Chapter 3

Clovis sat on his chair with a sour expression on his face. "Tell me again why you cannot do what I want."

Fidelis said with a lot of well-hid worry, "It is not just a matter of what you want Sire. What you want may very well not exist. You require a great many details. If all of them have to be true of one man then this man may never have been born, or will not be born. As a warrior, we may be able to get the great Alexander. He defeated most of the world. The scrolls I read suggest that Alexander may have been a transplanted warrior too. His father had a great many Picts in his employ. They were well known for their ability to perform magic."

"We cannot have him. From all the information we have heard, he would again try to leave us and continue his string of conquests. I need my people and my land safe now."

"You may be right, Sire, but he would have few troops to follow him. He would have to stay here and bring order to our lands before he could venture out. He would know that Rome would be a near and a constant threat. He would try to form an army to defeat them."

"What requests am I asking that you think could be changed, so we find who I am looking for?"

"You ask for a man that speaks our language. Perhaps someone that is only familiar with it, but can learn."

"What else?"

"You ask that he be a great hero and this could be reduced to just a hero. The men will follow him just as well because great heros are too unbelievable."

"Unbelievable? I want you to perform magic and you say this small request is unbelievable? What we are not discussing deserves the term."

"That is very true Sire but the man we seek would truly have an unbelievable amount of knowledge at his disposal. The chances of this happening in just one individual is truly staggering. He has to be a warrior, and an accomplished swordsman who is also able to lead men into well thought out battles. He is a man that knows of sciences beyond our comprehension in order that he can use his arcane knowledge to assist us. You want him to not only understand our tongue but to be sympathetic to our cause."

Clovis retorted, "I see nothing staggering. A true warrior looks to test his skills. If he gets to command some of our warriors he will fight our battles. Understanding our tongue could be learned in time. When the spring comes we will have to fight both legions and their Gallic Auxiliaries. It was you that said that future wars would be different and this knowledge may help us."

"There is not only the finding necessary. There is the burden of the actual transference. You have provided a host in the bargain who requires a very great healing spell. Again the Picts that came to my call mention that the transference and the healing may be combined in some ways to save power. That is the other problem we have. The power required may still be beyond what we can produce. Neither of us want to sacrifice people though others are not so restrained."

"Use animals like you spoke of before. We have the blessing of also eating the flesh. Are you sure of the Picts? The Gauls are part of their nation?"

"Animals have little of this power but we will do what we must. The Picts don't see the Gauls as close."

"Surely you can find more priests or wizards? I hear Britannia is full of them."

"They are mostly hedge wizards with little power or understanding. We have talked amongst ourselves and thought of forming a great call and sending it out to all of those that could hear it. I believe this is what was done for Philip of Macedon. Surely his son was not born as he later acted."

"Time is running out, Priest. If we wait too long, then we will be overrun before our hero can do anything."

"Give me more time Sire. The winter equinox is coming and it is possible that a thunderstorm may blow in though it is rare. The two may be enough to give us the power we need."

"That is too much time. The next storm is all I can do."

"Sire, that is not enough."

"You asked for my protection for your religion and I freely give it. However, if I am dead, then you have no safe haven." Clovis looked at the man and continued, "Did you add something about his beliefs? I want no lies. True priests are not mice that scurry away. They stand and fight for what they want."

It took a moment before the priest said, "I tried to work in that he would not be a religious zealot. An open mind is all I can hope for and perhaps he will see the benefits of the original gods of Rome."

"What else have you put in? You ask me to moderate my terms and I have to know what you wish to accomplish."

Again, there was a pause then the priest said, "For my religion to be safe, we need a strong people. You already have strong arms. Beyond that, I want our hero to bring our people together. That requires a strong and benevolent ruler. You have many years ahead of you. When you die you leave no male issue except your comatose son..."

"I understand. I am in agreement with this, so long as it is not focussed solely on your religion. I am going out on a limb in supporting you. Woden and Thor may not be pleased with what I have done. Our own priests are not happy with your efforts to keep my son alive. They still do not know of this transference or they would raise the people to rebel. They are a thorn in my side that will not go away."

"Your people's beliefs are firmly fixed in each of them. All I wish is the freedom for anyone to pick his own gods. Rome was once this way under the republic. Now, even that simple freedom has been swept away."

Clovis said, "Roman freedom didn't mean much for the Christians and the Jews. They were persecuted intermittently for a long time."

"Only because they chose to put their beliefs above that of the state. If they swore loyalty to the Emperor and didn't preach sedition they would be left alone. They have gained recent strength with the populace because of their new way of teaching. Even now I see the senate bowing to pressure from the common people to follow this strange eastern god with no name and his son on earth."

"Religion gives me a sour feeling in my stomach. Men have used religion to meet their own ends for thousands of years. Many times, it is not the kings that rule, it's the priests. Even my own rule is always seconded by the priests. Neither group usually has the well-being of the people in mind and thinks to aggrandise their own position. This was my central belief in the way I rule. Sometimes the people cannot see that they have to suffer to accomplish lasting good. In the end, they will benefit from it. They are like sheep, but there is nothing that can be done about that. I am only angry that the gods made men this way. They should be strong and pick what they want and go after it."

"Sire, that is good only if all men have the same basic instinct to work together when the time comes. Men also need structure, while retaining the room to work within that structure. Your kingdom is better than most and it is because you make fair laws and a man knows where he stands. What are you going to do if our hero wants to take your people where you do not want to go?"

Clovis had been thinking of this for a long time. Even so, he didn't answer.

"Sire, the hero needs freedom to work. He has to prove himself in battle and in the planning of some of those battles, also. He needs to build the weapons of war and will need materials and men to do this. The Romans learned to defeat the Greek phalanx with their own strategies at the cost of many lost legions. Our hero needs to find a way to defeat what the Romans have discovered. You have built a good army, though surely it will have to change in some ways. You may not agree with many of those changes."

Clovis said, "Do not put deeds to me that have not happened. Our men fight bravely, but not always as a unit. The Romans taught me how they make war and I have taught our men. That is the only reason we are still alive. We used good Roman tactics against the Gauls and then better Roman tactics against the Romans themselves. Thank Thor the Romans had poor leadership. If new strategies come about, they will have to be evaluated and if they are effective, then they will be adopted."

Fidelis was worried now because the king could not control his temper very well. "My question was valid and it is good to hear the answer. Our hero has to be watched and guided, but he must be allowed to grow into his power."

Sam was in the back of the car and said, "Shit, I have never been close to a strike like that. I thought for a second that a mortar team had zeroed in on us."

I was shaking myself, but it was more than being close to an attack. I felt that the storm was after me personally. Logically, that was ridiculous. My reasoning mind seemed to have fled and I was figuratively back to the cave in which our ancestors lived. It was as if a force of nature were controlled subtly by an arcane intelligence. Gods did not exist and neither did magic. There was nothing else that I could come up with that could do this.

There were no more strikes and no rain either. I was ashamed to be the last man out of the car. I knew that the rubber and steel gave me an extra layer of protection.

We cowered inside the bunker like frightened primordials, or at least I did. I had all this high technology around me and I was reduced to acting as if I didn't understand the workings of fire. The sky stayed ominously dark, but quiet without even the customary wind or rain. The old men didn't like being cooped up and soon ventured outside once more.

I was ridiculed about being frightened. Yet, it was only a little while ago that they were frightened too. My rational mind pushed me out. Even when pushed it took me twenty minutes before I was steady enough to use the rifle I signed out to practice with.

It felt safe being in a group. Still, I was apprehensive when I had to go and set up different targets. With a great deal of hidden trepidation, I put my rifle against a rough wall we used to keep off the sun and rain and walked out with a dozen more paper targets.

I crossed the field towards the wood barrier backed by four metres of earth that we used to catch our rounds. The targets would be placed on supports that were another ten metres away. I saw the men talking and they were not paying attention to my movements. When the targets were put in place I started to walk back... but never made it.

I looked up and saw walls that didn't exist around the range. My head hurt something fierce and so did my body. I thought I heard the word, "Gratulatio," but I was not sure. Instead, the pain forced me into unconsciousness.

An indeterminate time later I heard a gruff man's voice say, "Jón, tell me how you feel." The sound was demanding and somehow caring too. I could see nothing. The pain was still present in my head though reduced somewhat.

A young person's voice said, "My head hurts greatly and my skin feels as if I'm on fire." This sound came out as a croak and wondered who had spoken this.

The words were wrong somehow and it took a few seconds to come to the conclusion that both conversations were in a language much like German but not exactly. What was disturbing was that I could understand the language as easily as I did. My grasp of German had been related to day-to-day activities as well as technical matters. I was only getting used to the grammar before I had to leave Germany. The language I now understood was not the same, though it was similar.

The pains the voice talked about were the same afflictions effecting me. It was like listening to a conversation in the darkest room imaginable. My memories told me that I should be on the range, nearby or in a hospital.

"I'll send for the priest."

"I don't want the priest. You should have never allowed his kind to stay here. I would have flogged him and sent him away."

"The priest saved your life in many ways. You should thank him. He went to a great deal of trouble to cure you. Tell me. Do you feel any strange thoughts in your head?"

This was just a conversation that could have been on a radio, but now I was very interested in what was said.

"What kind of strange thoughts?" I heard.

"Strange ideas. People's faces that you see clearly whom you have never met before. Perhaps an odd tongue that you may understand. It may even be a form of combat of which you have not heard. Strange weapons that you have never seen before could be in your dreams."

"I have none of that. I just hurt. I'm very weak and I don't know why. The priest talked to me about this too and he asked similar questions. I think he did something to me. He said that my head was damaged and it was just repaired by magic. He also said that my horse hurt me half a year ago."

"That's true. You rode your new horse that was not well trained and you were thrown. The guards hastened to help and the horse kicked to get away. It struck you as you started to stand."

"Did you kill it? It should die."

"Jón, it is only an animal and one that you insisted on riding against the wishes of those at the stable. If you take a responsibility like that, then you have to accept what happens. You cannot kill every horse that throws its rider. Men are smarter, but they fail too. Do you want to kill everyone that fails?"

"It would make the rest think harder and do what's right."

"Jón, it would make them hate you. One day they would put a knife between your ribs for killing a man's son, or brother. You have to treat them with some measure of respect and they will give some back to you."

"I would still kill them, if they were disloyal."

"There are many levels of disloyalty. Some deserve killing. Most do not."

"When I am king, I will kill them all."

This made me think very hard. This boy's becoming a king should mean that the man speaking to him was a king. Where was I, or was I suffering some kind of delusion? The sound of a door opening was heard then as deep voice with a strange accent. "How is your son doing, Sire?"

The king, whoever he was, said, "He's in pain. Is there something you can do about it?"

"I have a magical draught that will ease the pain. It will also probably put him to sleep. That may be good. He has been awake now for a few straight hours."

"He should stay awake a bit longer to see if you were successful."

"Father," the boy said. "I'm sleepy and the pain really bothers me. Give me what I need."

There was a lengthy pause and the father said, "Give the boy your draught."

"As you command, Sire."

He must have the equipment handy because I heard some noises that went on for a long time. Then, the boy was moved, and curiously I could feel my own body being moved too but the feelings were vague. I could not smell anything, but I could taste the bitter remedy that went into my throat. I thought now about the word magical and something was saying that this may be possible.

I hated the taste just as I could feel someone else hating the taste along with me. My head was put back on a pillow and the father said, "A great deal has passed since you were hurt. The I Noricorum and V Iovia have advanced and closed the circle around your lands. More Gauls have come, seeking Roman gold."

Gauls! Romans! What was going on? He was speaking of two Roman legions that, if my memory served me right, were stationed flanking Germany. Was I going crazy?

"We had a small battle a few weeks ago and we captured nearly six double hands of the Gauls then killed quite a few more Gauls and Romans when we led them into the same trap. We were able to kill only seven Romans, though they seem to know next to nothing of what is going on."

"Kill them, Father. They will never be our allies. Kill the Romans too. You said yourself once that you could never trust them." The last was said with a yawn.

"They may make good slaves, but I think they may provide some pleasant entertainment or some money if they are ransomed."

"I would like to see you flog them. Flog them to death, father. They... deserve... it..."

The boy was going to sleep as I seemed inclined to do, but I fought to stay awake. There was too much to learn to let some sleeping potion take over.

I heard, "It looks like your magical potion is working priest."

"Yes, it does, Sire. Is there any indication of our hero?"

There was no hero, but I was here. I pushed as hard as I could. Whatever I pushed against I was unsure of but I instinctively thought this was the right way to proceed. The result was as if I rose out of a pit. A square of light enlarged until it was very bright. I tried to move my arms, but nothing happened. I regrouped and concentrated on one muscle group at a time and nothing seemed to be happening. I was able to see a small room with similar stone walls that I had seen before. I then saw the faces of two men looking down at me. One had fiery red hair and the other looked darkly Italian.

Meanwhile, the drug was trying to drag me back. I tried to scream that I was here. No sound emerged. Instead, everything went black.

Much later, I woke up slowly to the sound of female voices. They were talking of inconsequential matters and I wished I could see them. The two men I had caught a brief glimpse of were still well-remembered. I could now feel the sheets and wool blanket on the bed and knew that I was sitting up partially.

"We have some fish tonight," came from a young voice.

Another said, "I made some bread especially for you."

The weak voice of the boy I heard before said, "You make the bread too hard and burn it." Strangely a feeling came to me that this was not completely true. The boy wanted to hurt and there was no apparent reason. I could not interface very well with this person, even as I tried very hard to do so. It was much like a diver trying vainly to get to the surface to get a breath of air. I was, thankfully, not quite as frantic.

An older female voice said, "Jón, you are being unkind to your sister. She may have burnt bread a few times, but she makes very good bread now. Before your accident you ate a great deal of it when you could."

I could feel some resentment at being caught. The boy, Jón, managed to hold his tongue saying nothing. More feelings soon came through, as I pushed to learn and feel more. After some additional moments, it became evident that the boy was just horny. When I realised this, the sensations became stronger and I could feel not only the cloth on my body, but the effect of an erection under the sheet.

I was very horny with adolescent hormones coursing through my body until I realised that I may no longer have a body of my own. The boy had his body and I was left with the conclusion that I was some sort of a disembodied hitch hiker. The king had talked of a 'hero' coming to visit his son's body. I questioned my belief in a superior being and that plus my logical reasoning mind said this was not possible. Magic was the same dead end since there was no proof that it existed though I went to sleep more quickly than any drug I had heard of before. There didn't seem to be an alternative. I was here, wherever 'here' might be, and I would have to investigate further.

In the next hour, I learned a few names of the main staff members. Their foibles, challenges and successes were easy to categorise in memory and I could almost see them. The older woman was called 'Mother'. The two female children were Elfrieda and Sieglinde. The females talked of 'Father'. Meanwhile, they also put the name Fidelis to the head priest. Strangely, they didn't talk of a hero or a visitor, they spoke only of a magic spell that cured the boy after a very lengthy time during which he had been comatose. I felt that magic had to be examined more.

The woman and her two children left. In a moment, I heard the door open again and close soundly. The boy, Jón, said, "Help me to the pot, slave."

"Yes, Master," came from a diminutive voice that could have been either male or female.

I felt a chill as the blanket was obviously removed and then hands placed on me as the body was guided to sit on something. It was cold and had to be some sort of ceramic container. I felt the bowels relax and then some exertion on the diaphragm to expel a watery stool.

"Point me down, so I do not spray everywhere."

"Yes, Master."

I felt a small warm hand held onto the penis. This was not done tentatively at all. The stream of urine came next and in a moment another stool was expelled. The hand never left the penis for an instant and I felt the body getting hard again.

Jón was stood up and bent over the bed. The young slave used some dried moss, as that was what it felt like on Jón's butt. I had learned to use this same material when on manoeuvres. When suitably clean, I felt the body being moved back into the bed.

"Not with my head laying down. I want to go back the way I was."

"Yes, Master. I thought you might need to rest."

"Let me do the thinking. You're only a slave." I knew he was being needlessly cruel and cringed internally at the person with which I had somehow been fated to take up residence.

When the body was put down comfortably, Jón said, "Suck me again slave, and make it quick."

The slave said, "Yes, Master," but the voice sounded happy enough to do it. The bed shifted and I felt the erection growing larger and then a warm wet surface over it. I or we, were getting a blow job. This had happened to me a great many times before. Usually they had been the result of Nora doing this to me. The picture of her face flashed into my mind, unfortunately the sensations coming to me blurred it.

These strong feelings were oddly much stronger than I had ever felt before. Even as an excited boy, they had not been this strong. I felt hands holding a head to guide not only the timing, but also the depth. It was not very long until I knew the point of no return was at hand. The head was forced down and the hips pushed up at the same time. The orgasm was explosive.

I had felt a release. It had not been with the use of the prostate. The voice had been young and so must the body. In a few seconds the head was pushed away and I heard, "Cover me. I want to have some sleep. Go to your bed in case I need you again."

"Yes, Master." The sound was not as if he or she was heart broken at the treatment and I wondered if all slaves would be this way.

In a moment, I knew that Jón was asleep and I pushed very hard again to get to the surface. This time I had no drugs to hinder me. It must have been five minutes of agonising effort before I even saw the light once more. It was a few more minutes before I could dimly make out the details of the room.

The eyelids seemed to be the only body part under my control. When I had broken my legs in the accident I had to learn to walk all over again. This time, I used the same ideas to see if I could control the jaw to open the mouth. There was no telling how long Jón would be sleeping, so I pushed very hard to gain what control I could.

Breathing came first as it was a necessity with karate. It must have been ten minutes later that I gained both the jaw and the tongue. I practised a considerable time then said, "Slave." Each time it was progressively louder.

It was a young boy that hurried to my side. He had long reddish blonde hair tied in the back and his face was cute. He had, no doubt, been the one to give me, or rather us, a blow job. That was definitely a first in my book. I had not had any real sex with a male before that moment. I didn't think it was proper. Others could do as they wished in my opinion. The body I inhabited certainly thought this boy very desirable. So desirable, that I began to get hard again even though I just wanted to talk with him.

I heard some soft words and knew that they were in the old dialect of German again. The sounds before must have been filtered through Jón's brain. Now, I had to work, or better yet, see if I could gain control of the speech and language centres.

The boy was smiling at me waiting to get a reply and instead of working to interface with the speech I moved my left arm. It rose slowly and the hand went to the boy but only with a great deal of effort. I was very pleased with this, though I could feel substantial fatigue even with this amount of movement. The slave stayed until the hand came close and I caressed the pretty face. I knew I would not do this normally, but there were a lot of hormones going through the body once more. My adopted body was making me stray into uncharted waters after nearly sixty years.

His skin was smooth and without blemishes. He was either very young, or very lucky. The hair was not clean, yet the face was. I traced his ears with my hand and then his eyes and nose to finally end at his lips, which I caressed with the tips of my shared fingers.

My hand eventually went to the back of his neck. I pulled him close and he didn't resist. When he got close, I felt compelled to give him a kiss and not a brotherly one. This person had just happily given us a blow job and I was stirred up even thinking about it. The boy didn't understand the kiss, but didn't pull away. In a moment his own arms held me and he returned the embrace wholeheartedly.

In another moment I had too much, but the boy simply pulled the covers back and went back to what he had done just a half hour or so before. This time I was able to see the look of love in his eyes and I was able to caress his pretty features. In a moment I was able to use my right hand too, but I didn't force him in any way.

The feelings grew and grew again and I wondered momentarily how and why the sensations were so strong and addicting. This didn't last long. I endeavoured to savour this as long as possible. The boy's head didn't go fast like he did before. He moved slowly to draw out my enjoyment the way I wanted. I had little control of the body I was sharing and when it looked as if I were going to be thrust over the precipice, the boy pulled me back by slowing, or stopping altogether.

I could feel his hands caressing my legs and then very gently the scrotum and testicles. All I was able to do in return was to caress his head as I would a cat or dog that was content to be with me as I sat in my chair at home.

Images went through my head of the women who had pleased me in one way or another. The ones that turned me on the most were more prominent. Every fourth image was of a child, or sometimes a very young woman that I had not seen before. That surprising development had me momentarily worried that I might now focussing on children to have sex.

It was another young boy's image that helped me adjust due to his having a sword and helmet on that I somehow knew belonged to his father. These memories were obviously not all mine. They had to be Jón's.

Instead of going over my own memories, I realised that I had somehow relinquished this process to Jón's brain. I saw all those memory traces that looked exciting and desirable. There were no images of actual sex, just the urge and the imagination of the boy. Nobody, it seemed, had done anything truly sexual with him. It was only the boy now giving me pleasure that had recently started this.

The boy had just been there to take care of Jón's obvious needs. The boy cleaned his body, changed his clothes while generally acting as though he wanted to do what he had been doing. I discovered that when Jón finally awoke, he had been given a sponge bath. This led to an erection and then the act of love to put it back down.

All this was hard to think of because the sensations were coming from my, or rather our, groin and I instinctively flexed this new body to get more penetration. The point eventually came, of course, where I wanted desperately to push the boy's head down on the small erection. I resisted that temptation with all my might.

The long anticipated orgasm at last began coursing through the body I had begun to inhabit. It was the strongest that I ever had and I could hardly believe that such a pleasurable sensation was not even augmented by an adult discharge. The boy seemed to know exactly how to treat me, slowing down just enough to keep me balanced between the edge of joy and the urge to push him off from too much stimulation.

When the orgasm had run its course, I pulled the boy towards my lips and kissed him very tenderly, trying to convey as much affection as he had shown me. He responded to me again and held me as if I were a Ming vase.

When I pulled him away a few centimetres I said, "Thank you. That was very nice, but I don't even know your name."

"It's Forni, Master."

His reply told me that I now understood the language somehow. I had no idea how this had happened. "Forni is a nice name and it is the start of a long word that means to have sex. The name fits you very well. Tell me where we are?"

He looked like this question was very odd and said, "We are in the home of your father."

"What is the name of the city?"

"It is Hildestun, Master."

I didn't recognise the name and asked, "What is the official name of my father?"