Ariston was stunned at the sight. Unable to speak, his voice caught in his throat, he approached her. Her soft smile of welcome urged him on. “Join me,” she said as she turned to his bed, reclining on it, her hand still extended in invitation.
Mustafa was good at his word. He sold several of the stones and traded several of the smaller for silks and men for a caravan. The caravan set out one day. Unknown to all, except Mustafa, Ariston had slipped from the city and rode along the route, half a day ahead of the caravan.
On the third day, in the steep canyons, Ariston sensed a trap. He rode on, a lone armed rider would not be worth attacking to betray the presence of the trap. Ariston turned aside and rode up into the hills.
Leaving his horse tethered in a draw, he scuttled among the rocks like a lizard, just below the rim of the canyon. He saw men on the other side now, watching the canyon bottom. He knew that there must be men on his side as well, and they would be near. Soundlessly, he searched. He found two robbers in a small depression. His knife slid into the neck of one as his sword chopped the other. Neither man had time to make a sound. He left them to the buzzards.
Knowing that the guards below could not scale the heights, the men had arrayed themselves along the canyon rim trying to cover the most area. That left each man alone. Ariston snuck up behind hills man after hills man, leaving each to drain his lifeblood into the stones.
He sensed the last group, those who would be the first to see the caravan. There were three, two watching ahead and one lazing on his back. Ariston jumped from a rock, his sword glittering in the sun. It struck down the first man. The second turned, his knife in hand. Ariston lunged, his sword gutting the man, who screamed in death’s agony.
The third man had scrambled from his rest, his sword drawn. “You will die, barbarian. The hills are alive with my tribesmen.”
“Not on this hill,” Ariston said his sword an arc of flashing steel. The swords clanged. From across the valley, men shouted wondering what was happening on the other side. Ariston pressed his enemy back with his whirling sword, never resting, always attacking; the hills man had never met a man like this, his great sword beating his talwar aside until it slipped in his sweaty hand. Amazed that a city man could fight like a man born and bred to it, the hills man didn’t even see the blade as it ended his life.
Ariston heard hoofs. He jumped to the top of the canyon. “It is a trap,” he shouted.
The caravan stopped, the guards riding to the front looking up at Ariston. They recognized him as Mustafa’s partner. What was he doing here?
“The canyon top over there is full of hills men. I need men to ride up behind the hill and attack them from behind.”
Across the canyon, the tribal chief saw his plans unraveling. It is one thing to attack an opponent who cannot strike back. It is another to face mounted men prepared for battle on even ground. He shouted across the canyon, calling to his men.
Ariston, standing on a great stone shouted back, “Did I not warn you? Do you not see my flag?," he shouted pointing. At the head of the armed men one carried a flag with the Goddess and her shining blue eyes in a field of blue. "Your men are all dead. Next time you attack my caravan I shall keep my promise to poison your wells, kill your goats, and despoil your daughters. Go and mourn your brothers for they are all walking the dark path to Hell this moment.”
The chieftain was incensed. But he could see a detachment of guards from the caravan riding for the hill behind him. If he tarried they would trap him between them and the canyon. He would have to stand and fight a superior armed force. He looked across the canyon at the barbarian standing so proudly, knowing there was no way down and back up with armed men chasing. He shouted to his men to run. They set off following the stony paths too steep and narrow for horses.
The tribesmen would return the next day to collect their brothers and mourn. The hill tribes had laughed at the warning of the city man. What did he know of the hills? They would show him what hills were. The laughter died and was replaced by the wailing of the women and fear. Some men would seek out a lion as enemy, but most were wise enough to know the sheep was much easier prey and provided good meat. The tribes consulted and the decision was made to avoid this new lion protected by the Goddess.
Ariston had returned to Bashram. Mustafa was the only man to know the story, for a while. When the caravan returned some months later, undisturbed along the whole trail, the story quickly spread. None would chance the anger of the great fighting barbarian now. His legend ran before him.
When Ariston returned from his trip into the hills, he was greeted by Alara and Jasmin. “Master, you need a bath and refreshments.”
He looked at himself, covered with dust and sweat, “Yes, you are right. Quick then, draw me a bath.”
The women rushed off, taking heated water from the kitchen and pouring it into the bath, mixing it with fresh clean water from the fountain. Jasmin rushed off and brought Ariston. The women undressed him and helped him into the bath. They exchanged a look, both excited by the lordly shape of Ariston, the muscles hard and flowing beneath his tanned skin, and his manhood, promising much even it its flaccid state.
Alara, young and girlish, helped him into the water as Jasmin went and fetched figs, dates, and sweet breads from the kitchen, along with a jug of wine. Ariston had settled in the water sighing with pleasure. Jasmin and Alara fed him bites of food and sips of wine. In between, they washed him with scented soaps. Ariston thought himself in Paradise.
After he was washed and fed, Jasmin and Alara dried him. Jasmin disappeared as Alara led him to his room and had him lie on his couch. She brought forth scented oils and began to rub them into his back, easing the tension in his muscles.
Ariston had begun to nod off from the pleasure when her hands started massaging his thighs. They dipped between his muscular thighs and her finger tips grazed his balls. Suddenly, he was no longer dozing. His cock began to grow. She continued massaging his legs and he wondered if it had been a mistake. His cock began to subside when Alara’s hands once again dipped deep between his thighs, ran down barely touching his butt and grazed his balls, almost too light to notice, but not too light. His cock immediately began expanding.
Now he was sure, well, almost sure, she was doing it on purpose. Then she was back to working on his legs, soothing his calves, then his feet. Again, his cock slowly subsided, the sensuous pleasure of touch carrying him away. She slowly worked her way up to his lower back, soothing him... once again her hands slid between his legs and touched his balls, tickling them briefly, then away. His cock reacted once again as Ariston moaned in frustrated pleasure.
In a soothing voice, Alara said, “Turn over, Master.”
Ariston turned, his cock at full staff. Seeming not to notice, Alara began pouring the oil on his chest and working at his muscles, rubbing and kneading. She massaged his arms, back to his chest and his stomach. Once again, the soothing pleasure had caused his cock to subside, but the cycles of hard and soft had left his balls charged like never before. Ariston, despite the way he seemed to be floating in pleasure, also was aware of the tension in his loins and knew the slightest touch could set him off.
Alara’s hands soothed the muscles in his thighs. Ariston’s eyes were shut, but behind them his whole being was concentrated in his loins, wondering… Her hands slid around his loins, and massaged his legs. Ariston felt the pulse in his cock as her hands neared, only to be disappointed as her hands went past. She gentled his muscles, her hands gliding over him. They slid up on the inside of his thighs. His attention was riveted on her hands… they paused, just short of his loins, then gently touched his balls and softly rubbed them, rolling them around. Instantly, Ariston’s cock rose to full strength, pointing straight up his belly.
Her hands left his balls once again and his eyes flashed open in disappointment. But what he saw was that Alara had thrown off her gown and was crawling over him, settling down on his loins. She held his stiff cock erect, ran her oiled hands up and down the staff once, and settled until his cock pierced her and filled her. Once she was fully down on him, her loins glued to his, she said, “Oh Master, you are wonderful.” Her hips rolled forward and back, rubbing her loins on his.
“Girl, if I knew you would like this, I’d have done this long ago,” he said.
“Jasmin will be envious,” she said smirking as her motions grew ever wilder. Her hips were moving up and down the length of his cock.
“Oh, Great Goddess,” he moaned. Then to Alara, “She’ll have no reason to be envious. I’ll see she is happy as well.”
“Master, make me happy, NOW!” Alara moaned.
He held the girl in one arm, turned until she was below him, her legs wrapping around his waist to hold his cock deep in her, then settled back onto the couch. “Now…” Ariston said smiling as he began thrusting into the girl.
His powerful body thrust again and again into the girl. She moaned in pleasure, the moans growing louder and faster, until the Goddess came to her. As she cried out in thanks, Ariston let his crest come as well. Another powerful thrust and he loosed his seed into the wailing girl, blast after blast of his seed filling her. His cock was awash in their juices as he fell onto the girl.
Her hands caressed his back. “Thank you, Master.”
“Thank the Goddess,” he said.
Ariston rolled to his side as the girl snuggled into his arms. They fell asleep in grateful thoughts to the goddess.
The news traveled among the merchants that the caravans protected by the barbarian were no longer being attacked. They looked at their own profits and their losses from the hill tribes. Many decided a little less profit would more than be made up by no longer taking losses. They began inviting Ariston to become a partner. His only duty was to allow the caravan to travel with his flag. For this, he was rewarded with a portion of the profits. Soon, all of the caravans were traveling under his banner. His wealth grew great.
The king’s advisors also noticed that the profits of the traders had risen as the king got his percentage as well. Happy with this new situation, the king granted a monopoly to Ariston and his partners. Ariston would have a percentage of all goods that traveled through Bashram. A monopoly given by the ruler was a guarantee of wealth since the state will use the laws to protect the monopolists.
However, the state of affairs was unstable, for the hill tribes had lost a source of revenue, attacking the caravans. Sulik Khan, headman, called his men together. “I am no coward.” He looked around at his men. They too, were proud men. “I will no longer bow to a city man. I will take what is mine. Who will join me?” All the men stood up. He smiled and nodded.
That day they traveled down to the caravan route and set their trap. It was too easy as the guards had come to believe they could not be attacked. They weren’t even wary of the possibility. They laughed and told stories, all in a group at the head of the caravan as they entered a narrow part of the trail.
As the guards came round a turn, a sudden shout rent the peaceful air. Howling men came tumbling from the rocks, their talwars sharp and flashing in the sun. The guards were cut down before they could draw their weapons.
The camel drivers turned and raced away. Several did escape, those at the end of the caravan. The rest were cut down. The hill men laughed as they led the captured booty away into the hills.
It took a month for the news to travel to Bashram. The merchants all gathered at Ariston’s house, worried that the old days were returning. The servants served them beer. Ariston stepped into the middle of the garden. “Friends, I have talked with the riders from the caravan. They know who attacked the caravan. It was followers of Sulik Khan. I have not heard of him. If any know of him, please tell me all you know.”
The buzz grew as men told what they knew of Sulik Khan, their panic causing them to grow louder and louder in their tales. Ariston smiled behind his passive face. He had to calm the merchants even as he was amused that something so little could cause them to panic.
It was all Ariston needed: where this tribe lived and how many men. He sent the merchants home and planned his revenge on Sulik Khan. He set out two days later, traveling by the back trails, for he knew the hills would be watching to see if the barbarian would come. If he did, they would warn Sulik Khan. If he didn’t, they would once again scourge the caravans. He could feel the hills watching for him.
But the eyes did not see the traveler who did not wish to be seen. It was hard travel and took long. It was almost a month before Ariston was looking down on the camp of Sulik Khan. He waited for the night. When the last camp fires had burned down to coals, Ariston slipped down from his perch, noiseless in the dark. He went to the goat herd and poured his revenge into the water. The goats did not notice. Ariston slipped away in the hills.
The next day, the children were sent out to milk the goats. They found half of the flock lying still. The children stared at the still goats, then as a group, they ran back to camp yelling and crying, for the goats were the main source of food to the hill tribes. The women heard the cries of the children and hurried out to meet them. When they heard the story, they yelled for the men and all ran to the pasture.
They could do nothing but stare at the devastation. The women began to cry. The men all looked to Sulik Khan. He knew the barbarian had done this, just as he had promised. “Do not drink the water. We must bury the goats. They are poisoned. Keep the ones still alive away from the water until we can find fresh.”
“What are we to do for food?” one of the women asked.
“We will hunt and we will take food from the caravans. It is a war now,” he rumbled.
Ariston was too far away to hear what was said. But he could see who directed the tribe. ‘That must be Sulik,’ he said to himself. He watched his foe. He saw them bury the goats. Then the men gathered and armed themselves. Sulik Khan ordered them off in groups of four, to hunt for food and to hunt for the barbarian who had caused the ruin. Ariston watched as Sulik himself set off, alone. Surprised, Ariston left his perch and plotted an interception.
Sulik Khan boiled in anger. He searched for signs of the barbarian in the field but found none. He went to the rocks, searching with his trained eye. Finally, he found a footprint that was not of his tribe. Just one, but it was enough. He looked up into the rocky hill above his camp. His prey was there. Sulik Khan feared no man. He set out up the hillside. He felt the flames of revenge in his veins, burning him into a raging anger. A man in a raging anger is his own enemy.
Ariston set himself into battle mode. He waited round a turn in the trail. His wilderness trained ears heard Sulik’s approach. Ariston stepped out into a small wide spot in the trail. Sulik came round the turn and stopped. The men appraised each other. Sulik saw that this devil barbarian was a big man but his talwar had found the measure of many men. Sulik had never lost in single combat.
“Raven-haired Devil, you have killed our goats and weakened my people,” he accused.
“Devil, you have stolen what is mine and killed my servants,” Ariston answered.
Sulik’s eyes narrowed, “You call me a thief.”
“I call you a coward and a thief,” Ariston answered, trying to incite the man into attacking.
With a roar, Sulik Khan threw himself into the attack, a ferocious grin on his face. “You will die now,” he roared.
His talwar was met by Ariston’s sword. The blades danced and flashed, parried and beat, the clashes ringing in the mountain air. Sulik, sure of his power, sought to beat down his opponent's blade. But the lighter talwar was thwarted by Ariston’s native strength along with his heavier sword. This but incited Sulik to greater effort. He began swinging with all his might, only to be blocked by Ariston. He returned to attack again and again.
Ariston recognized the over swing by his opponent. He watched, waited, and saw his opportunity. Sulik swung his talwar with all his might, but it was off center. Ariston seized his opportunity and instead of blocking the great swing, Ariston sidestepped, letting the swing carry Sulik Khan forward. The swing left him lurching forward, off balance, his talwar crashing into the rocky ground. Knowing his mistake, Sulik attempted to turn and raise his talwar, but it was too late. Ariston had turned, his sword a flash in the air as it struck home, his enemies head flying free as blood fountained into the air. The body dropped into the dust, lifeless.
Ariston took several breaths to calm himself. He went over and picked up the head of his enemy. The eyes fluttered then stilled. Sulik Khan had begun his walk on the dark trail to Hell.
The next morning the tribesmen woke to find the head of Sulik Khan on a stake driven into the ground in the center of the village. Ariston was already riding back on the caravan trail. Now he wanted the eyes to see him. 'Take warning,' his easy presence told the hill men. He rode unmolested back to Bashram to a hero’s welcome from the merchants.
Ariston celebrated his victory over the hill tribes for many days. Presents arrived daily from the merchants and even from the riders on the caravans for making the trip once again safe.
One night, lazing in his clear garden pool, he had been sipping a fine wine sent by a merchant when he saw the same blue eyes he had seen many months before in Kushakli. They hung in the night air surrounded by a blue fog. His body seemed afire with the remembrance of the voice he had heard that night and the desire it filled him with.
A delightful laugh echoed his garden as Ariston was filled with sweet emotions. “Ah, Ariston. You remember. Come,” the voice commanded.
The fog floated towards his room. Ariston quickly climbed from his pool, dried himself, then ran after the voice, that sweet instrument. As he flew from the garden into his room, he beheld a vision that no living man had e'er beheld. Standing in the middle of his room was a woman. No, not a woman, but the ideal of a woman of unutterable beauty, hair the color of flame, eyes of the purest deepest blue, skin unblemished of the purest alabaster. She was wearing a chiton of the brightest, purest white, tied with a belt of rubies, emeralds, diamonds, amethyst and chalcedony.
“Come Ariston, I will not bite,” she said smiling.
Ariston stumbled into his room, unable to see where his feet landed as he could not take his eyes from this vision before him.
Then he heard the voice again, coming from the apparition of beauty, “Come Ariston. You have worshipped me from afar with a singleness of purpose. You have served me bravely when need arose. I have watched you. Now, come receive your reward from the Goddess. The Goddess too, has desires.” She dropped the belt holding the chiton on the floor. The chiton followed quickly and the Goddess stood before a man in all her glory and perfection. The very light around glowed with an iridescence of the rainbow. Every curve, every line, every smallest thing was perfection. Full, womanly, beautifully-formed breasts, soft curves of her belly, and below, her womanhood nestled between her soft thighs. She stood, one leg forward, her hand extended to him, inviting.
Ariston was stunned at the sight. Unable to speak, his voice caught in his throat, he approached her. Her soft smile of welcome urged him on. “Join me,” she said as she turned to his bed, reclining on it, her hand still extended in invitation.
Ariston came to the bed but stopped, amazed at the perfection of the figure on his bed. Her smile was warm and inviting, not intimidating as he expected of a Goddess. His cock responded to the beauty and sexuality of her, leading him onto the bed.
She took his hand, guiding the bemused mortal between her parted legs. His cock found her opening, already wet and ready. He thrust and buried his shaft deep in her loins. “Yes,” she cried out.
Ariston remembered all he had been taught by the devotees of the goddess in how to please a woman. He hoped it would also please a Goddess. He thrust deep, then shallow; teasing, then satisfying. Fast and slow he thrust, always running his staff over her magic spot.
Ariston felt his body in a way he never had before. It was an unearthly joining, a merging of female and male principle. He felt her pleasure as he felt his own and guided by such impressions was able to bring her even more pleasure. He felt rather than sensed her climax building even as his own built. Ariston found his whole being subsumed into the experience until, as his very soul cried out, as man and goddess, male and female, they crested the highest peak. It was beyond an experience of the body. Ariston no longer even felt the bodies as he was touched by the divine essence of the Goddess. “There is your reward, Ariston.” She smiled a mysterious smile and was gone.
Exhausted, exhilarated, he fell into a deep sleep. In the morning he woke and glanced around his room. Could it have been a dream? Not quite able to really believe that the Goddess had visited him, Ariston rolled from his bed, stretched, and started to his garden for his morning ablutions. Draped across the floor of his room was her chiton. He picked it up and noticed it smelled of Her. Ariston buried his face in the chiton glorying in her fragrance. He looked Heavenward and said, “Thank you Most High Goddess for this remembrance. I shall cherish it beyond all else.”
He looked down and saw lying on the floor the gem encrusted belt. The gems sparkled in the slanting morning light. Ariston was stunned at the value of the belt, wondering if the Goddess had left it accidentally. He looked around, sure he would see Her waiting for the return of it. But there was nothing. His hand trembling, he picked up the belt and took it to his most hidden sanctuary, carefully locking it away.
Ariston’s mind was obsessed for the next several days, first with his fortune in sharing his love with the Goddess, and second, with the belt and chiton. How much were they worth? It was several weeks later, when Ariston was sitting at dinner with several of his partners discussing how much they had made since the hills men had been tamed, that Ariston realized he had more money than he could spend in his life.
He erupted in laughter. The men at the table stared suspiciously at him. They never forgot he was a barbarian, even if he was a valuable barbarian. “Sorry, partners. I was laughing because just this moment I have realized I have more wealth than I even knew existed in the world when I was young.”
Mustafa, his first partner, laughed, “You have come far, Barbarian.”
Ariston held up his glass as did Mustafa, smiles on their faces. The others joined in. “To the magical barbarian who has made all of us rich beyond our dreams.”
“Hear, hear,” they shouted, the tension drained away as they quaffed the beer.
Ariston’s gaze was looking away, far beyond the walls of the garden. “Tell me good partners. Who is the best sculptor in the land?”
“That would be Sukru. He does all of the work for the Great Temple,” Mustafa said. The others nodded.
“Good,” Ariston said. The others waited to see if they would be told why, but Ariston poured more beer and was quiet.
That afternoon, Ariston was at the door of the sculptor, Sukru. He was let in by a servant. The sculptor himself came in and greeted Ariston, “And who has not heard of the merchant, Ariston, he who tamed the hill tribes.”
Ariston did him courtesy, then unwrapped the package he was holding. It contained the chiton and the belt. “I would have you make a statue of the Goddess to wear these things. I will ask it be set up in Her temple so that all may see her beauty,” Ariston said.
Sukru came and looked closely at the chiton and belt. “I have never seen fabric such as this. And the belt…”
“They were worn by the Goddess,” Ariston said.
Sukru looked up and nodded. “It will need the finest whitest marble. It will be expensive.”
Ariston waved that away. “When can it be done?”
“Next year, at the harvest festival, if all goes well,” he said.
“Find out how much the stone will be, then send a man to my house,” Ariston said.
Sukru asked, “May I?” pointing to the chiton. Ariston nodded. Sukru held up the cloth, then handed it to Ariston, who held it up as the man carefully measured it. “Thank you for this commission.”
It was but one week until the harvest festival when a messenger from Sukru informed Ariston that it was ready. He sent back that he wished it delivered this very day. Several hours later, Sukru, along with several men brought the sculpture, wrapped in fronds for protection, into his garden. They set it by the fountain. Sukru dismissed the men.
Sukru smiled at Ariston. “I think you will like it.” He carefully unwrapped the statue. As the face appeared, Ariston gasped, for it was Her. “Beautiful, is she not?”
Ariston nodded, overcome with the beauty of the face.
Sukru tore off the rest of the wrapping. “I had started shaping the block when one night, a vision appeared to me. Her face was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and her body was perfection. The next day, I began cutting and the marble seemed to know how it should be. I tell you Ariston, the Goddess came to me through this stone.”
Ariston nodded, “It is Her.” He turned to the sculptor, “You have captured her for all to see. Your name will live as long as hers.”
Ariston brought out the chiton and belt. The men put the robe on the statue and tied it with the belt. They stood back and marveled. Ariston clapped Sukru on his shoulder. “Tomorrow, we will take this to the temple and your fame will be on the wind.”
That night, Ariston sat in his garden enraptured by the beauty of the stone. He knew that the goddess herself had inspired Sukru, the sculptor. There could be no other explanation for how it looked so like the Goddess.
As he gazed on the statue, a blue fog once again appeared in his garden, a light coming from within. A silvery laugh filled the air. “Ariston, I am well pleased with you. You have led an adventurous and hard life. It is time for your reward. Be at ease and live well. Come worship at my temple and you will always be welcome.” The light faded and the fog was gone.
Ariston did not sleep that night, instead sitting happily in the garden with the Goddess.
The next morning, Sukru returned with his cart and helpers. This time, they did not hide the Goddess. She stood proudly on the cart, carefully tied in. They set off, drawing stares as they headed to the Temple.
Soon, people were in line behind the cart, all enraptured by the beauty and majesty of the statue. They gaped at the belt, shining and glittering with precious stones. People called out to the Goddess, asking for her blessing. By the time they entered the Temple square, hundreds were following.
The Chief Priestess stood before the door of the temple. “Welcome Ariston and Sukru. The Goddess informed me to prepare for your visit.” She motioned to the other priests and priestesses who quickly carried the statue, reverently, inside. It was lifted into the center of the temple. As it was settled into its place, a shaft of light came from a window and lit her face in brilliant sunshine. All gasped at the portentous omen. “The Goddess is well pleased,” the Priestess intoned.
She led Ariston aside as people of the city came to see this miraculous sculpture and congratulate Sukru, whose fame did indeed fly upon the wind before him. Once aside from the crush of people, the Priestess told Ariston quietly. “The Goddess is pleased with you, noble Ariston. She has told me that you may worship in her temple as often as you wish and it will forever be free. She does not want your offering anymore. This,” she said pointing to the statue, “is the greatest offering ever made.”
Ariston smiled, “I accept the will of the Goddess. Tell me, Priestess, have you worshipped recently?”
A lewd smile on her face, the Priestess said, “Not recently enough. I remember well our time together. Come Ariston, come worship the Goddess with me.”
Ariston looked back at the statue and he seemed to see a gleam in Her eye just for him. He smiled as he followed the Priestess into her private rooms. And to think, he could worship beauty every day. He would thank the Goddess every day for the rest of his life.
From above, the Goddess smiled at her devotees. Ariston had been a good and loyal man. He would live out his life, rich and celebrated for his generosity, contented as daily he would worship with a beautiful woman. She waved her hand over the couple, unaware of Her presence. “Oh Mortals, enjoy this most wondrous gift of pleasure that I bring you and do not ever let anything keep you from sharing this with each other.” Ashtar smiled as she watched the couple bring each other to Heaven on Earth.
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