Oh Reverend One?”
The priestess, the hunger now open on her face, directed Ariston to the market. He was back in a nonce carrying a squawking pullet. This time the priestess invited Ariston into the temple. Ariston handed over the bird and followed the priestess toward the center of the temple.
Ariston’s eyes were relentless in appraising the temple furnishings. A few bare iron sconces held the flickering lamps. The statue of the Goddess was terra cotta, painted with garish colors. Murals of the Sacred Prostitute, painted straight onto the wood walls, were the only decoration in the temple. There was no silver or gold to be seen.
The priestess intoned the words of blessing, imploring the Goddess to favor the supplicant, Ariston. The priestess held up the bird for the blessing of the Goddess. With a quick twist she separated the head and holding the bird tightly poured the blood into the offering bowl at the foot of the Goddess. Ariston was sure the bird would be roasting on a spit shortly.
Ariston cast one more glance around the temple looking for any suitable items that might wish to free themselves and accompany him when he left the city. His eyes settled on the Goddess. Her face seemed to be glowing in the dim air. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rising. He had the distinct impression that the eyes of the statue were alive and looking at him. The very room seemed to buzz. He felt an impulse to run but his boots seemed stuck to the floor.
The priestess turned, breaking the spell, and Ariston let out a sigh as he began breathing again. The priestess, happy now, intoned the ceremonial words, “Ariston. Your gift to the Goddess has been blessed and accepted. The Goddess will bless you with love.”
Ariston’s knees were weak and fearing they might give out under him he bleated out, “Thank you, yes. May the Goddess protect you.” He turned and wobbled from the temple. In the late afternoon sun, he felt reinvigorated. He shook his head to clear it. “It was just the dark,” he mumbled to himself not really sure if he believed it himself. 'The Goddess would have no reason to take an interest in me,' he thought.
His gaze next turned to the Temple of Djues, King of the Gods. His strength returned quickly in the clear sunny air of the plaza. The main temple was similar in form to Ashtar’s, but larger. Its simple wooden structure was unadorned and slightly shabby. The door to the temple was half a man’s height again larger than the door to Ashtar’s temple and five men wide. He was able to stand outside and see the interior without having to pass the priest-attendant guarding the door. The interior looked as poor. The priest looked as hungry. Where is the wealth that should be in the great city? Do not the people revere their gods?
Perplexed, Ariston wandered back to the inn. Taking a corner table in the inn he ordered a beer from the bar maid. When she brought the tankard she asked, “Will there be anything else?” and leant forward so that he could see proof of her abundant charms.
Ariston nearly spit out his beer. He paused holding her eye with his and responded, “Nothing at the moment. But perhaps later.”
“Do but mention my name, Sussi, and I will come to thy beck and call,” she said.
“Sussi,” he said. “Yes, I think there might be something later.”
She turned and swayed sultrily back to the bar. The innkeeper glared her way. When she got to the bar he leaned over and started to whisper furiously. Occasionally his voice rose enough for Ariston to hear. “My daughter… tramp… spectacle… your Mother…” Through it all the girl looked bored as if hearing the same words for the hundredth time.
Slowly, the inn filled with locals wishing to stuff their bellies with beer before stumbling home for the night. Ariston listened, unobtrusively, to the conversations around him. Nursing his second tankard, Ariston leaned over his table and said to a tipsy guest at another table. “Ho, good gentle. I am a stranger to Kushakli.”
Interrupting, the man bellowed, “Ah yes. I can shee you are. What do you in Kuss… Kushakli?” He upended his tankard and poured as much beer into his beard as he did into his mouth.
His tablemates laughed at the beer pouring down his chest and one slapped the table, “Don’t waste it you fool. You pour enough beer down your jerkin to get another man drunk.”
Slamming the tankard on the table, “I can out drink any man in Kusssh… Kissha… Damn, in this city.”
Ariston smiling only slightly, said, “I can see you are a man who can hold his drink. Today, I paid homage to the Goddess, Ashtar. I was surprised at the state of the temple. Do your people not respect the Goddess?”
“Of course. I myself have coupled with many women in worshipping the Goddess. Why I could do ten women in one night if I had a mind to.” His tablemates rolled their eyes as smiles played across their faces.
Ariston said, “I can see I have met a man of worth. So tell me gentle sir, why are the temples is such state? I was almost offended for the Goddess at the lack of finery to celebrate her gifts to man. Is there no reverence to show how much we men receive from the Divine Prostitute?”
The conversation quickly died at the surrounding tables. One of the men, not yet carried away by the ale leant forward and said under his breath, “Hush. Such talk bodes poorly for men. Stranger, here in Kushakli are many devout men who worship the gods. But here in Kushakli, the nobles keep the wealth. Donations to the temples seem to wind up in their hands. And anyone who expresses their zeal to defend the gods too loudly winds up in the copper mines, endlessly digging, until they are too weak. Then they are tossed on the dross and buried with it. Be careful, good sir.” The man downed his tankard, stood, and made his way quickly from the inn.
Ariston leaned back in his chair and was about to speak when a cold breath seemed to caress his neck. The hairs on his neck stood on end. His back was to the wall and he knew nothing was behind him, unless it was a trap. He turned, but it was a plain mud brick wall. Settling in his chair, he again decided to speak when another draft hit him. Now the hair all over his body seemed to stand on end. He looked up, and in the smoking rafters, he saw two blazing blue eyes staring at him, smiling at him, almost seeming to laugh at him.
He was gaping at the ceiling when Sussi bumped the table. It broke the spell and Ariston looked at the serving wench. “Will there be anything else?” she asked in a low sexy voice.
Shaking his head to clear it, Ariston glanced up again. He saw a cat appear from the smoky corner of the room and walk along one of the rafters. The cat stared down at him, its green eyes flashing in the dark. Green? He would have sworn the eyes he saw were blue. It must have been the cat’s eyes he saw in the gloom. His superstitious mind in turmoil, he pondered; the business of the gods is a dangerous affair for a man to interpose himself into.
Sussi again bumped the table. “Pardon,” he said. “I was thinking about the conversation.”
“Think not on the gods. They have their own destinies. Think you on the gifts of the gods to us. Especially the Goddess. She showers us with fine gifts, does she not?” Sussi leant forward to show Ariston her fine gifts.
“Yes, my girl. You are right. This is the greatest gift. Perhaps I will be thirsty in a nonce, but I shall have retired. How would I slake my thirst when I am alone in my cell?” Ariston smiled at Sussi.
She returned the smile, “Good stranger. A man should not go thirsty in a land of plenty. Be assured of that. One gift should be returned with a gift of equal value. This is the way of the Goddess.”
Ariston reached into his pouch and flipped a small gold coin on the table. “For tonight... I hope this will cover my bill.”
She scooped up the coin and it disappeared. “Oh yes. I am sure the Goddess shall grant your wishes this eve.”
Ariston stood and wandered back to his room. He sat in the semi-dark waiting, faint shadows cast by the moonlight pouring in through the window. The room was silvery in the moonlight. A few minutes later the door opened quietly and a shadow slipped in. “Stranger?”
“Is it the Goddess?” he asked.
A tinkling laugh was followed by, “Yes, the Goddess has come.”
Ariston stood, the shaft of light from the window highlighted him against the dark and the girl swept into his arms. He wrapped her in his arms and they kissed, softly at first, then more passionately.
Her fingers found the leather laces of his jerkin and began undoing them. He helped her, then quickly peeled out of his breeches and finished by throwing his boots into a corner. While he was undressing Sussi had skinned her dress off and stepped from her sandals. They melted back into each other's arms but now hot skin was pressed to hot skin. His manhood, rampant, pressed against her belly. She ground her pudenda against it.
Sussi pulled him with her as she lay on his pallet. He covered her and her legs wrapped round, pulling him to her. He kissed her passionately. Having traveled long, his desire was great. His manhood was pressed to her mount, his hips rolling back and forth rubbing over her damp portal. Their breathing turned ragged. He pulled his hips back, his manhood sliding down to find her opening. Nestling into her, she moaned from the sensation. A push and they were joined in the sacred dance of Ashtar.
Ariston was soon scaling the heights of passion and Sussi was moaning from his vigorous thrusts. The pallet creaked under them as their motions became more heated. He could feel her molten walls grasping at his manhood, milking it like a calf suckles at its mother’s teat. Her fingers dug into his back urging him on, her hips surged up to meet his hips. He felt the onset of climax and, as he had been taught, released his mind to experience this moment of oneness with the gods. As he emptied himself into Sussi the beatific peace of the Goddess filled his soul. A few last shudders and he collapsed. He felt Sussi’s womanliness continue to pulse around him as he slowly shrank.
Ariston returned to earth and consciousness of the present. ‘All Gods,’ he thought. ‘This girl is an experienced and superb devotee of the Goddess. She had more than earned her coin this eve.’
Ariston rolled to his side, “Thank you, girl. You have certainly slaked my thirst.”
She laughed and said, “You had a great thirst, Sir. I was most happy to slake it.” She stood up and collected her dress from the floor donning it before turning back to him. “If you find yourself thirsty again, Stranger, do but crook your finger and I will come.” She quietly opened the door and glanced down the hall before disappearing.
After Sussi left, Ariston watched the moonlight slowly change on the wall of his cell. Smiling in the soft light of the moon, Ariston lazed in contentment. 'Some vixen she is,' he thought. He lay with his arms under his head basking in the lassitude and peace Ashtar grants her worshippers. 'Oh Greatest of Goddesses, thank you for the wonderful gift you give,' he thought. The smile continued on his face.
He waited for the moon to set, watching the light slowly disappear from the window. Once the moon had fallen below the rim of the earth, Ariston roused himself and quickly dressed. Instead of boots he removed two soft leather sandals from his pack. Soundlessly, he slipped from his cell and disappeared through the stable. Keeping to the deepest shadows, his ears alert to the sounds of the night, Ariston moved among the narrow alleys of the city always headed towards the west.
He reached a great avenue which separated the main city from the palace. Crouching in the last of the shadows he looked for sign of watchers; there were none. Where were the palace guards? Did they not make rounds? He waited but no sounds came to him. Stealthily, he crossed the avenue and approached the wall of the palace. It was a bare rough rock and over two man’s height. Ariston, accustomed to the scaling of rocky cliffs of his homeland, quickly slithered up the wall. He lay still on the top listening for the sounds of guards. Again it was silent.
Dropping off the wall into a garden, Ariston pulled his sword from its sheath and made his way along a path in the garden. He found a well traveled path through the garden and started to follow it. Right before a bend in the path, he heard the shuffle of feet and the creak of metal. Looking around quickly, he spotted a bush and jumped behind it.
A guard rounded the bend, lazily walking in the night. He looked neither right nor left as he followed the path. Too many nights had he done these rounds for him to be wary. He walked past Ariston, then stopped. Ariston readied his sword thinking the guard had heard a noise or sensed his presence. The guard stretched lazily before continuing on.
When the guard was out of sight, Ariston exhaled deeply. 'Too close,' he thought. He waited a moment longer then continued down the path. It took him toward an outlying arm of the main building. He saw a light burning in one room. Cautious but also curious as to why someone would be up so late, he approached the window which was open to let in the cooling night air.
A single lamp was burning on a table by an opulent bed. There was no one in the room. Sheathing his blade, Ariston heaved himself through the window and dropped lightly to the carpeted floor. Just then, a young woman came from behind a screen. She had on only the sheerest of nightdress. She stopped, startled by the presence of an intruder in her room. She was mystified but not particularly frightened. Palace life had spared her confrontations with the seamy side of life. Imperiously, she asked, “What are you doing in my room?”
Ariston was stunned by the sudden appearance of the lovely girl. She looked fourteen summers in age, young and unsullied, her midnight hair long, lustrous, and straight, falling down her back. He could see her curves through the diaphanous material of her nightdress. She was budding into womanhood, just ready to marry. He said the first thing that popped into his rattled mind, “Ashtar sent me.”
The girl’s eyes widened and she gasped, “How quickly the Goddess answers.” Ariston looked at her questioningly. She continued, “I was just praying to the Goddess to send me someone to teach me the arts of love. But why you, a stranger?”
An accomplished liar, or story teller if you prefer, since in those days they were the same as all of our oldest religious tales testify, the difference between tale and truth unimportant, all of the bizarre events of the last day percolated in his mind and quickly coalesced into a story. “Today I made sacrifice to the Goddess. She appeared to me in the smoke of the temple and said she had a duty for me. I was to return to my Inn and wait. Then in the middle of the night I was awakened by a cool wind that blew from the ceiling of my cell. I awakened, and the most radiant eyes stared at me from the heavens. They were a heavenly blue and seemed to be half hidden by smoke and yet there was no smoke in the room. A voice said, ‘To the Palace. Now!’ I followed those shining eyes to this very window. They disappeared into the flame of your lamp. I did what the Goddess wished.” It was a story without a shred of truth, but a wonderful story none the less, one that with a bit of embellishment would have earned Ariston free drinks at any inn.
The girl’s eyes continued to widen as he related his story. She clasped her hands over her chest. As he finished, she said, “You are an instrument of the Goddess. Oh, how wonderful. Even a Princess may feel the desires of Ashtar.”
“A princess?” he asked. Ariston realized that he had an opportunity that he might never have again; to bed a princess and a virgin at that. He set himself to the task of convincing the girl that Ashtar really had sent him.
“Yes. Do you not know me?”
“As you say, I am a stranger to your city,” he answered.
“Oh yes. But why would the Goddess send a stranger?” she asked.
“Princess…”
“Yasminde,” she said.
“Princess Yasminde,” he started. “It seems a good and wise thing that the Goddess has arranged it so. As a stranger I will leave this city soon. And with me, goes any scandal. The Goddess wishes for you to taste the fruits of love but to leave no tongues to wag the tale about the city. You may take a vial of Ram’s blood to your wedding bed and none will be the wiser.”
Yasminde laughed, “I have heard tales of brides taking the blood of the wedding sacrifice as a token. But the token was lost in the night, the blood being used to stain their marital bed as proof of their lost virginity. But men are not to know of this; only women.”
Ariston laughed with her, “Oh no, Princess. Men are wise to the guile of women, even as we allow ourselves to be gulled. It is a wise man who allows his woman to tell her tales and never asks for proof so that she may be happy.”
Her face turned serious. “Stranger, servant of the Goddess, what am I to do?”
“First, look not so baleful. The Goddess wishes only pleasure in her servants,” he said gently.
Her face brightened, “But I am affright and I do not know what this night will bring. But I will trust the Goddess that sent you to me.”
“Come love, come to the bed,” he said as he started to pull his clothes off. Yasminde came to the bed, lying on it and watching intently as he stripped his clothes from his travel hardened body. His muscles rippled as he drew his garb from him. Finally, his breeches were removed. His manhood stood proudly erect. Her eyes were cast upon it and would not move, as metal is drawn to a lodestone and caught in the mysterious web of the lodestone’s power.
Yasminde shivered in the cool air blowing in through the window. He bent his head and kissed around her small breasts before taking one breast into his mouth and sucking her hardening nipple in as he lashed it with his tongue. This time, her shivers were from the pleasure of his touch.
Ariston took his time, loving her breasts with his mouth and tongue. Yasminde was breathing deeply now. Ariston placed his hand between her legs, parting them, before stroking his fingers along her womanly cleft. The air was quickly suffused with her scent. Her hips moved to meet his pleasurable fingers which were soon coated with her arousal. ‘She is ready,’ Ariston said to himself.
He lifted himself and settled between her legs. Placing his manshaft at the unsullied entrance to her grotto, he said, “Sweet Princess, pray to the Goddess for the pleasure only she can bring.” His hips were moving slightly, pressing himself against her, rubbing up and down her cleft before returning to her unbreached opening. His shaft was soon awash in her arousal. He pushed and lanced into her, breaking the barrier of her womanhood.
Yasminde cried out at the sudden pressure and the prick of pain. Ariston clamped his mouth to hers afraid the noise would bring a servant. He held himself motionless, listening. But no sounds came except the breathing of the princess below him.
“Quiet, little dove, or we shall be discovered,” he said.
“Forgive,” she said. “I was oer’whelmed for a nonce. It is a thing not to be known until experienced.” She was pushing up against him now. He sank deeper into her as she pushed against him. “Ayie,” she said. “That feels so 'mazing. I can feel every smallest motion.”
Ariston withdrew a bit then pushed forward, burying his manhood completely in Yasminde. “Oh,” she gasped as Ariston withdrew and plunged into her again. His passion so recently slaked by the serving wench at the Inn, Ariston felt no great hurry in his lovemaking. He settled into a slow and gentle rocking motion. He used the slow and deep thrusts taught him by the Priestess of Ashtar. Yasminde moved with his thrusts, accepting him deeply within her body. Her eyes closed and her breathing became ragged as Ariston continued his deliberate stroking of his manhood into her. He felt her rising toward the experience of the Goddess and quickened his thrusts as she approached her peak.
“Feel the Goddess,” he whispered into her ear. “She is come.” He pounded now into her body which responded to every motion with a thrust of its own. Their pudendae mashed together making slapping noises in the quiet of the room.
Yasminde threw her head back and cried, “Oh Ashtar,” as she crested her peak. Ariston felt her spasm and released his essences, emptying himself into the young princess. He slowed, and stopped as they both returned to the earthly plane. Ariston held her tightly as their breathing slowed. Her eyes fluttered open, “Oh Stranger. You have done it. I met the Goddess. She is great.”
He leant down and kissed her brow. “Worship her mightily, Princess. The Goddess will always repay that worship with pleasure.”
She looked toward a small altar she had set in the corner. “Thank you great Goddess for sending this servant of yours.”
They lay together basking in the afterglow of sated love caressing each other. Yasminde drifted off after awhile and Ariston lay still enjoying the beautiful young woman in his arms.
The dawn drew nigh and Ariston heard the first calls of birds in the still air. He slipped from the bed as Yasminde stretched and awoke.
“I must go, Princess. The Sun Bearers chariot will soon leap from behind the mountains,” he said.
“Will you return, Stranger?” she asked.
“Ask the Goddess. I serve Her,” he said.
“Yes. I must pray again,” she said as she fell back on the bed a smile playing on her face. “Most Great Goddess, bless your daughter again.”
“Princess,” he said quietly. She leaned on her elbow and looked his way. “The Goddess is most unhappy with the state of her Temple. It does not befit such a Goddess. Do you have a gift that I may take? A gift worthy of this eve?”
Yasminde looked thoughtful for a moment, then bounced from her bed. She rushed over to a chest made of the finest inlaid woods, throwing it open and dragging silks and other valuables from its depths. “Here it is,” she cried as she pulled a beaten silver necklace, more valuable than gold, from the chest. She held it up, the lapis lazuli and amethyst which adorned the necklace, sparkling in the light from the lamp.
Holding it up, she came to Ariston. “This was a gift from the nobles when I became a woman. This eve you, at the behest of the Goddess, have made me a woman. Take it to the Goddess.”
She laid it in Ariston’s hand. He looked with unbelieving eyes at the riches in his hand. Just one of the jewels being worth more than a peasant would make in his entire life. The necklace was encrusted with such jewels. Ariston was rich beyond his wildest dreams. He could become a gentleman with such wealth. He could buy a house and servants, and laze in luxury for the rest of his life.
“Princess, the Goddess thanks you. I must fly before I bring ruin to you.” He tucked the necklace into his jerkin and went to the window. Half way through the window he stopped and turned his head back. Yasminde was standing, a look of longing on her face, a look which almost overcame his fear of being caught. For a moment he wished to stay. A noise from inside the palace was enough to cause him to hurl himself out the window. He disappeared into the dark.
He wended his way through the dark streets. As he passed the Temple Square he felt eyes on him, unseen eyes. Drawn to the temple of the Goddess he entered. A single lamp burned the last of the night’s oil casting gloomy shadows across the altar. Ariston felt his feet moving of their own accord and he was soon before the statue. He knelt before the Goddess then reached into his jerkin and drew out the necklace. It represented more wealth than ever his imagination could have dreamed. He wanted to jerk his hand back and flee. Instead, his hand moved forward.
A voice, a sensual feminine voice suddenly spoke, “Mortal, I do not need your wealth. You pleased me with your speech at the inn. Go with my blessing.”
When the voice spoke, Ariston prostrated himself before the Goddess expecting he knew not what. There was silence. He looked up, but it seemed just a clay statue. Unsure, he rose to his knees. He picked up the necklace. For a fleeting moment he sensed more than saw the Goddess smile, then the most feminine and alluring laugh he had ever heard echoed in the temple. He was filled with longing at the shivering sound and sheer presence of that voice. The statue now seemed alive with that presence. His heart was filled with longing. He was about to crawl toward the statue when a noise from within the Temple startled him back to consciousness of the world. Frightened of discovery, he stuffed the necklace back into his jerkin and sped from the Temple.
Ariston ran the entire way back to the inn. At the inn, he grabbed his pack, and quickly and quietly made his way to the stable. His horse whinnied as he entered the stable. Quieting the great beast, he threw his saddle on the broad back of the stallion. Mounted, he made his way toward the gate.
He trotted past the palace just as dawn was breaking. Ariston paused and thought of the beautiful Yasminde. What else could he get in return for spending the night making love to her? But then the voice filled his mind. How can a mortal ever compare with that voice? He knew that he would be in love with that voice till he dropped the mortal coil. He shook his head and spurred his horse towards the South Gate arriving as the gate was opening to the day.
Once outside the walls, Ariston continued south toward the City Where the Two Rivers Meet, the richest city in the world, Bashram. There the people worship the Goddess completely. For a small donation, the priestesses of the temple welcome all worshippers in the way of the Goddess of Corporeal Love. Every woman of the city was required to spend one day each year in the temple, welcoming men that enter and worshipping the Goddess as she should be worshipped, with legs spread and a man between them, crying out her joy for the gifts of the Goddess. A man could grow to appreciate this type of worship. And maybe, just maybe, he would find the lovely bearer of that voice. Feeling the necklace against his skin, he thought of the many donations to the Goddess it contained. Yes, he would worship the Goddess with a fervor. He was gone before the sun was fully above the horizon.
As he crested the last hill, he looked over his shoulder. The city lay quiet in the still morning light. A few fires were sending up smoke into the morning air. He turned his horse, and leaving the city in his wake, trotted over the hill, a smile on his lips.
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