“You are in my spot,” said I.
You may wonder that I took such bold action. Having been most unfairly incarcerated on numerous occasions, I have developed a policy of preemptive aggression. Trust me; it saves a great deal of discomfort later. The man stood up and looked at me for a moment, as if he was tempted to take a swing, but he didn’t. After a moment, he slunk away to another corner of the fenced in area. I sat down with my back to the tree and closed my eyes. Surprisingly enough, I dozed off rather quickly.
When I opened my eyes again, it was late evening. The sun was already gone behind the horizon. The ancient and mysterious city of the Amazons was lit by hundreds of torches. Under other circumstances, it would have been a beautiful sight. The men of the compound were already being rounded up and herded out the gate through which I had earlier entered. I joined the line before the Amazons could kick me again. We marched through the ancient streets to a great plaza.
The open area was surrounded by wondrous great buildings in various stages of disrepair, but all clearly occupied. Here were more torches burning than anywhere else in the city and a huge bonfire burned in the center. Hundreds of practically naked women, which is to say women who for all practical purposes were naked, danced around wildly, or sat watching from the steps of the marble buildings. Though they were almost naked, almost all of them now wore extensive body paint, as well as the hideous masks covering their faces.
We men were lined up between the largest building and the great bonfire in the center of the plaza. Three women started down the line, examining each man in turn, and it quickly became obvious that they were the examiners, as they were chiefly engaged in examining. They made a pronouncement about each man, though as yet I couldn’t hear what it might be. The men were led either out of the plaza or to a bamboo cage on the other side of the bonfire. Inevitably, regardless of which direction they were led, they screamed or wailed or cried. Some fought, but not many, and those were quickly beaten into submission. As the women got closer to my spot in line, I could finally hear what they were saying. Men were led out of the plaza after a pronouncement of “slave,” and they were led to the cage after a pronouncement of “mate.”
The fellow whose spot I had taken under the tree was three places in front of me. The women examined him and said “mate.” He began weeping, and doing so I might add, in a very unmanly way. The two men right in front of me were designated “slave.” One began screaming and the other fainted dead away. Then the women began examining me.
I examined them at the same time. Judging by their bodies, as I couldn’t see their faces, I estimated that they were just beyond my own age, but they were still in quite good shape. I know from personal experience that life as a warrior keeps one fit. One woman poked me in the stomach and turned to look at the other.
“Slave,” said the other woman.
“You’re making a mistake,” I said, just as they started away and two other Amazons were grabbing hold of my arms.
“Wait,” said the examiner who had issued my fate seconds before. I am sure that she was quite startled that I wasn’t begging, pleading, weeping, screaming, or fainting.
“Speak.”
“I am Eaglethorpe Buxton, famed across all of Duaron as the world’s greatest lover.”
She made a derisive sound. “You don’t look like a good lover, let alone a great one.”
“What do you know about it?” I asked. “You live in the middle of the jungle with scant few men. Women in Duaron have their choice of thousands of men, and yet they all want me.”
She shrugged and turned to the two women grasping my arms.
“Take him to the cage. We shall see if any of the women want him.”
Chapter Thirteen: Wherein I play witness to the horrible mating rituals of the Amazons and see more naked women than I have ever seen at one time before.
Once the poor unfortunates had been sorted and those in the other group, which is to say the really, really unfortunate ones, had all been led away, I found myself in the bamboo cage with eight other men. They all looked like they were doomed to die, which of course they were, but at least they were going to enjoy the charms of a woman before they were killed, and that is more than most condemned men have to look forward to. I was ecstatic, as being made a eunuch and the being sold into slavery seemed a far worse fate.
The sky was completely dark now and as I watched, the festivities began. Women began dancing around the great bonfire in the center of the plaza. They leaped and pranced and a few of them strutted. In between dancing, they drank what I could only believe was some kind of strong brew, from bottles made from gourds or from wineskins. Then suddenly the dancing stopped.
From the largest of the buildings, a procession arrived in the great open area. Two lines of women marched in. They were armed with swords and wore bronze breastplates fashioned to imitate their naked charms, which is to say to look like their breasts. The first dozen carried poles, held upright, with human heads, male human heads, impaled upon them. The next twelve carried a raised platform, upon which sat a wooden throne. And upon the throne was a woman. She too was wearing a mask. Hers was large, about a foot wide and almost two feet tall. The result was to make her body look small in comparison. Here was the Amazon queen. Behind her came a dozen more armed and armored Amazons. The bearers sat the queen and her throne down at the top of the ancient stone steps and then sat down below her.
A new set of women came out and began to dance. At first, the only thing I noticed about this group was that they wore no masks. Then I realized that their leaping and prancing and yes, even their strutting, was much less impressive than that of the women before. Then I realized the probable reason for this. All of these women were pregnant. Some had tiny bellies only just beginning to expand and others looked as though they might pop at any moment. Though their leaping and prancing and yes, even their strutting might have been lacking, they nevertheless put on quite an exhibition.
It was getting quite late in the evening, which is to say well past my normal bedtime, when the final group of dancers arrived. There were about thirty of them and if anything, they seemed to be the leapingest, prancingest, and yes struttingest women yet seen. The Amazons in this group were young and healthy looking, and if their acrobatics were any indication, they were in excellent physical condition. Though they too wore masks, theirs were painted with bright lips, shadowed eyes, and rosy cheeks as if in grotesque imitation of make-up, which is to say that the imitation was grotesque and not the masks in and of themselves, for they were no more grotesque than any of the others. And of course I do not find make-up to be grotesque. I have always found it rather alluring if not painted on to excess.
When these last women were done dancing, they formed a line and the women who had danced previously, which is to say the pregnant women, came forth carrying bowls that turned out to contain oil. Using their bare hands, the pregnant women began rubbing the oil all over their friends, which is to say the women with the made up masks. When they were completely oiled up, I must say I found them quite to my liking.
At that moment, the cage was opened and we men were herded out to form a line directly opposite the nicely oiled women. The same three older women who had examined us and divided us into two groups previously appeared again. This time they served more or less as auctioneers. It seemed that, since there were only nine men and some thirty women, there would be some kind of divvying up to be done.
One of the older women pushed the man at the end of the line out into the space between the sexually delineated groups, which is to say between the nicely oiled women and the men. He staggered a bit, before regaining his balance. He looked half starved and was no doubt dehydrated as well. The only reason that I could imagine for him being put in this group, was that he wouldn’t have lived long enough to sell as a slave.
“Who wants this man?” called the auctioneer.
“I will take him,” said one of the masked and oiled women.
&n
bsp; “Try not to kill him too quickly, Magnania!” squealed one of the others.
“He will last long enough for me!”
The other women laughed, and Magnania seized her prize by the hair and dragged him away to his fate.
I’m not one to judge the attractiveness of other men, but the next man in line was evidently more to the Amazon’s taste, as several of them began to fight over him when he was brought forth. I have to admit that he did look to be in better shape than the previous example. Two of the women grabbed him and tried to pull him one way, while another woman grabbed the other side of him and pulled the other way. The two women soon yanked the one woman off her feet and she fell roughly to the ground, her wooden mask shattering on the stone pavement to reveal large blue eyes and what must have been a cute button nose before it was broken. Then the other two went at it, kicking and scratching each other until the sole victor dragged away her prize.
The rest of the distribution was much the same. The auctioneers occasionally made a pronouncement about the spoils in question, such as “he might make pretty daughters,” or “he’s better than nothing.” Most of the men were fought over by at least two women. Some were unwanted seemingly by any of them, and were taken as consolation prizes by those who had already been defeated. The sixth man was so sought after that one Amazon was actually killed in the exchange, when her competitor kicked her legs out from under her and her head smacked onto the surface of the plaza. The eighth man, which is to say the man directly in front of me was wanted by two women, who each tried to pull him away, but during the scuffle, one of the two pulled out a large knife and trying to stab the other, accidentally gutting the man instead. He bled to death right there. The body was left where it had fallen and all attention turned to me.
“This one claims to be the greatest lover in Duaron!” called the auctioneer.
There were a few laughs and jeers, but three nicely oiled women stepped forward and began to move toward me. It looked as though there was to be a fight over me. Suddenly there was a shrill whistle from the far side of the plaza. Below the queen, a woman stood with her hands on her hips.
“This one goes to the queen!” she said.
There was some grumbling from the three women who desired me enough to fight over me, but when four of the queen’s armed honor guards stepped down toward me, they backed off quickly enough.
“Take him to be washed,” said the Queen’s herald. Then she pointed to the pregnant woman, who stood off to the side. “Bring the oil. The Queen must be prepared.”
Chapter Fourteen: Wherein I meet the Queen of the Amazons.
I was marched by the Queen’s guards around the plaza and into one of the large buildings just beyond. It was one of the few buildings in the city that was well-maintained. Here I was taken to a room with a large pool, told to undress, and directed to wash myself. Neither the guards nor any other woman that I encountered would give me the least bit of help. Nobody even offered to scrub my back for me, which is just about the least that you can do for somebody when they are bathing and you are in the room with them. When I was done, two older women came and slapped my naked skin with sprigs of herbs. Afterwards I smelled quite nice, but all in all, I would rather have been given a massage, as is the custom at bath houses in Aerithraine. Being slapped with sprigs of herbs was all too like the whippings my dear old dad gave me when I was a boy. They made little red strips on my sensitive skin. Finally I was led to a relatively lavish bedroom.
“Stand by the bed and await the Queen,” ordered one of the guards, and then I was left alone.
While I waited, I surveyed the room, which is to say that I looked around and not that I took out surveying tools and measured it, because being now naked I had no place to hide said tools anyway. Well, I did have one place, but it would have been most uncomfortable. The walls and fixtures of the room were obviously very old, dating to the original construction of the city. The furniture was all more recent and was roughly made, with none of the artistic flair of the busts carved above the door or the scrollwork around the doorways. Chairs, tables, and the bed were all rough-hewn—functional but not very esthetically pleasing. The bed coverings were all animal skins, with not a single sheet of woven material.
The door opened and in walked the Queen of the Amazons. With the exception of her massive wooden mask, she was naked and oiled. I saw immediately that the wooden artifact had caused me to misjudge her size. She was about my own height, though much more slender. She had muscular arms and long muscular legs, though neither could be called unfeminine. She had a flat, strong stomach, and above it, two beautiful, perfectly formed breasts. They were perhaps slightly on the small side. She strode across the room until she stood scant inches from me.
“I arranged for you to be sent with the slaves,” she said without preamble, which is to say all of a sudden and without saying anything before that. “Once you were on the road to the slave market, you were to be rescued.”
“By then I would have been unmanned,” I pointed out.
“So you would have lost a little flesh. You would heel up and do just fine without it.”
“First of all, it’s not that little,” said I. “Secondly, I don’t think I would do fine at all without it.”
“Shh. Whisper. The guards are right outside. Are you that fond of your twig and two berries that you would rather die?”
“Oh, I think I have made that abundantly clear,” said I.
“Then we will just have to think of something else,” she said.
“Why do you want to help me, anyway?”
In answer, she reached up and pulled the mask away, revealing a face that I have seen ten thousand times before.
“Elleena?”
It was none other than Elleena Postuma, Queen of Aerithraine, Guardian of the Faithful, Protector of the Realm, and sadly, the only woman in the entire world that I have ever truly loved. I say sadly because my faith and love had been shaken by her perfidy, which is to say her deception.
“Call me Ellwood, Eaglethorpe.”
“I don’t want to call you Ellwood-Eaglethorpe,” said I. “First of all, because Eaglethorpe is my name, and secondly because you are naked and a girl. Besides, I’m really mad at Ellwood and I’m only a little mad at Queen Elleena.”
“They are the same person and they are both me, Eaglethorpe. How can you be really mad at one of me and only a little mad at the other of me?”
“I am just that good.”
“Is everything all right, my queen?” called a guard from outside, after pounding on the door.
“Everything is fine,” called back Elleena/Ellwood.
“We have no choice,” she said, turning back to me. “We must make passionate love together.”
“We must?” I asked.
“Yes.” She shoved me back onto the bed and leapt on top of me. “If they hear us in here making passionate love, they will leave us alone until morning. Then we can find some way of getting you out of here with your frank and two beans intact.”
“Why do you keep using those odd terms?” I asked. “You don’t know the real names, do you?”
“Of course I do. But I was raised in a church after all, and was taught that good girls don’t say things like that.”
“I’ve heard you cuss up a storm on many occasions,” I pointed out.
“Are you trying to start a fight, so that you don’t have to make passionate love with me?”
“No. Yes. Maybe.”
“Oh Eaglethorpe, you know that you want me. How many times did you confess that you were in love with Queen Elleena? How many times have I heard you tell me that you would slay gods and demons just to kiss her delicate white breast?”
“Many I’ll warrant,” I confessed, “but that was before I knew she was you.”
“Do you not like me, Eaglethorpe? Have we not been through countless adventures together? Have I not saved your life 263 times? Have you not saved mine four times?”
“I think
those numbers are closer together,” said I.
“I was actually padding the four,” she said.
“I do like you. But I am still angry that you deceived me all those years, through all those adventures.”
“Forgive me,” she said, pressing her smoldering mouth upon mine, which is to say that her mouth was hot with desire and not that it was on fire. “I am also your best and truest friend, your buddy Ellwood.”
“That kind of talk is not going to make this happen,” said I.
“I am the woman you have always loved—always wanted.”
“You make a good point,” said I.
“And you make a good point too,” she said. “At least part of you is beginning to point.”
“And what do you call that part?”
She ignored my question and kissed me again. I wrapped my arms around her body and pulled it close to mine.
“Be gentle with me Eaglethorpe. I’ve never been with a man before.”
“Now, how can that be?” I wondered. “You’re 32 years old.”
“I’m twenty-nine.”
“Still, you are married.”
“That was a sham marriage.”
“Okay, but what about all the knights and squires that claim to have slept with you?”
“That wasn’t me. That was Miriam, my stand-in.”
“What about that ambassador from Goth?”
“I wouldn’t sleep with him,” she said. “He’s my cousin. I mean, you wouldn’t sleep with your cousin Tuki would you?”
“Um, uh… no of course not.”
“That was Miriam too.”
“But what about those elves, and that blacksmith, and those dwarves, and the Green Wizard, and that court jester?”
“Mirriam, Mirriam, Mirriam, Mirriam, Mirriam.”
“You and she never… you know?” I queried.
Many Adventures of Eaglethorpe Buxton Page 22
