Date: Mon, 29 May 2017 19:49:10 -0400
From: Orson Cadell <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: The Heathens 20

Please see original story
(www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/historical/the-heathens/) for warnings and
copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex
between young-adult and adult men. Go away if any of that is against your
local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but
flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty
**TODAY** at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.

*****

Harcos suddenly cried out and I looked at him in alarm. He dropped his
longer sword (I doubt anything could part him from the shorter one) and
rushed to me. It was then that I realised the wolf had done more than snap
and snarl. The hand that held my spear was running with blood from my
forearm where the wolf had ripped at me. I stared at it in wonder, unable
to reconcile my eyes with the signals from my body that seemed, briefly, to
be all about well-being. With a crashing wave, the lance of pain for my arm
now presented itself for consideration. "That HURTS!" I complained to
Harcos as I fainted into his arms.

*****

The Heathens 20: Winter Over

By Bear Pup

*****

I woke to pain and soft voices. I struggled to open my eyes and Volot's
deep and caring voice echoed from far away, "Sip some more, my fierce
friend." I felt a cup at my lips and went to speak, but I was instantly
washed away to the land of dreamless sleep. I next woke to a very
unpleasant rocking motion. I went to sit up and heard the voice of
Pameten. The rocking stopped and I smiled as the most wonderful scent
enveloped me. My Harcos. My Aldus.

"Are you awake, my puppy? Volot and the rest want me to start calling you
Canavar, my pet wolf. Are you my wolf, little puppy?"

My voice was slurred and indistinct, even to my own ears, "No, my Aldus. I
will never be your wolf. I will be your balasi, your wolf cub, but never
the wolf. The wolf threatened my Aldus, my Harcos, my everything. I will
never be that." My voice faded out and I felt a sharp, insistent pain and
then, again, the approach of nothing at all. Just before darkness closed, I
rallied for a last statement, "Aldus, Aldus! I will be your Canavarzeher,
your wol-wol-wolfsbane...."

I woke again and knew that a fever had broken. How? Because I stunk to high
heaven. Because EVERYTHIGN hurt. Because the rocking of the cart was making
me nauseous. Because if I didn't piss soon I was going to explode. I said,
"Harcos, can you help me from the cart?" which clearly came out as
"{gurgle}?"

The rocking stopped and Harcos was instantly by my side. "What is it,
Kucuk."

It took a moment but I finally made my throat release the word, "Piss!"
Harcos chuckled and lifted me into the bushes. Luckily, I was already naked
because I started before he even set me down. As the bladder pressure
eased, I found that was not all I needed to do and squatted, Harcos holding
steady so I didn't keel over. He cleaned me up and I noticed the other
setting up a campsite. I moved as if to help and Harcos caught me and laid
me aside on a pelt he'd spread there, forcing a huge cup of cool water into
my hand.

"Oh, Harcos! Have I slept the whole day?! I am so sorry! So, so--"

Harcos chuckled, "No my puppy, you have slept *two* days and I have been
mad with worry. I thought the beast had taken you from me with some vile
poison, but Volot tells me that all he took was too much of my little
puppy's blood. We will enter Winter Over in the morning. We stopped because
it is not... wise to enter a fixed camp late in the day." He moved away as
did the world. Harcos woke me and fed me some stew of the venison, mainly
broth for me. I could taste Volot's heavy hand with the seasoning and
mourned what my poor, poor master had been forced to eat for two whole
days.

I woke early, feeling oddly light, but found standing was a little beyond
my power at that point. Harcos stirred and pulled me to him, kissing me
deeply and I melted into my precious barbarian. To hell with every bandit
and wolf that God allowed onto the Earth. He Himself would have to drag me
kicking and screaming from those arms.

I shifted to hug him tighter and squeaked in pain. He pried me off his neck
and broke the kiss and proceeded to change the dressing on my wound. I
nearly fainted when I saw it. This was not a tear or cut; an actual piece
of my left, inside forearm was missing, as if a divot had been carved
there. Perhaps two finger-widths tall and three wide, it appears that only
skin and perhaps some of the muscle below had been stripped from me. It was
more than enough, though, and I came close again to fainting when Harcos
rinsed it and pressed in a thick, grey-green paste that hurt (from the
pressure) and stung (from the then), then bound it tight with a fresh strip
of boiled cloth.

Harcos could see I'd gone green and was fighting the need to vomit, so he
carried me out from the tent and we relieved ourselves side by side. I
reached over with my right hand and played with his stream, which got the
laugh that I so desperately wanted to hear. Seeing my master so serious and
intent on my wound worried me far more than the wound itself.

I was able to walk, more or less, and clumsily assisted in striking
camp. Harcos twice tried to persuade me to just sit and I glared at
him. The third time I actually snarled and he pulled away, then laughed. I
might not help *much* but by the One True God I was going to help *some*
and be damned he who tried to stop me. But even I knew that I could not
really walk, much less pull the cart, so I simply scowled at the necessity
of riding atop the cart as we set out.

We smelled the camp long before we saw it. Wood smoke, human sweat and
animal dung were heavy in the relatively-still air. We saw another small
band, perhaps six carts to our three, in the distance approaching from what
must have been the road from the 'main' passage through the ridge. Our
paths converged just before we reached the camp itself.

One of the men, a certain Meleng, was warmly greeted by Pam and Harcos, and
introductions were shared amongst the warriors. The servant of the other
warrior group eyed us with wary interest. There were six women or girls and
two young men, perhaps a few years older than me. Meleng had one of each,
and another warrior had two women who might be sisters or even a mother and
daughter.

I alit from the cart and tried my legs. After a long, desperate drink of
water and a soft, pungent tea provided by Volot, I found that I could walk
alongside my Harcos as we proceeded.

As we got closer, we found a throng of human activity along a wide
boulevard, merchants and whores and slavers calling out their services and
offers. None, not one, approached Harcos, likely driven silent by his glare
alone. Pameten, though, spoke often to ones he knew and promised to return
in time to consider purchases and sales. Instead of thickening, the throng
tinned as we approached a high, forbidding wall with an imposing
gate. There was a narrow passageway between long arms of water that
stretched away, perhaps a man-length from the walls.

It was hard to believe that this place had only existed weeks at most. It
looked like it had stood since the times of The Saviour. It was
cross-hatched wood and so tall men with bows stood on a platform twice the
height of my Harcos; even then they had a roof above them! On that roof,
men stood alertly watching every direction. I'd never seen such a
structure, and Harcos told me that it was just the *gatehouse*. The wall,
the height of the bowmen's shoes, stretched seemingly-forever to the left
and right with the ditch in front of it, unbroken. Some sections were solid
wooden plank; others had a line of chained-together, thick, jagged beams
tapering to a point. We had to manoeuvre around a short, thick wall about
half-again the height of a man.

Behind that stood two groups of guards with deadly-grim faces and spears
ready, allowing for only a thin, man-width passageway between the glinting
spearheads.  In front of either set of guards was a man in a different
tunic whom Pameten referred to as the Gate Prefect. Next to him was a
warrior called the Challenge Guard.

Each warrior spoke three numbers and his name in a strong voice to the
Challenge Guard, who simply frowned and nodded. Pameten said "Third!
Fourth! Second! Pameten!" and got his nod and the Gate Prefect made a mark
and told him to pass in. Harcos did as well with the same result. Stelio
said, "Third! Fifth! Fifth! Stelio!" and Harcos rumbled, "But he will be
Fourth and Second soon enough. Please send him with us, Prefect, if it
meets your wishes."

The Prefect change the mark he'd made and nodded. We moved through the
passage of sharp iron and I breathed a long sigh when we passed them. In
front of me, though, was a sight to freeze the heart. An unbelievably-long
and -wide thoroughfare stretched into the distance to another gate like the
one we'd just entered. I had no clue how anyone could find their way
through the maze of structures inside!

There was fifty times as many people here as I'd ever been near, and
equally five times the number of the largest town we passed. I would learn
in time that the camp was designed for 5,550 soldiers and all of the
animals, people and servants required to keep them in fighting trim. There
were, in fact, only around 4,800 warriors at that time due to losses in the
campaign, so perhaps a bit over ten thousand people were within the walls.

Harcos explained that this was the Third legion and that we were members of
the Second Century within the Fourth Cohort. The First Century of each
cohort (80 men except for the First Cohort that had 150), per tradition,
was entirely made of spearmen. The Second Century, ours, was a group of
ten, eight-man sub-units deployed to take advantage of weakness in the
enemy lines or for foray missions like the one on which Strasta was lost.

Volot and I simply walked slack-jawed and terrified by the noise, smell,
bustle and more noise. How could anyone find a single cohort, much less a
person, in this beehive? As Pameten shared greetings and insults to those
they knew as we passed them between the Tribunes on one side and the
barracks on the other, Harcos quietly explained that the camp would seem
chaotic for only a day. It was perhaps the most orderly and disciplined
place within a thousand stadia.

We turned right at the third 'street' between the large, crowded
structures. This was narrower, perhaps wide enough for ten men to walk
abreast. We got to the second, long structure and stopped. Out of the
doorway stepped the man they had called both Optio and Barea when we were
in Qakh awaiting the river crossing.

"Are you on Duty, sir?"

The small, tense man smiled, "No, friend-Pameten, I am Barea for now. What
news?"

"This very tall drink of water is on Stelio. He and his child-slave saved
us all at Karin. They were the ones who distracted and scared that fucking
bastard grandson of Antiochus." Pameten dropped his voice, "We need him,
Optio. We need him badly. And I can attest that he is perhaps the deadliest
man I've seen with the Laminatorques in addition to his servant's... flashy
skills?"

Barea stared for a minute at Stelio then Pyrkagia. "You know what you join,
man?"

Stelio chuckled. "The Second of Fourth? Who wouldn't? And if Harcos and
Pameten are amongst your number, I can understand the boasts and brags. It
is your choice, and that of the Centurions, but I would humbly welcome a
place among you."

"Harcos? What say you?"

"That Pameten is stingy with his praise, Barea." Harcos had what I can only
call a friendly glare for the little man, who smiled and chuckled.

"Show your servants to your niches, then the three of you head first to
Centurion Quartus-Secundus and," he eyed Stelio again, "unless I miss my
guess, then Centurion Quintus-Bis?" Stelio's eyes went large and all three
knelt and bowed briefly. "Give him Praeus' niche. He moved to take the
place of Magare the second As."

All three men froze, "Pardon, Optio?"

The little man smiled widely. "I'm Barea at the moment, remember? And thus
free to gossip. A certain little viper-turd slunk into Winter Over a day
ahead of me. I arrived to report to Centurion Quartus-Secundus and found
him engaged with none other than Primus Pilus himself." Harcos and Pam but
snorted in surprise.

"Yes. The reptile moved with unseemly haste which was his undoing. Primus
Pilus was quite relieved to have testimony from someone who'd been on hand
for the events arrive just at the perfect time. He'd planned to defer
judgment. He decided that, with my account and the snake's obvious haste to
get judgment without facts, that was no longer necessary. Had you come via
the South Gate, you would have met Magare there, what's left of him.

"His offense was such that a death-by-beating was mandatory, but Primus
Pilus decided that due to the specific nature of his offense, and the
offensiveness of his specific nature, a variation was in order. Magare was
leg-tied and every servant-slave of the Century was given a half-length of
chain. Those of our own Cohort were given the first five minutes alone with
the man before the others were released. They were, every single one, quite
careful to avoid his head throughout. I've never seen a fustuarium so
well-attended, so long-lasting or so effective in its message to the
Legion. I have to say, many a man is far more courteous to his slaves since
that evening."

With that, Barea turned and left back the way we'd come on his own,
interrupted errand. Pameten and Stelio wore looks of absolute
delight. Harcos gave me a look of such anger my blood ran cold, knowing
that it might have been me in that place had I been caught. The three took
huge sacks and packed them with all their clothing, armour, weapons and
treasure, along with herbs, eating utensil and other small valuables
(especially Pyrkagia's small chest of powders). Each of us six had a sack
to carry and Pameten led us into the gloom of the passageway.

Something made me look around. "Harcos! Harcos! They are stealing our
cart!" Several heads poked out of curtained doorways at my first shout, but
all burst into laughter as I finished, not least of which was my own
Harcos.

"Quiet your bark of alarm my ferocious guard-puppy! No one will steal from
us in Winter Over. It is not done; it does not happen. Those men are of the
General Prefect. Our carts go to the lot where they will be stored, along
with those goods we do not need. If we have forgotten anything, we can
simply ask one the Prefect's cadre and it will be retrieved. Come, my
little puppy, and let's show you our new kennel."

The long, narrow structure was set with a central hallway with doors to
each side. Rooms built out for four men and their slaves or servants opened
to each side. Each such room had a small hearth, a long table that could
seat a dozen with benches, and four enclosed nooks the size of a camp-tent,
complete with cot and slave-pad. Behind the hearth and its false-wall was
storage for gear and provisions. Each 'As' or unit had the two opposite
four-man rooms. We were in the sixth As of the eight, nearer the far
doorway into the barracks.

As we walked, many of the warriors stepped out to greet Harcos or Pameten
or both. They were obviously well-liked and their prolonged absence has led
to real worry. By the time we got to our As, though, five men were loudly
cheering our arrival. The warriors were literally dragged into one of the
rooms and wine was passed around. Stelio was heartily welcomed as two
others in the As had been with Pam at Karin and remembered his
child-slave's diversion well.

Finally, one of the loud men erupted with, "Show us your new trophies,
friends." I had honestly never seen Harcos truly relaxed before.

He pulled me to him and said, "You know that I lost Strasta," they quieted
and one made a god-sign from a Heathen faith; Strasta was as beloved as my
master, "but he is safely ensconced with a nice family with plenty of young
women to molest and young men to whip into shape." That got a laugh.

"It was that family who lend me this marvel, my Kucuk, my 'puppy' in his
barbarous tongue. I warn you all, he has a fierce bite and sharp teeth. We
are unsure if he stabbed or throat-ripped the wolf that gave him that
bandage." Braggadocio was one of the true coins of the Legion, as I was to
learn. "However, I will apologise in advance that he does tend to howl in
the night, and I have not taught him an inside voice yet." I blushed
scarlet but the men and the servants alike whooped and hooted with
laughter.

"To Kucuk, the puppy!" They all drank and Harcos made me take a long
swallow from his own cup. I had never been so proud and mortified at
once. "And you, Pameten? What bring you to the feast?"

"Ah, my lads, I still cannot speak even the name of the one I lost," many
of the men looked down, "but I will tell you a tale that might raise
your... interest." The men chuckled and smirked. Apparently, Pameten was
well-known for his stories and their rude and vulgar wit. "This one was
utterly disrespected by his family, a pack of curs -- no offense meant to
those flea-bitten curs present, friend-Harcos and his puppy -- and it took
me three days to find out why.

"You see, they were unable to find my Volot a wife. They looked far and
wide, and I do mean *wide*, as I'll soon explain. It seems that the girls
of his entire valley were too terrified of my Ox's... talents... to consent
to be his cow!" To Volot's horror, Pam had reached down and grabbed his
cock and balls in a way that pushed them forward into the fabric and made
him seen far bigger even than the truth!" The men absolutely howled and
pounded the table and the shoulders of both Pam and Volot, the former
beaming with pride and the latter shocked with horror.

My friend relented when a copious slug of wine was fed him by Pameten when
the men cried "To Volot, the OX!"

"And YOU, Ypoulos, you lout. I can see where your eyes are glued. The
answer is, will be and will remain. 'NO!' This one is mine you lecherous
Greek!"

The men laughed even harder at that. "To lecherous Greeks!"

Before the welcome could turn into a party, Harcos, Pam and Stelio made
their apologies and left to see the Centurions. They'd arranged a swap so
Stelio and Pyrkagia would share our half-As room, leaving us with one other
comrade, a young man of perhaps 22 summers. His master, if I'd heard
correctly, was called Say'f and he was called Ghamad. Both were dark, a
dusky, olive brown of a desert people. Say'f had departed, but the young
man's eyes were a sparkling black-within-black and his hair glistened like
the wings of a raven. He was extremely masculine, but also reserved. I
recalled that Strasta had told me he was one to trust and, one to watch and
emulate instead of asking.

We feverishly raced to organise and sort, then stow our masters'
possessions. Ghamad busily worked with small coins or plates of metal in a
leather tunic. When we asked questions as where things should go, he would
nod or point, rarely speaking. On those rare occasions where he spoke, it
was only a word or two and there was a strange guttural sound to his voice.

Pyrkagia seemed far more at home and we let him lead us as well. He
whispered to me at length whenever none could notice. When everything was
set, he carefully scanned the corridor until no warriors were near enough
to reach us and darted across to the other curtained door. Inside, two of
the men sat throwing gambling bones and the three servants, also all young
men, looked up from various tasks.

Pyrkagia was unwilling to trust these boys, or anyone else, with very good
reason. She he spoke through me. While not as complex as the
gesture-and-eye language he had with Stelio, I knew enough to start.

"And am Kucuk. These are Pyrkagia and Volot. Pyrkagia rarely speaks."

"Is he like Ghamad?" asked the youngest there, perhaps of fifteen
summers. He was shushed by the other two with stern looks.

"Perhaps, but I do not yet know Ghamad. It does not matter, to speak or not
is the choice of each man, as is how he chooses to serve his master or
employer." I saw all three relax and share a look. "As Harcos and Pameten
have already given the whole Cohort rather rude and unnecessary hints,"
three wide smirks, "can I stop blushing now or are you as innocent and
right-living as you each appear?"

That got a genuine laugh, including a truly filthy chuckle from the warrior
nearest our little conclave. "Far from it," replied the oldest of the
three, a boy of my size but much greater muscular bulk and a beautiful
tenor voice, "but you are wise to hint and ask, even within the As. It is
not approved within the Legion and many would have us brought before the
Primus Pilus and beaten for it.

"This As is, well, special in several ways. Marcaeus was the first warrior
lost to the As in over two years. Our masters are sent into the
most-dangerous and most-indefensible positions because they have proven
that they can turn the tide of battle, perhaps even of war." The pride in
his voice shone like a beacon. "For that, the uncommon choice of slaves is
overlooked. But even within the Cohort, do not be brazen about it. Play
meek and quiet and diligent at all times beyond the curtain."

Pyrkagia flashed me a look. "And in other Cohorts? Other Centuries?"

"Most have a group like ours, but none admit it. I know at least four
girl-servants who are certainly not equipped for the wifely duty of birth,"
he smirked. "You can tell be the false perfection of every feature. No real
woman looks like that! I believe that one entire As in the Fifth-Fifth is
such." An eye-flick from Pyrkagia with six exaggerated blinks.

"Yes, the sixth. You are right. All of them." Huge eyes met this news. If
gossip was currency, *confirmed* gossip, and specific at that, was gold. As
they exclaimed and muttered, I closely watched Pyrkagia's agile hands. He'd
taught me letters, but I wasn't sure of any of them. They were all staring
at me when I finally looked up and I was certain they had caught on. "When
you see the one with gold hair, call out 'Iosiphus' and see if he turns."
And with that, I bought the three of instant acceptance to the troupe.

<eof>

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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...
Canvas Hell: 27 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/
Beaux Thibodaux: 18 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/
The Heathens: 20 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/
Off the Magic Carpet: 13 chapters .../military/off-the-magic-carpet/
Lake Desolation: 12 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/
Dear John Letter: 3 chapter .../military/dear-john-letter/
Shark Reef: 5 chapters .../adult-youth/shark-reef/
Culberhouse Rules: 3 chapters .../incest/culberhouse-rules/

Special collaboration with Brad Borris: In God's Love (5 installments)
.../incest/in-gods-love/