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Her swollen belly was silhouetted against the morning light that streamed in through a gap in the door-curtain. This Winter had been remarkably mild, but this morning was even more so. The sun blazed eagerly as though it were Summer, and he guessed they must have slept very late. He reached over to her and she rolled onto her side with her back to him. The gesture was inviting rather than a rebuff, though, for she sidled her bottom up into his groin. He had awoken with a throbbing erection, and the invitation was too much to resist. He pulled her soft thick hair upward and kissed the tender nape of her neck. She murmured in sleepy consent, and he nudged his phallus against her thighs. Her breathing was steady and deep, but not that of sleep. He reached below and gently prised apart her lips. She was already moist, perhaps she had been dreaming of him doing just such a thing. She tilted back her pelvis so that he could enter her more easily from behind, both lying on their sides. He slid into her slowly. Each gentle thrust felt like a caress deep within her body. He cradled her breast in his hand and ran his tongue ever so lightly down her spine. She shivered with pleasure and her back arched so that he sunk even deeper inside her. Neither made a sound, but for their laboured breathing. His erection was aching, as though ready to burst with the love that he felt for the woman beside him. "I mean to spill," he whispered in warning. She made no sound, but clenched the muscles of her sex around his phallus as tightly as a fist. He gasped and felt his seed ooze slowly from him, so exquisitely slowly. The pleasure surged through him in pulsing waves, like the peak of a woman rather than a man's usual gushing burst. When it had subsided, he showered her back with wet kisses. She reached back and squeezed his hand. "Good morning," she said with light humour, as though she had just awoken. "By Ceres, I love you Kelle," Cabirius whispered. They fell back to sleep then, nestled against each other. When they awoke a second time, Cabirius slipped from the bed and poured some simmering water from beside the fire into the washing bowl. He then carried it to beside the bed, dampened a cloth and set about washing Kelle as she lay still abed. The skin of her abdomen was stretched taut, despite the fact that her hips were wide and she still had two moons to go before the birth. Cabirius kissed her distended belly tenderly. "Good morning to you, Maenwyn. I hope I bothered you not this morning!" Kelle laughed and slapped his head playfully. After giving Kelle her bath, he wiped his own body clean, then put on a fresh gown. "Are you giving lessons today?" Kelle asked him. He nodded. "Only one this afternoon, on Mainland customs. The material is so old, though, that it probably bears no truth at all. Attis is the only one who could right the information, but he will not speak of the Mainland at all." "It bears to reason that if he, of all the Isle's inhabitants, escaped the Mainland of his own free will, then he is hardly likely to be one to speak its praises for the amusement of others," said Kelle. "Amusement? You call learning amusement?!" "Do not get upset, my love. I only meant that Attis would probably prefer that we all remain in ignorance of the ways of the Mainland, lest we become more like them." Cabirius's brief flash of anger settled. "That is true, no doubt." Kelle lifted herself awkwardly from the bed. "Perhaps you are having twins, after all," Cabirius said to her lightly. She shook her head as she dressed in a woollen jerkin and shapeless brown gown. Cabirius rummaged in their clothes-chest and passed her some thick warm hose. "Keep warm, Kelle. I do not want you catching a chill." She sat on the bed and pulled them on reluctantly. "What are you doing today, then, my love?" he asked her sweetly. "Since Jenna's death, I have been run off my aching feet preparing medicines and such. I wish that I had had more time to train as a Healer. Now that she is gone, methinks the whole Isle realises just how much she was relied upon. I am a poorly trained substitute." "Left she no written record of her recipes?" Cabirius asked. "No. I do not even think she was literate, as I never saw her read or write. Remember, after all, that she probably never went to classes as she would not have been a Novice. With such an obvious disability, they would probably have wasted little time on her eduction as she clearly could not enter the Temple. Methinks she was sent straight from the Hall of Eire to the lay-village." "As such a small child? Who would have looked after her?" Cabirius asked, clearly shocked. Kelle shrugged. "Some long-dead Healer, I would guess from her training. And from her allegiance, followers of the nameless God." "Methinks I judged her too harshly when she lived. She must have had a difficult time of it. The Isle can be a ruthless place." "I think there are many who share your regret. I cannot say that I am one of them, but then perhaps I knew her too well in life to ever seek reasons for her actions." "Yes. I had forgotten that you were her prisoner for two seasons. I cannot expect you to forgive that." "So too were you, only in far less comfort that my prison in her hut. No, it is not a matter of forgiveness, but of familiarity. I knew her well both before and after the confinement, for I judged the unpleasantness of her company a worthwhile price to exchange for her Healing knowledge. She was always willing to share that, I will give her that much." "Not effectively enough, though," pointed out Cabirius, "else we would not now be so at a loss of her expertise." "That was not her fault. She was willing to share knowledge with any that could abide her long enough to learn. And most of her pupils lasted no more than a moon." "Like Fionna? Now there was a poor choice of student!" "Poor choice of lover, more like," Kelle replied. Cabirius pulled back the door-curtain to look at the sun. "It looks time I should be leaving," he said. "There is wood for the fire already cut, and I shall return directly after my lesson." "No tarrying with the pretty young Novices," she chided. "None could be prettier than the one I have already in my bed," he replied as he dropped the curtain behind him and she was left alone. Kelle went to Jenna's hut to prepare a tincture for one of the children in the Hall of Eire. Jenna's hut had remained uninhabited since her death, but Kelle went there on a daily basis to use the herbs and facilities for preparing medications. If not for the fact that she had been kept a prisoner there, Cabirius would have suggested that they move into the hut. Is was much larger than the one they currently lived in, which was a small hurriedly-built peat one. Jenna's hut was not large, but it was old, and built of thick stone and thatch. It was far easier to keep warm than their current home. Kelle thought that she might suggest the move herself, when the babe was born. She would not want to risk the child catching a chill after all. She wondered if it were true that she would be nursing two babes, her own and Cybele's. She imagined two cribs beside Jenna's sturdy stone-based bed, and thought how much such a thing would have horrified Jenna. She laughed lightly to herself at the thought. Cabirius had told her last night that he meant to take the mark of the Serpent of Priapus. Kelle did not really understand why, for all his explanation. After all, Attis was the Consort, not he, and even Attis wore no such mark. In fact, no man had worn the mark for as long as anyone could remember. Only Herms now wore a serpent emblazoned around their huge stone phallus. It was just a tradition, and seemed to have little meaning for anyone in these times. Cabirius had shown her in the earliest pages of the ancient book of the Chosen Ones where all Priests of the Chosen One had once adorned themselves in such a way. Kelle had shown him that it also described the ritual emasculation that some Priests underwent. Did he intend to follow that rite as well? He had only laughed at her, and said that Cybele may be well pleased with Priests returning to the Serpent, but that she would have no desire to see their manhood affected. Kelle could not deny that she had felt a little jealous. Why did he have to choose now to be so marked? He had been a Priest for many years now, and many of the Priests followed more the new God than Priapus anyways. It had been a moon now since she had promised to Cybele that she could couple with Cabirius in exchange for the unborn babe Cybele carried. It had seemed a ruthless an uneven bargain at the time, but to Kelle's surprise, Cybele had made no move to assert her right to Cabirius. Perhaps this was why, at least in part, he now wished to make the offering of being marked as Priest to Cybele. Cybele was as heavy with child as she herself, but it had not dampened Kelle's desire to couple with Cabirius. Perhaps the deal had been symbolic, that it was merely the right to Cabirius that Cybele wanted, rather than exertion of that right. Or perhaps she so wished for Kelle to take her child that she felt Kelle may be suspicious if she had asked nothing in return - and what else had Kelle to give but Cabirius? These thoughts swum around Kelle's mind as she stirred oil and herbs in an iron pot over Jenna's fireplace. She was interrupted by someone at the doorway. Attis entered without even calling greeting, but Kelle was well used to his lack of manners. "Good day to you, Consort. What can I do for you? Do you seek a potion or medicine of some kind?" she asked him with an amused smile. "No, Kelle, and would you call me kindly by my name in private? I am truly only Consort in the Temple, unlike Cybele, who is Chosen One all the time." He looked agitated, and paced a little before turning to face her across the fire. "Attis, then," she said. "What do you seek?" "Can you read?" he demanded. "Of course," she replied, but then remembered the rumour about Attis's illiteracy. "But then it is a much over-rated skill, methinks," she added. "I would rather know more of Healing and less of letters." He looked at her sulkily, but then produced a letter and passed it to her. "Would you read that to me," he said, without any tone of query. She quickly snatched the letter from his hand, as he held it within range of the licking flames of the fire, and it was on parchment. She crossed the room to sit at a table and read the letter. "It is addressed to Cybele, and says for her eyes only," Kelle said, and looked to Attis enquiringly. "That much I know already," Attis said simply. "It was the small scratchy writing within that I could not read." Kelle sighed. "But should we be reading it without her consent? It is clear she did not give it to you, or else she would have read it to you herself." Attis laughed. "Really? I had not thought." He suddenly blackened and glared at her. "Read it," he commanded, and she complied. "You are in danger, great danger," she started. "Hmpf. After attempts already on her life, I would think she guessed that much," he interrupted contemptuously. Kelle continued. "You are surrounded by enemies. Those you think friend are no such thing. Those you trust would betray you at the slightest whim." "Charming," he commented. "Your Consort even..." Kelle stopped reading and looked up to him. "Are you sure you wish me to continue?" she asked. He nodded. "Your Consort even is against you," Kelle's voice sounded nervous, but she read on. "He follows Cerridwen, and is leader of their pack. I have heard tell that he meets with them in the forest, to breed a new generation of followers of the Crone. He must be stopped. If you will raise not your own hand against him, there are others who will do it for you." Kelle looked up to him, and was suddenly aware that a knife lay on a bench beside him. If the letter were true, she realised that she was in great danger for having read it. "Continue," he ordered. "There is no more," she replied. "Is it not signed?" "No, nor marked on the seal." Attis sat heavily on the bed and put his face in his hands. Kelle sat very still, and tried to decide whether to make a run for the door and cry for help. She gradually realised that tears were trickling down Attis's wrists, even though he made no sound or movement. "Are you alright?" she enquired gently. "Oh, yes. I am leader of my lover's worst enemy, and murderer of small babes and children, but I am just fine," he said with sarcasm. "Has Cybele read the letter?" Kelle asked. He shook his head in reply. "We could accidentally drop it in the fire," she suggested. "Another would follow." "Well, surely Cybele will know it is all a lie when she reads it." "If only it were," he said gloomily, and unlaced his gown to show the wolf-brand emblazoned over his crescent birth-mark. Kelle gasped, but then crossed the hut for a closer look. "Did you recognise the hand?" he asked her. "No. It is clumsily written, but then that could be intentional to disguise the writer." She sat beside him on the bed and handed the letter back to him. "Should we melt back the seal?" she asked. "No," he replied. "I only wanted to read it in case it was a threat against her, for she would not tell me of such a thing. I intended no deception of her, and would not do so now." Kelle reached forward to touch the brand. It was roughly puckered and a little unclear. If it had been seared onto his pale skin elsewhere, it would have been far clearer, but even though it had been filled with woad when new and raw, it was a little disguised over the red of his birthmark. She traced its outline with her finger, and knew that it was indeed the mark of a wolf. "Cabirius wishes to take the mark of Priapus," she said as her fingertip grazed the nipple below his mark. "The Serpent? Like a Herm? Why?" Kelle shrugged and put her finger in her mouth. Attis felt his own serpent writhe beneath his gown. "He read it in a book. That old book he found in the ruined hut of the Chosen One." "That book is sacred. If he wishes to follow its letter, then I wish him all the best in it," Attis said, clearly pleased at his friend's decision. "Perhaps I will do the same myself. I am Consort, after all." Kelle touched his brand again. "Think you one mark may cancel the other?" she asked gently, then let her fingertip fall again to tease his nipple. He caught her hand in his own, and he turned it roughly so that her wrist was bared, then sunk his mouth onto it and she felt sharp teeth almost pierce the skin. She pulled away and he kept hold of it, but looked up to her. His eyes were a little glazed. "Be careful," he warned her in a deep throaty growl. "A wolf is no lapdog to be toyed with." She could resist his unconscious seduction no longer, and tore furiously at his gown. Did he not know the power he possessed? She did not even care if he turned into the most terrifying beast of the forest and killed her in this very bed, but she had to have him. Attis began to breathe deeply, almost panting as Kelle stripped his clothes and her own. Her pregnant belly only aroused him more - perhaps because there was no fear of further conception. He turned her over, and almost against his own will, his throbbing erection took control. As he entered her, he grazed down her back with his sharp fingernails. Red welts raised, and she ridged back against him. He felt possessed, but it was she who made the noises of a wild animal, writhing and hissing as he thrust into her. Even in his semi-trance, he thought to her own pleasure, and reached beneath her to roughly rub her swelling against his phallus as it entered her. She suddenly bucked back and wailed like a cornered cat as her peak surged through her body. He took the cue to spill himself, filling her with a rush of hot seed. It was as though his senses returned as the seed gushed from him, and he pulled from her and hurriedly dressed in his torn gown. "I am sorry," he mumbled to her. "I have marked you, and Cabirius will notice. I am truly sorry." He turned and rushed from the hut, clutching the letter. Kelle collapsed forward onto the bed, pillows supporting her above her swollen belly, and asked herself why. Why had she been so driven to play such a dangerous game?
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