Chapter 2: Little Clay Counters

"Wendy! Wendy! Wendy!" The farmer wailed outside her window.

"Fuck! TIM! Do you think he's ever gonna shut up?" Wendy complained, "he's been screaming outside my temple for three fucking days. I'm never going to get any sleep."

"You could answer him." Tim explained, "how are you going to find out what he wants if you stay in here?"

"You know it's the same old shit..." Wendy's voice changed to the voice of a supplicant. "'Help me! The tax collector made me pay twice.'" She changed back to whining to Tim. "You got any idea how often I hear that? Huh? Do you?

"Ten or fifteen times a week! That's how many. Lookit ... I've been keeping track with these little clay pieces. Every time another complainer stops and complains about the taxman I stick another piece in this clay bottle. I even pressed the kings ring on the clay pieces."

She shook it ... it barely rattled it was so full.

Very patiently, Tim explained, "the taxman IS collecting twice ... but the king's storehouse only gets the first collection. You need to talk to the king ... oh mighty sage." He cracked up.

"I tried, the taxman says he's not cheating and I can't prove he is."

"Sure you can. Go seek an audience I'll handle the rest." Tim paused, "you don't particularly like the taxman do you?"

"Fuck no ... he's cutting into my offerings. If I don't get some corn in my larder pretty damn soon ... it's going to be slim pickings. I might have to glean."

"Well, I know where he's keeping the extra but it's well guarded. He can afford to keep feeding his men. The more men he feeds the more soldiers he has.

"Pretty soon, he's going to run the king off and set himself up as His Majesty ... and he never liked you. He wants the old gods back. Their priests give kickbacks." Tim made shooing motions, "go ... arrange an appointment. Tell the king he's being set up."

On a pretty cerulean day, not a cloud in the sky, Wendy met the king and his tax collector. The king arrayed his entire army, all twelve fighting men, nicely ranked, on the city side of the Holy hill The taxman brought his 'enforcement' department, ten armed bullies.

'Well, thought the king, 'there's one for The Wendy. She said his army was almost as big as mine.'

The taxman thought, 'three more men and the kingdom is mine.'

'How do I get this asshole to climb the hill' thought Wendy.

"Wendy? We've been through this before. I'm not collecting double ... I swear on my gods." 'Shit ... why did I say that?'

"Will you both swear you're telling the truth?" asked the king. "The sky is cloudless. Climb the sacred hill, call your gods, let them defend your word."

With every step the taxman cried, "defend me oh mighty gods!" With every step he thought, 'the gods are bullcrap ... it's just crowd control. The king's daddy knew that.'

Step by step, until they reached the top, they labored.

It wasn't much of a hill, not more than 30 feet above the king, really, just a gentle rise.

The taxman wheezed, "You go first. I'm outta breath."

"I'll wait ... I'm in much better shape. You rest. A man shouldn't meet his gods out of breath."

"You know, I'm gonna kill you up here. You're getting in the way." He panted.

"Ain't it the truth."

"What? You know I'm going to kill you ... and you came anyway?"