Aurora Tapestry

Disclaimer: Only In America!

Phelps and his crew of incestuous idiots, evolutionary U-turns and assorted whacko hangers on, can picket gay funerals; Dr. Goebbels' slug-like protégé can ask for and receive press credentials, and sit smirking in the balcony; television evangelists with blow-dried hair and $2,000.00 suits can quote Leviticus, Deuteronomy and St. Paul; BUT YOU MUST NOT READ what follows because it contains/or perhaps contains mildly graphic depictions of sex between consenting males. YOU MUST BE of "legal" age - whatever that is - before you can even consider opening the file! Politicians can whine and wring their hands and tell you how misunderstood they are and change their minds on any issue at least six times, BUT YOU MUST NOT download, print a copy or in any manner possess a copy of this publication because it just might be illegal for you to do so! Move on, then, dear friends, to a safer, more "correct" site and preserve your morals and guard your soul! ONLY IN AMERICA!

Aurora Tapestry is a novel that reflects the mores, customs, and demographics of 1976. I am fully aware of the prevailing rubbish in the gay community and the unfortunate influence of special interest groups. However, I am writing about a different time, a different place, and a different world. DO NOT send me whining e-mails or beat me metaphorically around the head, face, neck and ears because you are a slave to fashion or gullible enough to subscribe to big lies. I have been around the Horn too many times to accept with anything approaching patience, flames or misinformed "social" do-gooders.

My thanks to all who wrote with their comments and to those who "reviewed" my first published work. I knew I was good, but not that good! :) "The Phantom of Aurora" is available as a two-volume novel through the PublishAmerica Website and Amazon, although Amazon seems to be offering each part as a separate purchase. Caveat Emptor.

My thanks as always to Peter whose editing skills grow with every chapter I write. His insight and refusal to let me get away with anything that is less than perfect makes everything I write much better.

I do try to answer all e-mails (except flames) although it may take me a day or three. Work has a habit of interfering with work. Please contact me at paradegi@rogers.com

Aurora Tapestry - Chapter 19

" . . . I am The Phantom of Aurora!"

Tyler, his eyes widened by surprise, pulled back, turned The Phantom around and stared at him. "You . . . you . . .?" he tried to ask, his face pale in the dim light cast by the fixture over the door to the barracks block.

Before Tyler could say anything further through the open window of the Chiefs Mess came a loud, shocked voice. "Madonna!"

The Phantom could not prevent himself from snickering as he remembered his visits to the Chiefs Mess. "Does he still say that when he . . .?" he asked between chuckles.

"He sure does!" Tyler croaked as he struggled to regain his composure. His shock at The Phantom's sudden declaration was quickly replaced by embarrassment from what he had just said.

Val's head popped out of the open window. His dark features were scowling. "You!" he seemed to accuse. Then he grinned wide. "Phantom, you little devil!"

The Phantom looked contrite as he said, "Yes, Val, I'm the one. Please, I'm sorry for what I did. I . . ."

Val's smile widened further. "Yeah, you sure did. Now get in here!"

"I can't go in there," protested The Phantom. "Mark and Tony are in there!"

"Okay, I'm coming out then!" Val disappeared from the window and almost immediately he appeared in the Staff Barracks doorway, magnificently naked.

"Val, you have no clothes on!" exclaimed The Phantom in a hoarse whisper. While he was as shocked as Tyler that he had actually divulged what was, to him, his greatest secret, he could still admire a frankly beautiful young man. The Phantom smiled wanly. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you, because man, you are one Italian Stallion!"

"Yeah, I am," agreed Val. He sat on the stoop and gestured for Tyler to join him. When Tyler was sitting beside him Val fixed his eyes on The Phantom. "Okay, tell!"

"Uh, Val, you're not making this easy," responded The Phantom, unable to take his eyes away from Val's wonderfully proportioned genitals. "I mean, shit, you are . . ."

"Yeah, I am," agreed Val with an easy gracelessness. "I got it, and I'm flaunting it." He leaned forward and pointed his finger at The Phantom. "Now, tell! Everything!"

Speaking softly in fits and starts, and with no aplomb at all, The Phantom outlined his litany of sins. He did not name names - he was determined to never reveal the true scope of his foraging - and even though Val asked probing, deliberate questions, he provided no descriptions and left Val's curiosity even more aroused. The Phantom was again in tears when he finished.

"Well, I will be damned," said Val presently. Then he laughed delightedly. "But you know, if you hadn't come sneaking into the Mess, I'd still be sleeping alone and Tyler would still be a virgin!"

"You don't seem to understand how serious this is," groused The Phantom. "I just told you something that no man would ever admit to another and you make a joke out of it!" He gave Val a disgusted look. His confession was not going the way he thought it would. "I sucked your dick!"

"And made a damn fine job of it!" retorted Val. He continued to laugh at The Phantom's discomfort. "Look, Phantom, yes, what you did was wrong, but you don't hear me complaining, now do you?"

"But . . ."

"Phantom, I could have screamed rape and what would that have got me?" Val shook his head. "Now, I admit that I was surprised, the first time, but damn it, I enjoyed every minute of it! And I wanted more!"

"You got more!" sniped Tyler. "Hell, you lay back and moaned and groaned to beat the band!"

"Fuckin' aye," replied Val, not at all disturbed by Tyler's scowling, thunderous look. He regarded The Phantom. "You showed me something I never realized existed. You also showed me the real me! If it wasn't for what you did I would not have . . ." He turned to look at Tyler, the warmth of his smile evidence of his deep love for the copper-haired Master-At-Arms. "I would not have given a gift of gold."

"And I would not have accepted it," said Tyler, his voice as deep and warm as Val's. He looked at The Phantom. "It's over and done, Phantom. Think no more about it."

For some reason The Phantom felt robbed. This was not the way he thought his "General Confession" should be received and he grumbled away about it.

Val, who could not understand what the fuss was about, suddenly reached out and pulled The Phantom forward, at the same time pushing down his boxers. Then, as The Phantom squalled in protest, Val sucked The Phantom's penis into his mouth, licked the head of The Phantom's dick, and then released him. Val looked up at The Phantom, whose face was a picture of outraged indignation, licked his lips, and whispered, "There! You sucked one of the only three circumcised Sicilian penises in Saskatoon. I've sucked the dick of the Phantom Wanker of Aurora! We're even!"

The Phantom tried to take a step back but since his underwear was bunched around his ankles, he ended up in a heap on the dirt of the barracks yard. "God damn it, Val, I'm supposed to be asking for forgiveness, not getting my dick sucked!"

"You're the one making a big deal out of it," retorted Val. "And be quiet! You're making enough noise to wake the dead!"

The Phantom looked around quickly but saw no curious face peeking around the edge of the slightly ajar door. All he needed was for a curious cadet wondering what was going on in the barracks yard. He struggled to pull up his underpants and mumbled a weak apology.

Val grinned at The Phantom and announced, smiling broadly, "I am not sorry you sucked my dick, and I am not going to forgive something that doesn't need forgiving!" He stood up and reached out his hand. "Now come on, I need a drink." He turned to Tyler, who was staring open mouthed at his lover. "Unless you want to return the favour Phantom gave you as well?"

Struggling to comprehend what he had just witnessed, Tyler shook his head and allowed himself to be led into the Chiefs Mess. Mark and Tony were lying on the top bunks, sleeping soundly. Val raised a finger to his lips and then rummaged in the bottom drawer of his locker. He pulled out a bottle of grappa, waved it at The Phantom and Tyler and then led them out of the Mess and into the washplace.

Val sensed that whatever The Phantom needed to do, whatever he needed to say, required a place where he could not be overheard, and the washplace, with its thick, triple-brick walls and heavy wood doors would keep their conversation from disturbing the sleeping denizens of the adjacent Gunroom. It was a perfect venue for privacy and no one would be near it - or so Val thought - until the bugle roused the sleeping cadets.

After telling The Phantom and Tyler to wait, Val left the washplace, returning with some Melmac cups purloined earlier from the Mess Hall.

"Okay, Phantom, you want to tell me what this is really all about?" Val asked as he poured them all a small drink. He settled himself on the long, battered, wooden bench that flanked the bulkhead opposite the showerheads, sitting with his back against the tiled wall, and asked again, "Well?"

Sitting beside Val, The Phantom took a tentative drink of the clear, liquid fire, grimaced, gagged, and then replied. "There is an Order of Knights that have one purpose, and that is to protect and defend gays. The Gunner is the Chancellor of the Order, and he was supposed to arrange for a ceremony where I would become a Candidate Knight."

"Which didn't happen because he was called away for his aunt's funeral," supplied Tyler as he committed sacrilege, diluting the grappa with cold tap water, and then joined the other two on the bench, sitting on the other side of Val.

"Yes." The Phantom looked thoughtful, and then turned to face Val. "As I explained to Tyler, part of the ceremony is something called the General Confession. I have to confess that I'm a sinner, the idea being, I guess, for the candidate to be free of sin."

Val, who had not bothered to put on any underwear, reached down and scratched his sleeping genitals. "A noble sentiment," he offered with a smile, "but hardly required so far as I'm concerned."

"My sneaking into the Mess and sucking you off, without your permission, it doesn't bother you?" asked The Phantom, amazed at Val's attitude.

"I suppose if I was some sort of a religious fanatic it might," returned Val. "But since I was enjoying what you were doing, I didn't see any reason to complain." He deliberately leered at The Phantom and offered the pale pink head of his penis. "And you do a mean blow job!"

"Really, Val," spat Tyler, blushing. "You can be downright disgusting at times!"

"Balls," sniffed Val. "Are you going to stand there and complain that what Phantom did to you was not enjoyable, that you didn't just spread your legs and moan and wiggle?"

Tyler's blush deepened. "Well, yes, I guess I did do that, because, as you say, Phantom does a mean blow job and . . ."

"And nothing," growled Val. He looked at The Phantom. "You did wrong, yes, but in the doing of it you gave me, and Tyler, and the other guys a hell of a good time. Nobody is complaining, except that they're not getting it anymore, and nobody wants you to bare your soul."

"Val, I appreciate the sentiment, but damn it, I did wrong, and I so want to make amends," protested The Phantom. Laying aside his cup, he looked first at Val, and then at Tyler. "We are brothers. I realize that now. Brothers take care of each other and never, ever, harm each other. They are honest with each other, and open! I was thinking about Sylvain, and Greg, and I realized that I could not call them my brothers if I had this . . . stain on my soul. I confessed everything to The Gunner, but it wasn't the same. I didn't do to him what I did to you, or the others. I had to . . ."

Val glanced at Tyler, who stared at The Phantom and then closed both hands around The Phantom's shoulders. "Listen, Phantom, and please, don't say anything until I've finished."

Nodding, The Phantom agreed to Tyler's request.

"Phantom, all right, you did things that are, in some ways unforgivable. You came into the barracks and yes, you molested them." He held up his hand abruptly. "But, no one complained, no one lodged a complaint, and Val, who was one of the cadets you 'visited', well the only thing he's bitched about is that you stopped coming back! I can only assume that the others you visited would agree with him!"

"But . . ." The Phantom began to protest.

"Shush" ordered Tyler. "You promised to keep your gate closed!"

Once again The Phantom nodded.

"Now, having done that, you then went out and did something so horrible that it was wonderful! You risked your good name, your reputation, your very existence, everything, when you took care of Little Big Man. You demeaned yourself, you debased yourself, and you seduced him into revealing what he really was!"

Val's hand joined Tyler's. "And two days ago you risked your life to save three of your friends, your brothers. You didn't hesitate, you acted, and in the acting you saved Matt, and Joey, and Randy."

"There is nothing to forgive, Phantom," said Tyler firmly. "So far as I am concerned, no sin, no act, you might have committed, needs to be forgiven." He smiled softly. "I've read Shakespeare, I've read the play, and I know the passage. Be you ne'er so vile, you are still my brother. You have said it for Greg, and now you must say it for yourself."

"And while I'm no religious scholar," Val chimed in as he squatted down and rested his back against the tiled wall of the washplace, "it would seem to me that a 'General Confession' is a blanket confession, short on details, long on penance." He snickered. "Mind you, the details might be interesting."

"Perhaps we don't need to know them," retorted Tyler, glaring at Val pointedly.

The Phantom laughed quietly. "Well, then, forgive me, my brothers, for I have sinned. Against you, and against others."

Val made an airy, exaggerated Sign of The Cross in The Phantom's general direction. "You're forgiven. Now, for your penance, you must give! Details, names, dates, who was a moaner and who a groaner." He grinned salaciously. "Who was a basketball player and who was a hockey star?"

Tyler glared at his friend and lover. "Val!" he gasped, even more shocked than when Phantom had told him that he was the night visitor.

"Confession is good for the soul," intoned Val pontifically, "and if you were Catholic you'd know it!" He deliberately rubbed the smooth, warm skin on The Phantom's thigh. "Come on, Phantom, I have a dirty mind . . ."

"And the curiosity of a horny tomcat!" finished Tyler, a disgusted look on his face.

"I manage to set you to purring!" retorted Val. He turned to look at The Phantom. "Come on, Phantom, you're drinking my booze! You could at least tell us how all this started!"

A low, rueful chuckle escaped The Phantom's lips. "I got angry!" he blurted. "I had . . . a friend and . . . please don't laugh, but he wouldn't, well, you know, he just wouldn't . . ."

"Blow you? Let you blow him?" supplied Val. He took a sip of his drink and looked at The Phantom slyly. He was not really all that interested in whom The Phantom had visited, or the details, and his friend might not realize it, but Phantom needed to talk about what he had done, needed to get everything off of his chest. Val was determined that before they returned to their bunks Phantom would tell as much as he needed to tell to cleanse his conscience.

Squirming with embarrassment, The Phantom took a sip of his own drink, and nodded reluctantly. "My friend just wanted to jerk me while I jerked him, and he would never allow me to finish him off. When he got close he'd tell me and I'd have to let go!"

Much to Tyler's continuing disgust, Val continued his salacious assault. "Bummer! Nothin' better that another guy's hand on your dick when you start shootin'!"

Giggling despite his discomfort, The Phantom continued. "Anyway, I decided to sneak over here and see what I could find."

"You came looking for dick," Val pointed out. "This place is full of dicks!"

"In more ways than one," snarled Tyler as he glared sternly at Val.

Ignoring Tyler, Val raised a questioning eyebrow at The Phantom.

Placing his cup of booze on the bench beside him, The Phantom leaned forward and clasped his knees. "At first, to be honest, I was just . . . curious. I'd never fooled around before, except with my friend, and well, I was curious."

"And?" prompted Val.

"I started last summer. The first time it happened the guy woke up and the Duty Hand came calling!" The Phantom shuddered at the memory of his very first nocturnal visit to Heron Spit. "I thought for sure that I was dead meat!"

Tyler looked curiously at The Phantom. "The guy woke up?"

"Yes. He just looked around, looked down at his crotch and then went back to sleep. Then the Duty Hand came in and I rolled under the bunk and hell and sheeit!" He looked directly at Tyler. "Nothing happened!"

Nodding, Tyler confirmed The Phantom's statement. He scratched his chin reflectively. "Do you remember Larry Chambers?" he asked Val.

"Sure. He was the Master-At-Arms last year. Skinny guy, horny all the time, no ass to speak off, but a good head," returned Val.

"Well, Larry gave me a good turnover when I saw him in Victoria. He never mentioned anything about some guy going around doing the cadets and Larry might be a flake but he knew his business. Nobody reported anything!"

"That's why I came back," admitted The Phantom. "I waited, expecting the MPs to be all over the place, but nothing happened. The cadet I played with never reported anything, and neither did the Duty Hand." He looked at Tyler. "And even after I'd come back, and was actually wanking guys, nobody ever said a word. They talked about having a wet dream and made a big joke out of it, but they never claimed that somebody whacked them off and they never made a report about it!"

Val snickered. "Of course not! If you wake up with a strange hand on your dick you either scream blue murder or lie back and enjoy it! If you're a horny, normal guy, you don't want to fuck up a good thing!"

"One of the Twins, I forget which, said much the same thing," responded The Phantom dryly.

"The Twins know?" asked Tyler, his eyes wide. "They know about you?"

"And they know that I did you, and Val!" The Phantom grinned at Tyler. "They managed to catch me, sort of, in the act and Cory told me that he knew something was going on, what with all the banging you were doing on the bulkhead."

"Me? I banged on the bulkhead?" Tyler's eyes widened. "Oh, shit," he swore quietly.

"I told you that you make too much noise," sniped Val. "I'm surprised the whole Gunroom didn't wake up whenever you shot your load!" He gave The Phantom a nudge. "So, did you get to the Twins in your travels?"

"I did not visit the Twins, Val," replied The Phantom truthfully. Neither Val nor Tyler had any need to know about his later relationship with the Twins. "One night Cory heard Tyler again and woke up Todd. They followed me and caught me."

Val suspected that the Twins would not just have settled for a "General Confession" but decided to let the matter drop. "You said that you started last summer?"

"Yes. All I did was wank some guys. This summer I started out doing the same thing, just wanking them, but then, well, I got curious about what it would be like to suck a cock, and I . . . I did."

"Sucked a cock?" asked Tyler rhetorically, his curiosity now aroused. He was intrigued that not once in the two summers that The Phantom had been coming onto the Spit, had anyone complained. "But then," he thought, "I never complained so why should I expect the others to?"

Nodding, The Phantom continued. "Last summer it was just - experimenting? Curiosity? I don't know what to call it. I know I enjoyed doing it, and the guys I did it to enjoyed me doing it." He shrugged expressively. "Last year it was all about me. I derived pleasure from jerking guys. What I did was impersonal, and there were no feelings behind what I did."

"Other than sex," Val pointed out. "What happened? Obviously something happened to change the way you feel. If what you did was so impersonal, just curiosity and experimentation, what happened?"

The Phantom picked up his drink and took a small sip, perhaps to delay his answer as much as giving him another measure of courage to continue. He ducked his head and smiled shyly. "You guys," he whispered.

"Us?" Val looked at Tyler and then back at The Phantom. "What did we do?"

"The generic, all-inclusive 'you guys'," replied The Phantom. "At first, yes, it was all impersonal, a wank, a suck, and one happy cadet when I left each guy. But . . ." he held up his hand. "I started to care about the cadets I visited. I realized that some of them needed, wanted me to visit them. I became friends with them and damn it, I felt great, bringing them pleasure. They were my friends and I wanted them to be as happy as I was."

Tyler blushed as he admitted, "You certainly made me happy!"

"And I'm the tomcat!" sniffed Val. "How many guys did you make happy?" he asked The Phantom.

Sighing deeply, The Phantom replied, "At first, a lot. I sometimes did three guys most nights." He shrugged. "The number varied and at first all I ever did was masturbate them. Most of them, I think, knew what I was doing."

"They did," insisted Val. "I woke up the minute you touched me."

"The first time I, well, I thought it was a dream, or I tried to convince myself that it was a dream, but eventually I realized what had happened," said Tyler. He blew out a long breath. "And when I realized what was happening to me, I wanted it, I wanted it again and again!"

"Of course you did," insisted Val. "I know I wanted it again! Madonna, Phantom, you are one good friend!"

Laughing at Val's not so veiled compliment, The Phantom continued. "Anyway, I thought that it was all just making guys happy. I didn't count on becoming close to them. I didn't count on being accepted as one of you. And when you and the others took me on that sailing trip I couldn't go on. You were my friends, and friends don't go sneaking around in the night doing the nasty with their friends."

"Speaking of which, did you?" asked Val expectantly.

"Did I what?"

"Do the nasty!"

The Phantom turned red. "No, not with . . . No. All I did was either masturbate them, or blow them. I could have, but I didn't."

"But you have, haven't you?" Val put his arm around The Phantom's shoulder. "Come on, the truth."

The Phantom drained the remaining drops of his drink and then gasped and coughed. With a grimace that reflected both the searing effect of the grappa and his discomfort with the recollection, he uttered, "Paul Greene," He had no intention of compromising the Twins, or Ray, or Matt. Let Val and Tyler think what they wanted to think. "I fucked Paul Greene." He stared evenly at Val. "I am not proud of what I did, but it had to be done."

"I was there," Tyler said quietly. "I'm trying to understand the full extent of what you did, and why you did it."

"Paul Greene was, and is danger," returned The Phantom forcefully. "He would have destroyed your life, my life, Val's, hell, anyone who crossed him! You know it, Tyler, you read his letters!"

"What letters?" asked Val.

"He doesn't know?" The Phantom looked at Tyler. "You never told him about the letters?"

"No. I didn't tell anyone else. I felt that the fewer the people who knew about them the less the chance that word would get out." He reached out and caressed Val's cheek. "I should have told you, but I didn't. At the time we weren't together and I didn't know how you would react. Please don't be angry with me."

"We'll talk later," replied Val in a mock-threatening tone. "Now then, Phantom, the whole truth about Paul."

Nodding, The Phantom said, "Paul Greene is a terrorist, a thug, in training. He knows no loyalty except to whatever ideology he follows. I believe that he will, one day, kill if he has to. Paul Greene will destroy you, Tyler, you Val, the Twins, anyone and anything because he hates! He feeds on his hatred and he devours the power he thinks his hatred gives him."

"You've given this a whole lot of thought, haven't you?" asked Tyler, suddenly seeing one of the reasons why Phantom was a natural leader.

"I've thought about it. I've lain awake at night thinking about Paul Greene, and the way he is," confirmed The Phantom. "What I did was no random act. I planned it, and I executed it. It needed to be done, if only to deter him from his course of action."

"Which was?" asked Val.

"Paul knew, knows, that any hint of homosexuality is, and will be, looked upon as an abomination. By making false accusations Paul created an aura of fear! He knew what he was doing. He knew it and he used the way people think about gays! By creating that fear, Paul gained, at least in his own mind, power!"

"But I thought that he was here to recruit adherents to his cockamamie cause!" returned Val. "He wanted recruits!"

"He also wanted power!" countered The Phantom. "He got off on power. He might also have thought that by destroying us that he was undermining the system, the Corps of Cadets, but deep down he got off on power. He thought to use the fear of exposure to make us bend to his will, his power!"

Suddenly, The Phantom felt like lashing out. He clenched his fists and his hand flashed, sending the indestructible Melmac cup flying through the air to bounce off the tiled wall of the washplace.

Both Tyler and Val jumped involuntarily at the force of The Phantom's unexpected outburst. "Holy Jesus, Phantom," exclaimed Tyler.

"I am sick of it!" growled The Phantom, ignoring the Master-At-Arms. "Every day I read the papers, every day I watch the news and every day some nut bar Palestinian is blowing away people, and all in the name of Allah! Some African dictator sends his troops into some butt fuck village in the middle of the jungle and massacres the people, just because they don't belong to his tribe! Planes are hijacked, people are killed, and nobody does anything! Nobody seems to understand that you can't talk to these people, you can't rationalize with these people, and you can't negotiate with these people! God Damn It!"

"Please, Phantom, calm down!" Tyler stroked The Phantom's leg. "It's not so bad as all that!"

"Hell and sheeit!" exploded The Phantom. "Not you as well!"

"What? What do you mean?" asked Tyler, his eyes wide at the vehemence, the fire in The Phantom.

"It is as bad as all that!" responded The Phantom. "People are dying and the politicians dither and dally and discuss. Ottawa wrings its hands and cries crocodile tears and sends some dickhead scampering to the Hudson River Debating Society to hold 'talks'!"

The Phantom was angrier than he had ever been in his life. "Trudeau stands in the House of Commons and spouts about following in the footsteps of that 'Great Peacemaker' Lester B. Pearson, and all the trained seals bark and clap their flippers! He's following in footsteps all right! He's following in the footsteps of Neville Chamberlain and Daladier! Appease, pay them off, don't upset the bad guys because they might come here! Keep it over there, Lord, Keep it over there!"

"Now Phantom, you're exaggerating," temporized Tyler.

"I am not!" The Phantom glared at his friend and grimaced. "Gerald Ford, the President of the fucking United States, the leader of the fucking free world, stands there and says we aren't fighting wars that are not our business! Washington is filled with yellow-streaked liberals who would rather turn their backs than show their balls! Nobody understands that you have to deal with terrorists, with thugs, with your fists! They fight dirty so you fight dirtier! And I am one fucking dirty fighter!"

"I think you proved that," observed Val dryly.

"Fuckin' aye," returned The Phantom. "What pisses me off is that nobody learns by their mistakes! They can't see that you have to deal with people like Paul Greene in a way that gets their attention and also shows them that you won't allow them to go on they way they are. Paul would have destroyed us all and laughed in our faces as he did it! He could not be spoken to, or reasoned with, so I found a way to make sure that he would never dare open his mouth about what happened here, what he thought was happening here!"

"You taught him a lesson," said Val. "You stopped him."

A sad look came into The Phantom's eyes. "So far as we are concerned, yes."

"There's more?" asked Tyler.

"Paul got off on the power he held over us, or thought he did. He created fear, and for a while he was winning. I went into his barracks and I molested him. I sucked his dick and I fucked his ass. I allowed him to do the same to me, I gave him free reign and in the morning, in the daylight he realized what he had done. The Twins confronted him and now he knew fear. He knew that the Twins would not hesitate to expose him. He backed down."

"Why do I get the feeling there's more to this story that you're telling us?" Val looked quizzically at The Phantom. "Well?"

"Val, I never hated Paul Greene. I had no feelings for him. He was an annoyance and then he became a danger to my friends, friends who, in some cases, returned the feelings I had for them."

"You mean that they, um, they . . .?" began Val, his eyes wide.

"Yes. Some did," replied The Phantom with brutal honesty. "They returned the love I gave them. I would not, could not betray their love, and I would not allow Paul to denigrate or belittle that love. I did what I did. Sadly, I didn't do as good a job as I thought I had."

"Which means?" Tyler leaned forward. "Paul did something, didn't he?"

"Yes." He looked at Tyler. "What you don't know is that Paul raped someone."

The cup that Tyler had been holding clattered to the deck. "Raped?" he whispered. "Raped?"

"Do you remember the civilian that Brian had the fistfight with?"

"The guy with the tattoo?" ventured Val.

"Yes. His name is Logan Hartsfield. He came on board as part of the civilian work party hired to dhobey up the ship. While everybody was on the parade square playing silly buggers Paul skived off and hid in his barracks. He caught Logan rifling the lockers, looking to steal something and he forced Logan to have sex with him! I raped Paul, I admit it, but I did it because it was the only way to make him back off. Paul raped Logan because it gave him the sense of well-being and power he needed."

"Let's get one thing straight, Phantom Lascelles, you did not rape Paul Greene!" snapped Tyler angrily.

"You can't rape the willing," said Val, his tone softer. "You did what you did out of love for your friends. Paul did what he did to demonstrate just how evil he truly is!"

"Please don't give me credit where none is due," replied The Phantom. "I raped Paul, and I have to live with it. My motives were not pure, and I certainly did not enjoy the experience." The Phantom straightened his back and stated firmly, "I was not interested in gaining power over Paul Greene! I did want to gain a measure of control over him, and I admit that. What I wanted was for him to back off, to go away, and never bother my friends again! I wanted him to know that now someone knew his secret and, if necessary, would use that knowledge." He snorted disdainfully. "Paul Greene is a danger, yes. But once the Twins threatened him with his own words . . ."

"How did they do that?" asked Val, very interested in Paul Greene and his secret.

Unable to stop himself, The Phantom snickered. "We, I, had a tape recorder. I recorded everything, and I mean everything, that happened that night."

"Now that is a tape I would like to hear!" opined Val.

"You can't. The Twins gave their word. Nobody hears it unless Paul breaks the bond he made with the Twins. So long as we have the tape Paul is no danger to you, Tyler, to you Val, to the Twins, to all of the cadets here! The Twins will keep their word. I will keep my word and so long as Paul leaves us alone, so long as he stays away from me and mine, I want nothing more to do with him!"

"But you did seek the power to restrain the little bastard," responded Tyler phlegmatically. "You derived no pleasure, sought no true sense of power."

"True," admitted The Phantom reluctantly. "I only wanted him to go away. If I never see him again, or hear about him, it will be too soon!"

"I agree," said Tyler blandly. "But Paul, while he will not bother us again because he won't risk exposure of his homosexuality, gets off on power. You saw him when he was here. We made him a Petty Officer and we gave him the responsibility, the power if you will, that comes with rank and you both saw how he acted. That little prick used what we gave him to terrorize!"

"And he will go on doing it," observed Val with a sneer. "Whatever organization that controls him will know what he is like, will use what he is, and give him what he needs. If you ask me Little Big Man, that sumbitch, gets off on hurting people."

"Yes, he does," agreed Tyler. "He hates himself, true, but he also loves the power he derives from his actions. He creates an atmosphere of fear and feeds off of it. Sadly, he knows what he's doing and he doesn't care about the wreckage he leaves behind."

"Fortunately, in this case there was someone around to pick up the pieces." A whimsical smile crossed The Phantom's face. "Brian ran into Logan in Comox and helped him. Then Brian came to see me. I went to see . . . I went to see someone who could help and when Logan left town, and went to Victoria, there were people there to be with him, to help him."

"The Order?" asked Tyler, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes. The Order," replied The Phantom.

Val squirmed and regarded The Phantom seriously. "I think it's time you told me about this Order of yours."

Glancing at Tyler, The Phantom gave him an enquiring look. Tyler returned a slight shrug, which The Phantom took as a sign that there was no harm in talking to Val. He was, after all, a brother, and, since he had become Tyler's lover, a member of the special Brotherhood.

"Well, first of all, it's called the Sovereign and Noble Order of Saint John of the Cross of Acre," began The Phantom. "It was founded by three knights, who were gay. The first priory was established in Acre in 1105."

"Eight hundred odd years," supplied Tyler. "Strange that no one has ever heard of it. I certainly didn't, until The Gunner told me about it."

Tyler's remark caused Val to snort cynically. "Not strange when you think about it," he said. "How many guys, in an Order, or out of it, are going to proclaim to the world that they're gay? In some parts of this world you might as well paint a target on your forehead!"

"Which is why the Order has remained more or less secret," responded The Phantom. "The Gunner, and later the Proctor, told me that the Order works in the shadows, helping gay men who, through no fault of their own, are oppressed, thrown in jail, and so on. Nowadays they usually provide legal funding, and moral support."

Val thought a moment. "Why is The Gunner involved? Do you have to be gay to be a member?"

The Phantom shook his head. "There are two divisions. Gay knights are called 'Professed', which means that they have professed, in front of their peers, that they are gay. That's what I would have done had the ceremony come off." The Phantom would not reveal that The Gunner was a Professed Knight so he finished enigmatically, "The Gunner is in charge of recruiting new members."

Tyler scratched his chest absently. "Then the other 'division' would be for non-gay men, those who sympathise, for whatever reason, with gays?"

"Yes," replied The Phantom. "It is also a Christian Order, which sort of pisses me off as I want Sandro to be a part of us, and of the Order."

"Sandro?" Val's eyebrows rose high. "Sandro is like us?"

"Your powers of observation leave a great deal to be desired," observed Tyler acidly. "And you had the nerve to tell me that I was the one who couldn't see the forest for the trees!"

"Some of us have better things to do than checking out our friends' sex lives!" returned Val. "Anyway, Sandro?"

"Sandro had sex with Nathan . . ." began The Phantom.

"Big surprise!" growled Val. "I like Nathan, but I do wish he'd be a little more, um, discreet! Hell, he's been pounding Fred's ass every chance he gets!"

Groaning softly, The Phantom said, "Don't I know it! Chef is that pissed off at them using the back seat of Mark's car every bloody night!"

"Chef knows?" asked Val, truly surprised.

"He knows," confirmed The Phantom. "But for several good reasons he doesn't say too much." The Phantom was choosing his words carefully. Chef, as Proctor, wanted his role kept secret until the time came for him to speak to each cadet being considered for Candidate Knighthood. "Anyway, Sandro and Nathan got together after the Mess Dinner. From what I could gather Sandro gave as good as he got and was strutting around like a rooster in a chicken-run filled with freshly ravaged biddies! He was really quite proud of himself."

Val smiled fondly at Tyler, who blushed. "Well, Phantom, I can't fault him there. It really is a quite glorious experience."

"Yeah," breathed The Phantom, remembering his time with the Twins, and his times with The Gunner. And Colin. "I've often wondered how many guys make love to another guy, and then spend the rest of their lives wondering about it, and regretting that they never did it again."

"More than let on," said Tyler. "Getting it on with your best friend, or best buddy, is almost of Rite of Passage, if you know what I mean."

Both Val and The Phantom nodded their agreement. "Well, Sandro is a great guy, and I would like to see him as a Knight. He knows that he's gay, and he's got balls," declared The Phantom firmly.

"But, at the end of the day, he's still Jewish," replied Val.

"Yes," agreed The Phantom. "When he came back, after being with Nathan, and then being with Chad . . ."

Both Tyler and Val all but shouted, "Chad?"

The Phantom shushed both cadets. "Yes, Chad. I thought you knew!"

"Well, I sure didn't," said Tyler.

"And you were busting my balls about my powers of observation," sniffed Val disdainfully.

"Did you know about Sandro and Chad?" demanded Tyler.

"Well, no, I didn't," admitted Val.

"Game, set and match," returned Tyler with a slight sneer. He looked at The Phantom. "So, Chad and Sandro got it on."

The Phantom nodded. "Sandro not only got it on, he fell in love!" After retrieving his cup The Phantom hunkered down beside Val and held it out for a refill. He took a sip of the lung-searing grappa, and continued, "Sandro fell head over heels in love with Chad. He's hurting since Chad went home, although he hides his feelings well."

"He couldn't have found a nice Jewish boy?" asked Tyler as he joined The Phantom and Val on the washplace floor. "Chad is a nice guy, but I've heard some stories about him. He's not exactly a candidate for the virgin of the month club."

"That's not the point," The Phantom observed tartly. "What matters is that Sandro has known the love of another boy. He knows what it's like to be loved, and he considers us his brothers. He would make an ideal knight, I think, and I'm going to have to talk to . . . someone about making it possible for non-Christians to join the Order."

"The Gunner?" posited Val, whose powers of observation were keener than Tyler knew.

The Phantom, who had actually been thinking of Chef, shook his head, no. "He's the Chancellor of the Order, and I suppose he'd have to become involved at some stage, but I know someone else who is very high in the Council of Knights. There's no point in starting a cat fight, going off half-cocked, and I'd like to know what others think about it first."

"Well, if I were a knight, and if I were on the Council, I think I would say yes." Tyler nodded his affirmation. "Yes, definitely. Sandro is good people and should not be barred simply because he's not a Christian."

The Phantom looked at Val questioningly. "Well?"

Val looked surprised. "Why ask me? I'm not a knight."

"Not yet," replied The Phantom enigmatically. "But if you were a knight, would you support Sandro's candidacy?"

Val raised his head, his eyes sad and looked at The Phantom. Being a Son of the Church, Val had spent far too many Sunday mornings listening to the Church's proscriptions and denunciations against Jews. Growing up in a neighbourhood filled with Sons of the Church had reinforced the teachings of the Vatican: Jews were abominations, and had killed The Christ. God, who was Catholic, condemned the Jews and while the Church might celebrate the Feast of the Circumcision every 1st of January, the Curia conveniently forgot that Jesus Christ was a Jew.

Neither The Phantom nor Tyler failed to notice Val's hesitation. The Phantom placed his hand on Val's leg and rubbed gently, feeling the rough black hair and smooth, warm skin. "Doubts?" he asked quietly.

Sighing, Val smiled unhappily. "I was just thinking that until now I was never asked about how I felt about Jews. I was expected to parrot the party line - the Church's line - about them. In church, in school, before I could really understand anything, I was fed a line of bullshit about how they were different, dirty, venal and just plain bad."

"The stereotypical Jew," replied The Phantom. "I had some of the same crap jammed down my throat. But it's not true, is it?"

"No," agreed Val. "Suddenly I'm starting to understand things differently. I am starting to think for myself and I realize that for a good portion of my life I believed the myths, the discrimination, the Word!" He reached over and passed his hand along The Phantom's genitals. "A year ago, a month ago, I would never have done this because that would have been queer. Touching, holding, kissing, another guy was queer!"

"And now?" asked Tyler. He leaned over and kissed Val gently. His hand drifted down to clasp the not quite so biggest of only three circumcised Sicilian penises in Saskatoon.

Strangely, Val felt nothing sexual in his friends' actions. He reached to hold both The Phantom and Tyler. "Now I doubt everything I was told. Gays were bad, but the Twins are beautiful and good and honourable. Phantom is all of those and more. And so are you, Tyler. In you I have a gift, a gift to hold forever."

"All of which means?" asked The Phantom.

"It means that for too long I allowed myself to be persuaded by others, influenced by the opinions of others. Instead of judging each individual on who he was, I let the teachings of my childhood rule my thoughts and actions and so, Phantom, I confess that I hesitated about Sandro because of those teachings." He looked into The Phantom's emerald eyes and smiled. "So, you see, I too have made a confession."

"And I would have thought that sitting in a bathroom, with my hand on another guy's dick, was despicable and horrible," added Tyler. "But you know, it feels kind of nice."

"And we all laugh when the Twins sit on the porch with their hands down each other's underpants," sniffed Val. "I personally like what I'm feeling. I don't feel like I want to get laid. I feel like I'm sitting with two of the greatest guys in my life, holding them, feeling their strength and love."

"Which is what Cory and Todd feel," said The Phantom. He giggled. "And this does feel nice."

"Yeah," breathed Val. Then he looked serious again. "Sandro is one of us and I agree, Phantom, that if the Order wants me, they'd better be willing to take my brother!"

"Fuckin' aye," growled The Phantom in agreement. "I'm glad I put his name on the list!"

"What list?" asked Tyler, staring at The Phantom.

"The Gunner had a list of names, names of cadets, and men, he thought would make possible candidates for knighthood. I saw it and I added some names." He smiled smugly. "Your name was on the list, Tyler, and Val's."

"But Phantom, how could The Gunner put my name on the list?" asked Tyler. "He can't know that Val and I are lovers! He can't possibly know that I'm gay."

"I wouldn't be too sure," replied The Phantom with a grin. "He's the Chancellor of the Order and he sees and hears a lot about a lot of guys. He was making a list of guys he felt would be sympathetic. He had no idea that you and Val had discovered each other."

"Ours were not the only names?" asked Val, frankly probing.

"There were others," replied The Phantom.

"Guys you made it with?" hinted Val.

"Some, yes," admitted The Phantom. He grinned at Val. "And I am still not telling you who they were."

"Damn," grumbled Val in pretended exasperation, although he was becoming curious.

"The Gunner had no way of knowing about any of the names on his list. My guess is that he still does not know about you two. He was working on the premise that you don't have to be gay to be a knight, just sympathetic to gays, willing to put your money and your muscle where your mouth is, and be circumcised."

" . . . So you see, Logan, one must make a small sacrifice," Laurence said in reply to Logan's probing question. "It is completely voluntary and no one thinks any the less if one balks at the procedure."

"One simply does not become a knight, or even be considered for membership," stated Logan firmly, unconsciously emulating his mentor's tone and pattern of speech.

Laurence smiled inwardly. The more time he spent with the young Canadian the more Logan took on certain characteristics. His language was suddenly more formal, and he now took time to think before he said anything. There was more truth in the phrase that imitation was the finest form of compliment, although Laurence felt that Logan did not really understand or realize his subtle transformation.

They were lying deep within the Crown lands to the north and west of the compound. Laurence had set a heavy, man-killing pace in Logan's training and the boy's initial grumbling had turned, albeit slowly, to quiet determination. He was determined to learn, and to become what Laurence wanted him to become. Logan was no longer a child of the streets. He was almost a hard, professional soldier.

The training regimen that Laurence set Logan to doing was hard, but Laurence was with him every inch of the way, whether it was firing small arms in the basement range of the house, swimming laps in the pool or sneaking through the dark forests, setting man traps and reconnoitring and observing the roving security patrols. Laurence was training Logan hard, with no quarter asked or given, in covert ops, infiltration, anti-terrorist tactics, radio procedures and now, living off the land.

They were camped in a small clearing with only the barest of fires lighting the night's gloom. They had worked their way through the dense underbrush and now they were resting. They had established camp beside a small stream, heated some water and washed as much of the day's grime away as they could - the stream was much too shallow for bathing - and shaved. Dinner had been pre-packaged, barely edible meals, military rations, heated over a small fire. Under ordinary circumstances they would not have built a fire at all, but since the forests surrounding them were more or less alive with campers, Laurence allowed the fire.

After washing and shaving they had stripped off and rinsed their combats and soiled underpants in the stream. Now, changed into clean underpants and T-shirts, a rumpled green T-shirt and boxers for Laurence, tighty-whiteys for Logan. They lay outside their tent, lying beside the fire. They would be sleeping rough, with only a blanket and whatever pine boughs they could gather to form a mattress. The tent, small and compact, was a luxury they would enjoy for this training period only. Later, if time allowed, Logan would be taught how to sleep rougher still, with nothing but his wits and whatever nature provided for cover. He would also learn what it was like to scrounge for their food. Logan had thus far been an enthusiastic student and Laurence wondered how he would react to tree grubs.

As a good student, Logan asked many questions, and learned quickly. He had stopped complaining, and now wanted answers to some of his questions. His most frequent question was, Why?

Laurence had tried to explain that Michael had seen something in Logan and was determined to bring the young man to his best potential. Just what Michael had in mind for Logan, Laurence did not know, and he was honest enough to admit it to Logan. Logan had then asked about the Order.

Carefully, Laurence had told Logan what he could. He did not hesitate when it came to explaining that one of the requirements was medical circumcision. Logan had not balked, as some would, and merely expressed his curiosity on the subject.

"What I don't understand, sir, and please forgive me, for I mean no disrespect," began Logan, "but why circumcision?"

"Why not?" returned Laurence. "For the Jews it is a sign of the Covenant they have with God. For the knights, it is a sign of the Covenant between brothers."

"No, that's not what I mean," said Logan as he slipped his hands under the leg bands of his briefs. He winced at the chafed flesh under the elastic banding. "You didn't by any chance bring some baby powder, did you, sir?"

Laurence smiled knowingly. "No. Another lesson learned. I apologize for not suggesting boxer underpants."

"Too late now," replied Logan. "Anyway, why circumcision?"

"It has always been something special, Logan. Only a very few males were circumcised outside of the Jewish religion. For the Jews, it was a return to God, a confirmation of their Covenant and a reaffirmation that man was created in the image of God, or Yahweh."

"Pardon?"

"Logan, Adam was created in the Image of God. He was born without a foreskin. When he was expelled from the Garden of Eden, he took to wearing a fig leaf to symbolize that he was no longer close to God. The foreskin, or orlah, is a barrier in the way of a beneficial result, in this case the return to God's love. Adam's sons, which are all mankind, were thereafter born with foreskins, symbolizing their separation from God."

Logan, whose religious training had been sketchy at best, remembered some long ago class in Sunday school. "Sort of like Original Sin?"

"I suppose so," replied Laurence, thinking. "When God judged the time right, that man could finally surmount sin, as demonstrated by Abraham, He commanded that Abraham remove the orlah, the barrier or as it is sometimes called, the defilement, between Him and his Chosen people. Hence, circumcision."

"Which the Christians replaced with baptism."

"In essence, yes. To be forgiven the original sin of Adam, one has to be baptized." Laurence chuckled mirthlessly. "Of course, being Christians the early Disciples believed in the literal word of Jesus Christ and also felt it necessary to emulate Him in every way. As they were also all Jews, they decreed that a convert first had to be circumcised, and then baptized. Being pragmatists, they also realized that in order for their new religion to survive they needed to attract converts, powerful converts."

"The Romans," stated Logan, who stilled retained some vestiges of his admittedly sporadic education.

"When the early Christians tried to convert the pagans, that is the Romans, they ran into a stumbling block with regard to circumcision, which the early Disciples thought necessary - a convert had to become a Jew, then he could be baptized." Laurence's laughter turned cynical. "Unfortunately, the Romans looked upon the Jews as a conquered people and they would never 'lower' themselves to the level of slaves, for they were Romans after all. To solve the problem Saint Paul had a very convenient vision, wrote an Epistle, and now God said that you didn't have to be circumcised!"

Logan laughed heartily. "Which shows up the basic hypocrisy of the Christian churches! If there's something you don't like, you have a vision and everything's fine!"

"So long as you give the people you are trying to convert what they want, yes," replied Laurence. "Religion plays a great part in the lives of many people and they are prepared to believe anything their leaders preach. You need only turn on your television any Sunday morning and listen to the evangelists spouting their nonsense. Look at the faces in the congregation. Once you see those faces you can understand why there are sects that think snake handling is next to Godliness!"

"And the Order?"

Laurence looked at his student. "A symbolic gesture between knights, a symbol of the Covenant of the Outcast, as it was once called. There can be no compromise, Logan, no circumcisions of the heart. There will be no 'visions' on the road to Tarsus."

Logan sat up and stared into the embers of the dying fire. "Can I be honest with you," he asked quietly.

"Of course," replied Laurence confidently. "I am your mentor, your teacher and, I hope, your friend."

"You've explained about circumcision in the Order. I understand the symbolism of it, and I agree with it. What I want to know is what else I'd have to do."

The look on Logan's face told Laurence what the real question was. "Other than profess, one way or the other, nothing. You swear to abide by the Rule of the Order, live a life of honour and respect, and help your brothers and nothing more. If you choose to enter into a relationship you are asked to be discreet."

"I won't have to become somebody's bum boy?"

Laurence grimaced. "A crude expression, and no, you will not be asked, required or in any way coerced, into a sexual situation with anyone. The only restriction would be if you were a paedophile. The Order will not countenance sex between men and young boys or underage girls. Whatever your sexuality, be it homosexual or heterosexual, everything you do must be consensual, and within the bounds of propriety."

Stirring, Laurence put a few more twigs on the fire and then looked at Logan. "Noel, the footman who suggested 'helping you out', is not an example of a knight. He is not, in fact, a candidate. He is now, in fact, nothing more that a discharged servant."

Logan's eyes widened. "He was fired?"

Laurence nodded.

"Hell, I mean, uh, I didn't mean to get him fired!"

Resuming his place, Laurence poked the growing fire with a small branch. "You did not have all that much to do with Noel's leaving the compound. There were other things that influenced the decision to separate him." He smiled thinly at Logan. "If it is any consolation, he was amply rewarded and in truth he was happy to go. He was having second thoughts about the Order as it was, and would have left of his own accord sooner rather than later."

Logan lay back and unconsciously slipped his hand into his briefs. "When you say 'profess' you mean declaring that you're gay?"

"Yes. Remember that gay men, for gay men, founded the Order. It does all of its work within what is commonly called the 'gay community'. The Order has endured for over 800 years and while it has always accepted heterosexual members, the vast majority of the Roll of Knights has always been homosexual."

For a long while Logan remained silent. Then he whispered into the dark night, "I think I am."

"Think, or know?" asked Laurence. "You must be very clear in your mind, in your heart, Logan, as to who, and what you are."

"Sir, where I grew up, I was the town bad boy. My father was the town drunk. I lived in a trailer park, for Christ's sake, and everybody thought I'd never amount to anything!"

"I know, and what does that have to do with you being gay?" asked Laurence gently. Logan was about to unburden his soul and Laurence wanted to take great care in helping the young man to do so. "One can live in a palace and be gay, you know."

"I know that," returned Logan, somewhat impatiently. "What I mean is, I never really had the chance to find out what I was! Nice people thought that I was nothing more than trailer trash. Their kids looked at me and sneered at my clothes, at the way I talked. Nobody bothered to find out what I was really like!"

"So you rebelled, drank, took drugs, smoked, and gave credence to the opinions others had of you."

Logan did not fully understand what Laurence was talking about, but understood enough. "I was trash, so I acted liked trash," he declared honestly. "I got into trouble, and I've been in jail. Nice kids didn't want to have anything to do with me, and the only girls I ever fucked were the town mattresses. They did it with everyone, so much so that I was the only guy around that would fuck them! Nice boys used them and then walked away."

"Which has nothing to do with your sexuality, or your perception of that sexuality," replied Laurence. "As the odd man out you were never given the opportunity to explore those secret feelings that you obviously had."

"You know, then?"

"Of course. Logan, every boy goes through a period of experimentation, of exploration and wondering about themselves, wondering what it would be like to feel another boy's penis, to have him feel yours. It is called puberty. I went through it. I had the opportunity to explore my feelings."

"I didn't," responded Logan. "Oh, I did fool around, once, with one of the other boys who lived in the park, but after he moved away, I didn't do anything. I wanted to . . ." he turned his sad eyes to Laurence and smiled wanly. "The other boys made fun of me because I wasn't like them. They laughed at my dick and the girls, well, they all knew about me and one of them told me that she wouldn't touch me because of 'the skin'."

"Which still does not have any bearing on your being homosexual," replied Laurence. "And I was made fun of at school. The boys called me 'Clipped-Cock'."

"You're kidding me!"

"Not at all," replied Laurence easily. "In England circumcision is not routine, and very few boys are. Most of those who are circumcised come from the upper classes - and the Royal Family. The Chief Rabbi visited the Prince of Wales a few days after his birth. His brothers had to make do with one of the Royal surgeons. The upper classes merely followed the Royal example, although not all did. The vast majority of English boys are not given the 'gift for life'."

Nodding, Logan snorted. "Here, in Canada, just about everybody is, you know." He shook his head slowly. "Except me! The other boys made fun of me and called me 'Indian Dick'!"

"Sadly, school boys can be vicious creatures," replied Laurence with a mournful smile. "I was the odd man out at my public school, so I can sympathise with you."

"Bastards," snarled Logan. Then he smiled shyly at Laurence. "I did wonder about you, though."

"In truth there is nothing to wonder about. My mother insisted that my brothers and I be circumcised because she was raised in a Victorian household, a traditionalist household, and as her father and her brothers had been circumcised so were her sons. My father balked, being a low class twit, but Mum ruled the house! Here, now, routine infant circumcision is considered the norm. Sadly, there is a growing movement composed of zealots and anti-Semites who oppose the practice. The movement is well organized and growing in influence. Just as sadly the medical fraternity, which should know better, has started to jump on board."

"More fools them," retorted Logan. "I know what I want, and one day I'll have it. If I ever have a son, he'll be circumcised, if only because it looks better, and is sure as hell is a lot cleaner!"

"That will be your decision," replied Laurence. "What you do with your body, or in the best interests of your son, or sons, is up to you. Only you can decide who you are, what you are, and what is best for you."

"Including being gay?"

"Logan, you cannot simply decide one morning that you are gay. I personally believe that one is born gay. One cannot help it. You can experiment, yes, and determine if your homosexuality is real. I can only tell you that when I was very young I knew that I was homosexual. I was not interested in girls, only boys. I delighted in seeing my school chums naked. I enjoyed playing with my friends. I was, I think, ten when I had my first experience. I have had several experiences since then, and I never regretted having them. You, on the other hand, have only had one juvenile experience."

"I was a prostitute, sir! I sold my dick to guys. Doesn't that count?"

"Did you do it out of economic necessity or because you enjoyed doing it?"

"At first, I needed the money. Then I wanted it, I wanted to have my dick sucked by another guy!"

"That only proves that you enjoyed being fellated," replied Laurence calmly. He eyed Logan carefully. The young man was quite handsome, stunning in a rough-hewn sort of way, well muscled in the chest and the legs, with a fine behind. His hair, black and curling, was stunning, as was the massive tattoo of a Spanish galleon in full sail on his chest. Logan was very well endowed as well. Not at all a bad catch. Dismissing any thoughts of Logan's beauty from his mind, Laurence continued. "I served with several men who thought the ultimate sexual experience was being fellated."

"By another man, sir?" snapped Logan.

Smiling inwardly, Laurence shrugged. Logan, for all his desperation and frustration over his sexuality, remembered their first meeting. "I never enquired," he said, his voice never changing. "When I was in Vietnam I also knew that many of my mates visited the whorehouses and only went there for what is commonly called a blow job."

Logan glanced at Laurence and then looked quickly away. The Englishman was very handsome, an obvious stud. Then he shook his head, as if to rid his mind of the thoughts he was thinking. "The last time I went to Harkness Bay, a man offered me money to fuck him in the ass. I didn't go with him."

"Why?"

"I . . . um . . ." Logan's features darkened slightly. "He was old." He stopped speaking abruptly.

"Which only proves that anal intercourse with another man depends on his age. You did not find an old man attractive. Would you have gone with a younger man, a man your own age?"

"Yes, I would have. I wanted to," admitted Logan truthfully. "But I didn't. Another guy came along and I . . . I took his money and then I left. I stopped to get something to eat and while I was eating I got to thinking about what I'd done and slopped mustard all over myself." He giggled slightly. "Of course, that's the start of how I met Brian."

"The young man who fought with you and, in a way, rescued you."

"Yes. He was the first person who took an interest in me, who wanted to help me," replied Logan with some emotion. "He never asked for anything, never seemed to want anything other than for me to be happy. All the way down on the bus to Victoria I thought about him."

Laurence stood up and began to bank the fire. "And in thinking of Brian you began to think about your feelings towards him?"

"Yes." Logan pulled himself upright and arranged his blanket over the bed of pine boughs they had made. He then crawled into the tent and settled down for the night.

After securing the area, Laurence joined Logan. He was not unaccustomed to sleeping this way. He had done it many times before, during training exercises back home, and in the jungles of Vietnam. He could feel Logan's warm body against his and remembered with fondness those times.

"Is Brian a knight, sir?" asked Logan suddenly.

"Not yet. His name is on the list," Laurence paused, and added, "As is yours." He could almost hear the smile that creased Logan's face. "Of course, you must be sponsored, and prove that you are worthy of becoming a member of the Order."

"You're not too uncomfortable, sir?" asked Logan. "And will you be my sponsor?"

"I am quite comfortable. In Vietnam sleeping under the stars was quite the thing, don't ye know. Sharing a sleeping hole with a mate was also quite the norm. As for being your sponsor, I am considering it." He felt Logan's body shift slightly, pressing closer. "Now go to sleep, young Logan. Tomorrow we shall play a different game."

"Sir?" There was a note of trepidation in Logan's voice.

Hastily, Laurence, who wanted the young man to be completely at ease, said, "We are going to play a little game with the inside security forces. They seem to think that their defences are impregnable. I intend to prove them wrong."

A low chuckle escaped Logan's throat. "I can't wait to see Mr. Michael's reaction."

Sleep would not come to Laurence and he was debating on getting up and restarting the fire when he felt Logan's hand on his shoulder.

"Sir?"

"I'm awake."

"Sir, please, help me to know."

"Are you sure?" asked Laurence, not surprised. He had been contemplating when Logan would act, and what he would do when the boy made the first move.

"I'm sure," replied Logan, his voice filled with strength. "Please, sir."

Laurence rolled and faced the young man. "Whatever we do will not change our relationship. You do understand that?"

"Yes. But I still want to find out. I need to know what, no who, I am," replied Logan earnestly. "I need to know," he said again as he closed his eyes and waited for the kiss he knew would come.