Chapter 6 A Consort is Chosen on the Isle of the Moon

It had been rumoured among the Priests for some time that the Consort of the Goddess was failing.

As a young man, Ioin had been endowed with considerable skill. His bullish frame gave him admirable stamina, and he was a popular choice when he was made Consort at the age of twenty. He had been Consort now for fifteen years, and until recently performed the duties well enough. His identity as Consort, although widely known among the other Priests, had been kept from the majority of Priestesses.

He had been chosen when the powers of the previous Consort were failing. This was to be expected in a man of fifty, and after handing over the wooden antlers to Ioin, Kevan had retired to the gardens to tend vegetables with the children and Novices.

For a Consort to fail at so young an age as Ioin was unheard of. He had had no injury or illness, he simply and suddenly started to lose his ability to service the Goddess. For some while, he had been able to maintain his function by use of a silver charm, but now even that was failing as he could not harden enough for the charm to be of any use.

The Full Moon was fast approaching, and he had desperately asked some of the older Priests what to do. He had already tried every potion that the Healer could provide, but time after time he failed to hold hard to pleasure the village girls with whom he tested himself.

He wished to hand over the antlers now, before he failed Priapus altogether by being unable to make the Great Marriage at the Full Moon as he had done a hundred times before. But he seemed unable to find any Priest who supported his surrender of the antlers. Each would say something like, 'the god has sent us no sign, continue on as you have been.'

If he continued on the way he had been of late, they would get their sign surely enough at the next Full Moon. He knew that the more he worried upon it, the worse it would become, but he also knew that his time of being the Consort had to end. He would continue to get what pleasure he could with the village girls as Ioin, the Priest, but he would no longer be the tool of the god in the Temple of Ceres, failing in view of a hundred eyes.

Jenna the Healer had given him one last draught to try. She had brewed so many, though, and none had worked. The silver ring she had given him had been of some help, but was obvious to all when worn in the ceremonies. Why did no-one speak out of his obvious failing? He was no leader among the Priests, but he had friends and was well liked. Why would none say 'Priapus has left you. You need not be the Consort any longer.'

When he had first been made Consort, the honour had been overwhelming. Yes, he had a reputation among the Unsworn Priestesses and laywomen of the villages, but he was no stag. He was a simple man who wasted no thought on the mysteries of the heavens, but followed the instruction of those more knowledgeable than himself. He had thought himself the least likely candidate for the god's incarnation on earth, and he had certainly felt no touch of it himself before the others had come to him and said that there had been a sign.

Even the sign had seemed rather light on which to base such an important decision. A bull had broken through a gate in the night, and instead of getting to the cows, he had pushed open the door of the very Temple of Ceres, and was found in the morning by the altar itself. As Ioin had often been called 'the bull' in jest, then it was taken that this was a sign from the Goddess that he should take over the antlers from old Kevan.

For the first few years, he had enjoyed the honour and even the service itself. It became so that the coupling as a mere Priest with village girls and Novices was nothing to the thrill of mating as a god in the sight of all.

Of course, in the Temple he was heavily hooded and cloaked and had no identity of his own, only King Stag, Consort, Priapus. Perhaps this was why the witnesses had never bothered him.

The night of reckoning arrived more quickly than he had thought. He went to the small room behind the altar in the Temple of Ceres, where would remain hidden from view behind the curtain until he was called forth. He could hear others moving about in the Temple. He had waited in this room so many times, but this time it was different. There was a feeling of finality in the very air. Even the room itself was different, for someone had been sleeping in there since the last Full Moon. It had been tidied and furnished with a wide soft bed and table.

There was even a fireplace in which a small fire burned. As usual, he was early for the ceremonies. The other Priests would not bring the cloak and antlers for some time, but he had to arrive before all others and wait here alone. He sighed, then crossed the small room and fell heavily onto the bed. Who would be Goddess tonight?

He had heard a rumour that it was to be the Chosen One herself, which would be just terrible. For him to fail with such a one would be the ultimate insult to the Goddess. And besides, it was written that she was to be a maiden at the Great Marriage. He had bedded many a virgin Novice before, but never had to do so at the god. It would make a difficult task even more so. He knew that he would fail. He simply hoped that he could at least get enough of an erection to make some sort of union.

He lay on his back and rubbed his unwilling member through his gown. No response. There was a movement behind the curtain, and a girlish voice addressed him.

'May I enter?'

'Who is there?' he asked, as he came early to this room to protect his identity from the Priestesses of Ceres.

'My name is Kelle. I have been sent by Jenna. She has told me to give a medicine to you.'

'Well, leave it by the curtain. I will take it as she suggests, although the others have been of no help.'

'No, I am to apply it myself. It is no draught, but a tincture.'

'Can I not apply it myself, then?' he asked testily.

She giggled. 'I think not. My instructions were very specific.'

'Well, Jenna is no Priestess, and so does not know that you cannot look upon my face.'

'Jenna knows much. She said that you could wear this..' A girl's hand came around the curtain and dangled a hood of the type he wore in ceremonies under his antlers. 'I am no Priestess myself, either, but only a Novice waiting to fail my first test so that I can leave the Temple and become a Healer.' Ioin was charmed by her open honesty. Most Novices kept up a pretence that they wished to enter the Temple, even if in truth they did not.

He got up from the bed and took the hood from her hand and put it on. It had two thin gauze eyeholes through which he could make out enough to return to the edge of the bed. 'You may enter. ' he said.

'Jenna has been very helpful to me,' he started as she sat beside him on the bed and struggled with the waxed seal on a pot of salve. 'I do not know why she did not give up on me long ago as a hopeless case.'

'Because she says you are a very good Consort,' Kelle explained, as though she knew much of his case already.

'A good Consort? I think not. My phallus is failing me and I play no other part in the Temple'. Ioin gloomily observed.

'Precisely. Well, we need to do what we can about your phallus, but the other is just perfect,' she said, smearing a thick ointment onto her fingers. It smelled of honey and spices, like a new cake or a cup of mead. He was not listening to her words, none of it mattered. The feeling of doom hung over him like a heavy cloud ready to spill.

'Do you have your ring?' she asked. He took it from the pocket of his gown and handed it to her. 'Not yet. For later.'

He thought it unlikely that there would be use for it later. Through the gauze eyeholes of the hood, he saw her place the pot of remaining salve beside the fire to warm. She pushed him back onto the bed and lifted up his gown, leaving it covering his head. He felt the touch of her fingers on his shrunken member. It was pleasant, yes, with the sticky thick salve, but he had tried measures such as this before. He felt the bed move slightly as she slipped off it. Outside in the Temple, he could hear that the ceremonies had started. There was the chanting of the Priests and Priestesses. Yes, they would be ready for him soon, but would he be ready for them? Do not worry upon it, he thought. Just focus on the feeling of her strong young hand, rubbing up and down. The salve was beginning to generate a warmth of its own from some herbal ingredient. Without missing a beat with her hand, Kelle's warm breath played upon his member. Yes, he could feel it starting to swell. She released her grip, and he whispered to her. 'No, don't stop. It is working. A Priest will soon enter with my cloak and antlers. Make me ready...'

He felt a sudden urgent plunging onto his hardening member. Her throat, her mouth, sucking his semi-erect phallus with a ferocious strength he had never before experienced. The pitch of the chanting was rising outside in the Temple. His erection was hardening by the second. The heat of the salve was increasing with the touch of her breath. What manner of wondrous herb was this, and why had it not been prescribed earlier? Or perhaps its effectiveness relied solely upon such skilful application. Yes, she was smearing more of the ointment onto his now throbbing phallus. The burning was just the right intensity to inflame his passion the more, but the soothing moistness of her throat was also perfect. He felt a weight on the bed beside him, but she continued to suck on him without moving from between his thighs. So there was someone else in the room. Well, no matter. There would be a hundred witnesses to his passion in a short time.

Someone was affixing the antlers to his head, and pulled his gown off his face to tie the straps under his chin. He could see dimly through the gauze eye-holes. It was the Novice, Kelle. How? And who was now sucking so strongly on his burning erection? From the position on his back, he could not see. Did it really matter? He felt her slip the ring onto his now full erection. Yes, he could be the god this night. He could service a dozen Priestesses.

Kelle pulled him to his feet and swung the huge cloak around him. His vision in the hood was limited, so she led him to the door by the hand. 'Good luck, my god,' she whispered, and pulled aside the curtain to let him pass into the Temple.

Immediately in front of him, the Goddess lay on the altar awaiting him with her legs supported wide apart by two Unsworn Priestesses. Behind her, the Temple was full of Priests and Priestesses of every gown. A girl in a gown the colour of bright new blood stood on the other side of the altar, facing the crowd. She held aloft the sacred Sword and Scabbard. She was reciting aloud the words of the ceremony of the Great Marriage, then as she turned to face him, he realised it was the one they called Cybele. The Chosen One. With relief, he realised that this meant that the one who lay in front of him was another. He looked down at her naked body, painted in blue woad on the breasts and belly. Dreeana. He had bedded this one before, some years ago when she was a Novice. It was never as good as when you met them in the Great Marriage, though, even if they knew not who it was that plunged into their waiting cavern.

Cybele was finishing her service, and thrust the Sword into the Scabbard over Dreeana's head. At that moment, Ioin turned his head to see Kelle slipping away from the room behind, with... Thomias! The old Priest was wiping his swollen mouth on the sleeve of his gown. As the horror of this washed over him, Ioin's erection shrivelled like a leaf on a fire. The Chosen One stared at him, and Dreeana wriggled impatiently.

'I am god no longer,' he cried to Cybele. 'Choose another Consort !'

With this, he pulled off the antlers and gown and ran from the Temple. Thomias grabbed at him, telling him to come back, but he shoved him aside and fled in disgust at what had happened. Cybele had acted quickly. She had known that this was possible. Thomias approached her and begged her to keep Ioin as the Consort, that he would come to his senses soon, and he would get one of the other Priests to fetch him back. She refused. She said that a new Consort must be chosen, here and now.

Thomias was horrified. 'But there has been no sign, we must wait !' he demanded.

'Wait to lead a bull by the nose to the Temple under cover of darkness?' she hissed quietly so that none but those at the altar could hear. Thomias had drawn back, and quietened his protest.

'I am open to any fair selection,' Cybele told him. 'Why do you not confer with your Priests and tell me what manner of trial they wish. And make sure that the trial is not that of whose wits are most dim, and who will most meekly do your bidding, Thomias.'

Thomias hurried to the other end of the Temple, where some of the other older Priests gathered around him. Cybele knew not most of their names, but noted in her mind their faces. Cybele bade Dreeana to rise and go back to the Hall of Priestesses.

'I will call for you if you are needed, my friend,' she said warmly. 'Meanwhile, a stone altar is no place of comfort. I think this shall take some time.'

Thomias approached her and bent his knee to her very briefly. She was sure now that she had identified one of her chief enemies. He who had been her quiet old teacher for years in the Hall of Novices.

'Have you a suggestion, then Thomias?'

'Yes, Chosen One.' Thomias managed to use her title so that it sounded like an insult. 'We wish it to be the trial of Priapus. Each Priest to take a willing partner, and to hold his erection as long as he is able.'

'And he who holds longest becomes the Consort?' she clarified.

'Yes. He who spills or softens fails. It is fair.'

'What of the hood? All will know who the Consort is from this night ' she asked.

Thomias shrugged. 'Have you another suggestion?'

'No. Well, let us have the Trial, then.' She turned to face the crowd. 'The new Consort is to be chosen by the Trial of Priapus. Each Priest who is present and chosen by a Priestess should do what the god suggests. He who maintains his erection longest is to become Consort. Now, Priestesses, make your choice.'

There was a sudden rush of confused movement in the room, as Priestesses sought their favourite and disputed claim to the more attractive. A whole taggle of Initiates swarmed around Cabirius, the tall young teacher, each demanding that they had first right. Cybele smiled at this, even though he was her own favourite. He would not win, she warmly thought, remembering her times alone with him in her chamber. And it would not be appropriate for her, as Ceres Chosen One, to participate anyway. She would not be jealous of the eager young Initiates jostling for his side. After all, it would be her bed into which he would steal after all this was over.

Thomias himself had no claimants, nor did some of the very young or elderly Priests. They would at least be spared the Trial which they could not pass.

A brown-haired boy was trying to slip away from notice behind the altar, but Kelle grabbed him. He turned to Cybele, and she recognised him immediately as the boy who sang so beautifully. 'Must I?' he appealed to her as their eyes met. Certainly he looked too young for the Trial, but Kelle had an iron grip on his arm looked directly at Cybele with fiery determination.

'He is mine !' she claimed.

'Do you not think he is a little young, Kelle?' Cybele asked.

'He is not as young as you may think. Are you, boy?'

She sunk her nails into his arm. He said nothing, but offered no further complaint. Kelle added, 'He's hardly younger than us. Fourteen.'

'Well then, have your little songbird, Kelle, but careful you do not crush him.' Cybele turned and the chaos had settled. Pairs and groups clustered about the Great Temple. She walked about the room settling disputed claims until she came to Cabirius.

'Which do you prefer?' she asked him, of the group of Initiates and Unsworn Priestesses who gathered around him. He smiled at her and she clearly saw his thought: You, my Cybele. She shook her head so slightly that none but he could notice. 'It makes no difference to me, Chosen One. Let it be your decision.' His voice was rich and musical and his dark eyes smiled at her. She looked at the cluster of boisterous young women around him, and noticed a shy young Initiate at the edge of the pack.

'Annia.' The small girl stood forward, and Cybele nodded. As the others moved away, disappointed, Cybele whispered in her ear. 'Its alright, Annia. He doesn't mind losing, just do as much or as little as you want,' Annia smiled. It was she who had led Cabirius to Cybele's own bed, and knew how it would pain her leader to see her own favourite couple with another. At least this way, Cabirius and Cybele could remain together in spirit, as she was already somehow a part of their illicit trysts.

Annia wondered a little why Cybele did not want her lover to become Consort, as one day the Chosen One would have to couple with the Consort. But then, she supposed, so would many others, and she does not want to share him. Better to keep their meetings private, and abide another as Consort when necessary.

The final dispute was for Oannes, a wily little fox-like man. Three Priestesses stood firmly beside him, one Unsworn and two Full Priestesses of his own age.

'Well, you are popular Oannes. And as three have chosen you, which do you choose?'

The man smiled a smooth grin. 'Must I?'

'You want me to choose, then?'

'I was hoping rather to keep all three..' Cybele laughed and shook her head. 'You may be so confident of your own prowess that you would outlast more than one woman, but it would hardly be fair to the other Priests.'

'Ah, but the Consort should be able to service more than one woman.'

'Now, play fair Oannes. You can only have one.'

'Ria, then,' he stated. The woman at his side beamed, and Cybele was pleased for the woman who had been like a mother to her in her long years as a Novice.

'Well, good luck to you both.' Cybele moved back to her place in front of the altar. About half of the Priestesses and unpaired Priests shifted about uneasily. 'Those not taking part in the Trial may sing to the Goddess. May she choose a worthy Consort on this evening.'

She motioned for a Priestess to dampen some of the torches, and the huge room darkened. The glow from the huge fires at each side of the Temple flickered on the great beams of the ceiling. As the chant rose up, the coupling began. Most started standing, rubbing each other with hands underneath their robes. This gave way to other more varied activity. Gradually, more had taken to the ground and removed their gowns, lying on them in the warm fire-glow.

Cybele tried to prevent herself from looking for him, but she could not help seeking out Cabirius. As she saw him, their eyes met over the wide distance of the hall. He lay naked, on his side so that he could watch her, and her messenger, the young Annia, sat neatly beside him, fully clad. She toyed with his phallus as though it were a kitten, and as he gazed at Cybele lovingly, he looked in little danger of spilling at the young girl's light touch. In fact, it was surprising that he had not yet been disqualified for softening, but perhaps looking to his lover across the room and thinking of their times together doing just such a thing was enough to keep his interest.

As the number of couples gradually dwindled with groans of passion either spent or lost altogether, the Trial truly began. Oannes was in full intercourse with Ria, which seemed a little foolish if he wanted not to spill. Cabirius and Annia had moved little, but for shifting her small weight for comfort. She was still stroking him gently, and he still staring at Cybele for all to see, although no-one seemed to notice his attention.

The boy behind the altar with Kelle was holding on admirably while she suckled him hard, as though trying to make him lose. She remembered Kelle from her time as a Novice. Although Kelle was only an Initiate now, she had the predatory instincts of a cat. Cybele wondered why she had preyed upon this young boy - perhaps she had simply been too slow to get one of the full-grown men when the Trial had been announced.

There were others coupling that she did not know or could not recognise in the dim shadowy light, but two at a time, they broke apart and withdrew from the contest. Now it seemed it were down to Oannes and Cabirius. She would never have dreamed her own lover would last this long, and she testily thought that he had never lasted one half of this time with her. She also started to panic that he may win the Trial, and be designated Consort. She told herself that this could be a good thing. At least then she would only have to couple with him. But he would have to couple then with many.

She looked back at him and tried her best to send him a message though the air. 'I want you for myself. I do not want you to win...' Cabirius sat up suddenly and took Annia's hands. He said something to her and smiled gently. Thomias, who was standing near Cybele, saw the cause. 'Well, my fellow teacher is out of the running. He has softened. It seems Oannes is the King Stag,' said the older Priest.

Cybele motioned for the torches to be relit. At that moment, Oannes let out a loud groan and spilt into Ria below him. As the torches were lit, Cybele addressed the group.

'Priapus has shown his will. The Goddess has a new consort. It is....' she was interrupted by Kelle. 'Attis,' Kelle said smugly, kneeling beside him. His erection still throbbed and stood hard as a Herm's.

Cybele spun around, her eyes wide and wild. 'Attis?' she said, clearly thrown. The boy stood still. He looked like a cornered animal, but still his erection stayed true. 'Attis? You are Attis?' He did not answer her, but stared into space and breathed sharply. 'Well, then, Attis it seems you are the Consort.'

Suddenly, he lurched forward and pulled the sword from its sheath. As those nearby leapt back and Kelle scrambled out of his range, he grabbed hold of his own erection. In a heartbeat, Cybele saw what he meant to do.

'No!!' she cried. At the same time, Cabirius also called out. 'No, Attis. Its not even a sickle! Drop it! Drop it!'

As Attis stood frozen, wide-eyed and panting, Cabirius leaped across the room and grabbed the sword from his friend's hand. He threw it as far along the floor as he could and grabbed the younger Priest by both shoulders. 'Attis. Its me, Cabirius. Look at me. It is alright, you can be the Consort.'

'No..,' he murmured. Cybele noticed that Thomias was edging closer, and knew that she had to get the fragile and panicked boy away from the older Priest.

'Back there,' she said to Cabirius. 'Take him back here.' Cabirius led Attis behind the heavy curtain. All in the Temple were silent. It was all a confused mess. She turned to face the gathering. 'You should all leave. All will be clear by the New Moon.

'No !' It was Thomias. He stood squarely with his legs apart, openingly challenging her authority. 'We must have the Great Marriage this evening, or else the Trial is invalid and another Consort will be chosen by sign.'

Cybele realised that she could yet be defeated, and another of Thomias's pawns put in place as Consort by some contrived sign. 'Then make the Great Marriage, he shall. Just give him a little time.'

'He can take as long as he needs, until the Full Moon sets.' Thomias stated. Cybele guessed that they had about an hour only.

'Prepare yourself, also, Cybele, for a new Consort must first make the Great Marriage with the Chosen One,' he gloated.

'There has been no Chosen One for three generations. How could you know such a thing?' she demanded. Thomias produced a small battered book, and though she had never seen it before, she knew it. It had to be the book Cabirius had found as a child in the ruins of the Hut of the Chosen One. The last Chosen One had been driven from the Isle by Priests like Thomias long ago. Why would Thomias of all people show this book, when she was sure that what he wanted was to break the chain of Chosen Ones forever. He read from the book.

'Only an unbroken maiden who bears my mark can be Chosen.' He looked accusingly at Cybele, and she felt his eyes burning into her. 'Well?' he demanded.

'What do you mean?' she asked, returning his gaze with her cool green-grey eyes.

'Can you truly be the Chosen One?' he insisted.

'Did you not feel the Goddess shake the earth as I was led to the altar for my Initiation last New Moon?' she asked.

He could not be moved. 'But the book has said...' he started.

'And you can bear witness to both my mark and maidenhead when I make the Great Marriage,' she smiled evenly at him.

He seemed a little caught off guard. 'But what of the Priest seen stealing to your bed?' he hissed quietly.

'He does not need to break my maidenhead to be my lover,' she hissed back, knowing that Thomias would have expected her to have lose her virginity through not knowing its importance. He returned to the book, tapping at it angrily.

'Well, there is still the rest. For this boy Attis to be Consort, you must couple with him yourself before the moon sets.'

'Well, give me some time to prepare, then.' She spun around to leave, but then turned back to Thomias with a victorious grin. She snatched the book from his hand. 'I believe this is the book of the Chosen Ones,' she said. Without looking into it, she said, 'There was another sign, too, was there not? What is the last word in the book, Thomias?' He reluctantly mumbled her name. 'Sorry, Thomias, I don't believe all your Priests heard you.' Thomias was fuming. The book had been in his possession since before this stupid Saxon girl had been brought to the island, and none had seen it in all that time. Old Kevan himself had found it in the gardens after he had retired from being Consort. Like all of the Consorts since Thomias had been made Priest, he had been Thomias's tool. The girl must be able to steal thoughts, that was the only explanation. She was a more dangerous threat to the Priests than he had imagined.

He turned to face her, and relucatantly answered her question. 'Cybele.'

'The signs form something of a pattern, do they not, Thomias? And the pattern supports me as Chosen.'

She disappeared behind the curtain with a flourish, and nomatter how he strained his ears, he could not hear their words. Cybele entered the small room to find Cabirius and Attis sitting on the edge of the bed. Cabirius had his arm around his friend, and a tear ran down his cheek. Attis looked as though he were made of stone.

'It is no use,' Cabirius said to her. 'He will speak to me not.'

Cybele handed him the book. 'You found this, and now I return it to you. It seemed old Kevan out of pride and dotage told Thomias that he had found it himself. Just as well, as that is what has kept you safe from Thomias all these years. If he had known you knew of the Chosen Ones' wisdom, you would have been long ago assigned to the fields. He would certainly not have had you beside him as teacher.'

He clutched the precious book close to him and bent forward to kiss her. 'Thank you, Cybele. I love you.' Attis moved slightly, as though Cabirius's words had reached through the spell that bound him.

'There are some words there that I would rather have remained buried, though, Cabirius,' she continued.

'What do you mean? Is there something that threatens your position? If so, I would gladly throw it on the fire now!'

'No, that would give Thomias more power than ever. While we have the book, we can show what is truly the tradition of the Goddess and what is fabrication by the Priests. Living memory is such a short and fickle thing. Only written words last to tell of who we were and are. One day, your story of Attis will be as precious to others as this book is to us.'

'Yes, that is why I took the risk to put it to paper, although none must know in our lifetimes that Attis has his mainland memories intact.'

Cybele suddenly realised that the moon would be slipping fast from the sky. 'I can put it no more gently, Cabirius, but I must couple with Attis in the Great Marriage. Before the Full Moon sets. It is no Priest's lie, either. It is in the book.'

'I mind not, my love. You can think of me as I thought of you just now when Annia touched me,' Cabirius told her tenderly.

'But look you at him,' Cybele said practically. 'Can he make the Great Marriage like this? We must break the trance. He is in the state of one badly injured. He needs to be kept warm and soothed with teas, but we have no time,' she said urgently.

'Well, then go you and get him some warmed wine. I will speak to him,' Cabirius told her. She arose and slipped out of the chamber. Cabirius turned and took his friend's face in both his hands. 'Attis, you must be Consort. For the Goddess. For me. In the Grove, you told me of your feelings for me and asked for one kiss only. Could another now do us any harm? I love her, Attis, and you must help her. They would destroy her and all else that is truly of the Goddess. Please?'

He kissed Attis on his shoulder, then pulled his gown open at the neck. His friend's body loosened slightly and Cabirius pushed him back on the bed, then gently kissed his throat. The younger Priest's glazed eyes flickered, and Cabirius pulled the gown open further, then ran his hands over the boy's narrow girlish chest. He slipped the gown back to reveal a small hard nipple, which he kissed and bit. His rough stubbled chin grazed on Attis's soft tender skin and the youth roused a little.

'Oh Attis. I was watching you. Annia was touching me, and I looked to my beloved Cybele, but also to you. I knew that cat Kelle would seek you out. Remember, she thought we were lovers. She wanted to make me jealous, and I was. Watching her suckle you was an agony.'

'Then why won't you have me?' Attis murmured.Cabirius was thrilled to hear his friend speak, even if he still sounded as though he were in a trance.

'Oh, Attis. It is not that I do not want you. I do. But you enjoyed the touch of the girl Kelle, did you not? Can you not see why I want Cybele?'

'I thought only of you,' Attis spoke, his tone dull and lifeless. 'That your lips had touched hers, and hers now touched me.'

Cabirius continued to caress his friend's slight body. 'Well, it worked. You won the Trial. You are Consort.'

Attis looked away from him, to the ground. 'I do not wish to be Consort,' he said, his voice returning a little to normal.

'But have you not always wanted to show your devotion to the Goddess?' Cabirius pleaded.

'But through my voice, and even the blade. Not this.'

'The Goddess chooses her own, Attis. No other could have held so long with that Kelle.' His friend did not answer, so he continued his entreaty. 'And you well know that any other Priest chosen Consort would serve the God, not Ceres. For a man, you have more of the Goddess in you than any other I have known. The Goddess is being slowly killed on this island by Thomias and his Priests. That is why She chose you.'

Attis turned to look at him and spoke as though the trance had finally been broken. 'Cabirius, I know you are right. I know it in my mind. I know that it is the result of all that has come before, from my mother's mother who was Chosen One. I know. But why then do I want only you?'

Cabirius gently stroked his cheek and stared deep into his long-lashed eyes. 'You will outgrow it, Attis. Most do, they say. I have been your only friend since childhood, and we love each other perhaps too well. But it is time for us to move on. And your path has been chosen.'

Attis looked at his longingly. 'Then one more kiss before I follow that path?' he asked.

'You told me before that you would be satisfied with only that one kiss.'

'I never said that I would be satisfied with only that. It would take more than your kiss to satisfy me. I said that I would only ask for the one kiss, which is a very different thing. And that was before you asked me to be Consort and to bed she who has taken you from me.'

'That is true. I know it is much to ask of you. So a kiss you may have.' He bent over to kiss Attis who still lay on the bed. Attis kissed him back angrily, then with a strength beyond his small frame, he spun Cabirius over onto his back and tore both their gowns fully open. Cabirius offered no resistance, and opened his mouth as Attis straddled over his chest and thrust his huge erection into his face. As his mouth was filled with Attis's hard hot flesh, Cybele entered the room. Cabirius pulled back, but Attis had him pinned to the bed, and there was nothing he could do. He felt that he would surely die of shame. Attis remained in place just long enough for effect, then spun easily off him and stood beside the bed naked and erect, looking directly at Cybele. His hands were to his hips, and he seemed filled with aggressive confidence.

'Well, is there still time to make the Great Marriage, O Chosen One?' he said bitterly. Cybele was not thrown off balance for even a heartbeat.

'Yes. It is well to see that you are already prepared, my Consort. Come now to the altar.' She threw him the wooden antlers of the King Stag and pulled back the curtain which opened to the Temple. As the curtain fell closed behind them and he was left alone on the bed, Cabirius heard her voice raise to address the audience outside. He could not bear even to hear what must now be done, and he covered his face with a pillow and sobbed.

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