The Balance Ch. 19-21

Turning into a wide street that led off the market, they soon found themselves in front of one of the temples to the Deity that were scattered about the city. Paul had to admit it was impressive. No cold, clammy, stone cave of a building, like so many churches in Scotland were. Not trying to soar to heaven to challenge or impress an all-powerful god, this temple was low and had long clean lines that blended with the other buildings of the city. Passing indoors, Paul was struck by its simplicity. This was not a building that sought to overawe its worshipers, but rather to comfort them. Turning his head to admire the white marble of the entranceway, he saw the spy again, leaning against a building across the street. He ground his teeth, then hurried after Ariana, who had continued inside.

She turned to him, smiling with happiness. "Nothing has changed," she said. "I served here for several months as a novice when I was at court when I was just a girl. I would have happily stayed here longer, but I was called back by my fa...by the High Priest."

"Really?" said Paul distractedly. He hoped that Ariana would find this priestess she was looking for soon. He wanted a few free moments to speak with Sean and Kris about the spy. "Tell me," he said, casting about for a topic, "which aspect of your deity is worshiped here?" He knew from their talks that all temples in the capital were dedicated to one avatar of the Deity, although in the smaller towns and villages, one temple would serve all aspects in turn.

The high temple where Abiron and Ariana served, of course, served no aspects, but the Deity as a whole.

"Can you not see the flame, Brother Paul?" Ariana asked, pointing toward the altar. On a pedestal, a fire burned in shallow depression. "This temple serves the Wanton."

Even as she spoke, a novice came up to them. "Well, met, my lady. How may I serve you?"

Turning to face their greeter, Ariana gave a cry of happy surprise. "Adelpha! How good to see you. I am happy to see you made it back safely." Turning to Paul she explained, "Adelpha was the one who brought the king's summons to us these several weeks past. I had been worried since I had not heard of her return." Paul nodded, bored, wanting Ariana to be gone so he could confer with the guards. Turning back to the novice she told her of her need to see Priestess Pathia. Adelpha nodded and left on her errand.

As they waited for the priestess to arrive, Paul looked around. Aside from themselves, there were very few people in the temple. A few women, ranging in age from his own to two or even three decades more than Ariana, were near the sacred fire. As he watched, a young man, no more than seventeen, entered. He was met by a novice and led away.

"This temple does not seem to be very popular, my lady," he said. "Or is there a special time to worship?"

"We all worship in our own way, Brother. Those who wish come and go as they will. No one is required to attend a service," Ariana smiled, amused by his ignorance. She opened her mouth to tell him the special functions the priestesses of the Deity served in this temple, then thought better of it. No point working the lad up with tales of our licentiousness, she thought. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here. Though Abiron had served her well and lustily over the past several days, this close to the sacred fire she could feel the Wanton rising within her. Her breasts warmed, and she felt a corresponding heat deep within her core. Unwillingly, she thought back to the sight of Paul, naked and dripping in the bathing pool. How sweet would it be, she thought, to take him, here and now. She clenched her teeth and fought back a surge of desire, moaning silently.

"Ariana! How wonderful to see you again!"

Her eyes popped open and she saw her old friend Pathia. She had changed little over the years. More slender than Ariana, with an open, expressive face and red hair that was a gift from some long-ago barbarian ancestor. With a cry of joy Ariana embraced her. For a moment, the Wanton fought free, and hidden from Paul's view by her body, her hand rose up and cupped Pathia's breast, squeezing hard. She felt Pathia's hand on her belly, stroking softly, disturbingly near her sex.

"Naughty, shameful thing," whispered Pathia hotly into her ear. "Do you have time for a romp?"

Ariana closed her eyes and fought down the tide of lust rising within her. Canting her eyes sideways at the priest hovering nearby, she shook her head. Hoping that Paul had not noticed anything, she turned to him. "Brother Paul, here is my dear friend, Priestess Pathia. We served as novices together many years ago." She turned back to her former lover with a smile. "Do you now lead this temple?"

"I do," said Pathia. She walked to Paul, hips swaying lazily. Her entire posture was one of barely-banked sensuality. "But I always have time for a well-formed body such as his. You have brought me a lovely present, Ariana." She brought her hand up and ran it idly down his chest towards his stomach. Her eyes were bright, pupils wide with desire.

Paul swallowed through a throat suddenly bone-dry. His legs shook. His cock, which he had calmed for a time, leaped like a fish on a line. Unbidden, a scene came to his mind, of Pathia under him, writhing naked on a bed while he pinned her in place with his phallus.

"Yes," moaned Pathia. She smiled heavy-lidded into his eyes, and he knew she had seen his innermost thoughts. "Let's do that, shall we?" Her arms looped around his neck and she flowed up his body, mouth raised for a kiss.

"NO!"

Ariana pushed Pathia away with the full force of both arms, sending her stumbling several paces. She whirled around, face shocked, as Ariana interposed her body between her and Paul.

"Your pardon, Pathia. But I think you misunderstand our purpose. Brother Paul," she emphasized, "is one of the christian delegation here to see the king, and sworn to celibacy. We were visiting the town, and I had business here. Please do not abuse his courtesy by seeing him as a plaything."

Pathia frowned. "Sworn to celibacy? How incredibly dull." Even as she spoke, the haze of desire faded somewhat from her stance, leaving a sweet-faced woman of around Ariana's age, rather than the avatar of a deity.

"Well," she said, shaking her head, "If you are going to deny me an afternoon's fun, the least you can do is tell me why you are here."

"I will, but it is something best done in private." Ariana looked around. She realized that she had made a foolish mistake.

"Paul, perhaps you would prefer to wait outside for a time with Sean and Kris? My business with the priestess should not take long. Come and seek me in half an hour's time, and we will go."

Paul swallowed. He had heard tales of how those who served the deity took on the aspects of each avatar. Indeed, he had seen a few priests who were younger than him, who served the Father or the Graybeard. They had all shown competence and wisdom, but he had put it down to good acting. Heaven knows there were many monks in his abbey who sought to fool others by appearing wiser than they were. But this! Pathia's raw, unbridled lust, and his reaction to it, that could not be feigned.

He drew a shaking hand down his face and nodded at Ariana.

"Actually, I believe that I have business with Kris and Sean of a different nature." He gave a respectful nod to Pathia, one priest to another, "My lady."

He walked out the entrance, taking heedless note of the chambers on each side of the main passageway as he passed through. Once, he heard a burst of laughter. Novices, he thought with a smile. His abbey had been the same at times when he was younger.

He exited the building and joined Kris and Sean, who were leaning on a railing nearby.

"Is our friend still around?" he asked.

"Sure is," responded Sean. He jerked his head in the spy's direction, not looking at him. "Standing there across the street near that alleyway as bold as you may please. Kris tells me he's been shadowing you?"

Paul nodded. "For at least the last week or so. Since this ridiculous contest started." He realized with surprise how incredibly tired he was of the whole thing.

"Well," said Kris, "let's have a talk with him. Sean?"

"Gentlemen, I'm going to see a man a bout a dog." Hitching his trousers in the manner of one who was going to find a place to empty his bladder, Sean sauntered across the street and down the block.

"You stay here," said Kris. He waited for a few minutes, until Paul was losing patience. He then gave the street a long, slow, look, as if he was a lookout on duty, and gave a start, as if he had just recognized the spy. Walking swiftly, he headed directly towards him.

The spy waited for a few moments to determine if Kris was actually headed for him, then turned and walked quickly in to the mouth of the alleyway. With a shout, Kris ran after him. Running, both of them vanished from Paul's view.

A short while later Kris came back into view and waved at Paul. He quickly walked across the street and into the alley, which was surprisingly clean. Sean was standing over the groaning body of the spy, swearing softly and shaking his left hand.

"Are you well?" Paul asked.

"I think I broke my damned finger again. Blast it, I'm always hurting that finger."

Paul looked. The ring finger on Sean's left hand was swollen and twisted, another scar on hands which bore the marks of a lifetime of hard labor. Three other fingers that Paul could see had been broken and badly reset. Below him, the spy shook his head, recovering some of his wits. He tried to scramble away, but Sean put an ungentle boot in his back and pinned him to the ground. Flipping him over, Kris drew his dagger, which he pointed at the spy's throat.

"Your name?"

The man sighed. "Titus."

"And why were you following me?" Paul demanded.

Titus laughed at him. "Can't you guess? The big man wanted to see if you had the balls to betray him. Can't say that I thought so, small little wanker that you are, but the big man paid me well, and who am I to throw away easy money?"

The big man? thought Paul. He thought of tall Ulf with his vulpine face.

"Brother Ulf? How could I betray him? Ohhh..." he trailed off as he realized his mistake.

"Lambert." It was not a question.

Titus grinned merrily, "Of course it was Lambert. Needed to make sure you weren't getting any funny ideas, didn't he? Don't see the point, myself. Not much pressure can be put on a foundling. Not like that other one, Angela." He grabbed his crotch suggestively. "I'd like a go at her, let me tell you."

"Be silent!"

Paul looked up in surprise. Shaking with rage, Sean reached down and grabbed Titus' tunic. He twisted it until the spy's fat face was red and he was gasping for breath, his hands, heavy with cheap rings, batting ineffectually at Sean's arms.

"Your mouth is too foul to hold her name," he grated. "If you ever say it again, it will the last thing you ever do." He looked at Paul, "Do you have what you want?"

"Bring him with us," he snarled, and went back across the street to the temple. He heard Kris' voice behind him.

"I don't understand how you could betray your country this way."

Titus laughed. "My country? God, you are fools. This isn't my country. I've been a spy for Rome for damn near twenty years. I was sent here eleven years ago to help clear the way." He giggled at Kris' outraged look. "Do you think this has just started in the last few months? Christ, Rome has wanted this country scrubbed clean for decades. And they sent me to find all the dirt on your Simon-pure royalty."

"And did you?" Sean's voice was quietly dangerous.

Titus shrugged, "Not on the royals themselves. Uncommonly decent sorts, to be honest. But I've found others. Every quartermaster with sticky fingers. Every general with a gambling problem. Every baron who lost a lawsuit for some of his neighbor's land. I've got them all. When the invasion comes, they'll be on our side, and they'll be ready."

Paul whirled, "There will be no invasion! Once we have won the contest, we will be let in willingly."

Titus laughed at him, "I didn't think it possible, but you really are as dumb as you look. Listen, boy, it doesn't matter who wins this stupid-ass contest. The invasion comes either way. If we win the contest, there will be an 'incident', probably involving some dumb border guard who doesn't let a priest through quickly enough, and then there will be an invasion. If they win," he said, jerking his head at Sean and Kris, "which I don't expect, as holier-than-though as you and that nun are, there will be an invasion anyway."

"But Lambert promised..."

"Lambert lied."

They reached the temple. Paul asked the guards to keep Lambert with them outside and entered the temple again.

He took a deep breath. It was astonishing to think that less than half an hour had passed since he and Ariana had entered together. He looked for her, but she was nowhere in view.

Still consulting with Priestess Pathia, I expect.

Just as well, he decided. He needed some time to calm down and decide what to do. And to figure out where his loyalties lay. His mind was a turmoil. Could he stand by and watch a country be invaded on a pretext? He had seen the results of raids between the clans where he grew up. That was petty, small-scale stuff compared to the horrors of a crusade against a peaceful nation. He thought of Ariana, of Abiron, of gentle Hannah with her sharp tongue and clever mind, even of Alan, who he did not much like, slain for the sin of worshiping another deity.

It will not happen. I will stop it. If I have to, I will convince them to surrender and somehow, I will make sure an invasion is not necessary.

He stopped at the flame, burning steadily on the altar. Looking at it, he saw no wood or charcoal, so surmised it had to be fed by oil from beneath. He praised such a clever solution, never imagining that it was fueled by the fires of belief itself. All the women had left and he was alone. He closed his eyes and prayed. Not to God, and certainly not to the deity these people held dear. Instead, he prayed to his favorite saint, Our Lady of Angels, Mary.

Gentle Lady. Please hear the least of your sons. I am alone here, and confused. All my life I have striven to do what is right. Now I learn that your Son's priests are perverting your will, intending fire and slaughter for thousands of innocents. If there is away to avert this catastrophe, please show me the way.

Opening his eyes, he hoped for a revelation, but it did not come. However, he was easier in his heart. Looking about him, he saw a novice approaching him.

"Your first time?" she asked.

"Well, I was in here for a few minutes earlier this afternoon, but I left," he said, somewhat confused. "So yes, this is my first time here. I came with the High Priestess," he tried to explain.

The novice smiled. She was a chunky young maid with sandy blond hair. "Well, that is certainly a mark of favor," she said gravely, "to be accompanied by High Priestess Ariana herself. Is there somewhere you would like to wait while I find a priestess to accompany you?"

Paul frowned. "I don't want to cause a fuss," he said, "Just let me sit and rest my feet while the High Priestess speaks with Lady Pathia."

"Of course," she said. She led him back down the hall to one of the chambers he had noted earlier. It was bare, with only a bench and a closed door at the other end. She gestured towards the bench. "Please rest. Someone will be joining you shortly."

Paul sat with a sigh and leaned his head back against the wall. He hoped that Ariana would finish her business quickly so that he could speak to her. Surely, he thought, a high priestess would know what to do. He did not want the responsibility which had been suddenly heaped on his shoulders."

"Hello."

Paul opened his eyes to a vision of loveliness.

She was tall for a woman, even taller than Ariana. Her hair was the color of honey, and flowed like a river straight down her shoulders to the middle of her back. Her brows were the color of her hair, but her eyes were gray, tilted at the corners, giving her an exotic look. The skin of her face and arms was a lighter shade of gold.

She looked, Paul thought, like one of the legendary sidhe that the highlanders told tales about around the fire at night. She wore a sleeveless dress, cut low over her bosom and high at the leg, displaying her throat and her shapely calves. Her feet were unshod, as if Eve had stepped out of the garden, pausing only to put on a garment, the better to display her beauty.

"I am Diana," she said, and even her voice was lovely, low and warm, a voice that brought to mind warm fires, thick blankets, and comfort. "I am here to accompany you. Would you like to come in?" she said, standing aside to reveal an open door.

Paul stood and Diana drank in his form with hungry eyes. As he passed her she drew close and held his hand, so they went through the door side-by-side. As they crossed the threshold he felt a weight of worry lifted from his shoulders.

They entered a pleasant room with a thick dark carpet under his boots and a merry fire burning in the grate. She set him down on a couch and took his jacket and cloak. She hung them from a hook near the door. Running her hands down his vest, she asked, "Shall I take this off, too?"

Abiron shook his head, "No, I am quite comfortable." He looked around the room. "I must say, I wish that I had this much comfort at home. Being a priestess here is truly an honored profession."

Diana smiled and sat by his side. She lay a hand on his leg and even through his breeches Paul could feel her sensual heat. "And what is your name?"

Paul blushed in embarrassment, and even more when she raised her hand and touched him gently, her fingertips trailing lightly across his cheekbone. "I am Paul," he said. Even though he had become used to the casual touches of women through his time with Ariana, he grew warm, and sweat broke out on his upper lip and his palms.

"And you are a friend of the High Priestess, yet you chose to come to this temple," she said, her voice pensive, "I am honored by your trust. Priestess Pathia herself asked me to accompany you if you came back."

"Accompany me? Accompany me where?"

Diana smiled, as if he had told a joke she did not quite understand, "Over the border, of course." As graceful as a dancer, she stood and removed her dress. Clad now only in a linen shift, she waited. Her breasts, Paul noted in the corner of his brain that was not gibbering in terror, were full, round, and high, and he could dimly see the peaks of her erect nipples.

"The border? What border?" his voice was a harsh whisper.

"The border from boyhood to manhood. Do you not understand? When you leave this place, you will no longer be a virgin. How old are you, Paul?"

Paul swallowed. "I am twenty-three."

"So old," Diana gasped, and even from his seat on the couch Paul could see how her eyes dilated from desire. "I have never heard...the oldest one I have ever guided before was only nineteen. And he was not nearly so well-made as you." Slowly, teasingly, she removed her shift, and Paul could see how her breasts grew, flushed, engorged with blood and lust. A remark, half-heard in a tap-room, immediately discarded as the maunderings of a drunk, forgotten in his own haze of ale, swam back into his memory.

About how the priests and priestesses at the temples of the Lover and the Wanton were holy haetaerae, blessed with desire by the Deity, and charged by the Deity to guide those who wished it into adulthood.