Please see original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/historical/the-heathens/) for warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex between young-adult and adult men. Go away if any of that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty TODAY at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming. You can also set up AMAZON SMILE so that your purchases on Amazon earn contributions NIFTY! It's a great, zero-cost way to enhance the support you already give them.
"Will you accept the apology of a Warrior of Rome, Hemin?" The boy nodded spastically and nearly (and possibly did) wet himself when Harcos reached his giant paw across to pat the boy's shoulder. "Bu, see them well-fed and well-watered, and bedded for the day. They are not to work in any way until I say so, and tell them... tell them I'll spank their scrawny asses raw if they don't eat and rest as instructed. Oh," he grinned wickedly, "since we're in this mess for a noble whose name I won't be mentioning, you are also to explain to them EXACTLY how you know what it means to be spanked by Harcos." He laughed at Bu's scowl, smiled and scooped me into his arms. We went to our tent and cuddled away the morning, dozing and drowsing, occasionally snoring, but never more than a caress away from one another.
The Heathens 32: Salves & Shocks
By Bear Pup
During one short doze, I felt the ecstasy take me and my world turned to pure white, engulfing me in radiance. God was once again upon His holy throne with His Son to His right and the pulsing force of the Holy Spirit to His left. His hosts surrounded Him, all of them wearing the miraculous beauty of their bodies proudly, their only raiment the power of the One True God.
Strasta strode forth and smiled upon me. "You please the One True God, my child. You know your true name, Szentély, the sanctuary, sanctum, penetralia, chancel for Harcos and other warriors of His holy cause. But that name is not ready for even those within our Brotherhood of Christ to know. This day and for other days between now and your revelation, use the name that means to heel, to follow as a dog his master, to take the direction of your master faithfully and unfailingly. It is the name that Jesus used in his mother tongue for the blessed man now known as James, brother of John. Give your name as Ya'aqov, my son, and do God's work this day."
I awoke weeping tears of transcendent joy and snuggled deeper into the embrace and rich musk of the man I loved and the one that the One True God had chosen for me to serve. He petted me and cooed in his half-sleep and I felt the Grace bestowed upon me to flow into him.
After the dream, Harcos and I woke and set about the work on the sword. The boys remained in mortal terror of Harcos, but also in awe. They looked at me with genuine shock that I openly cuddled and cooed, that I adored this barbarian giant but also that I held no fear of him at all. We had just started cleaning and polishing the armour when I noticed movement in the tent that held the new slaves. Ejder was in the middle of the age of restlessness and it took all of his elder brother's efforts to keep the youth from mischief. All thought in that direction evaporated like mist when a long groan and a few muttered words came from the tent that held Ajda, the youngest that they called Xorti, the 'cute boy'.
Grubo was there, and Handart sat in front of the tent. The boys got no closer than a peek through the entrance. The solidity of the calm and gentle warrior was immovable and impassable. The brothers fidgeted and twisted in an effort to see what was going on inside the gloomy cloth structure. Grubo called out for Bu who came to the other end of the tent and spoke low to Handart's servant. Bu moved around and pulled the boys a few cubits to the side.
Within moments they were weeping, but all could see it was tears of relief, of joy, of deliverance from doom. The news was good, then. I approached and spoke low through the tent-fabric. "What news, friend-Grubo?"
"Kucuk? Good, for the brothers will need you. The boy lives, he can speak, and his wound heals cleanly. His eyes are {word}--" I stopped and asked him to explain the jargon. "The pupils are uneven within the eyes. They react to light but do so sluggishly and separately. His soul-link to his mind is injured by the blow to the head and its healing will be slower than that of the body. This is what you must find a way to explain. The brother will live, but he may be changed. That he speaks is excellent; that means that the soul remains in control of the body, but the soul may be unable to express itself. He may lack memories, skills or ways of thinking. He may need tender instruction and all the love those two can give him, and he may never be the same. I heard you working soft magic on the eldest, and I've heard you use those spells before. Use them on the brothers now. They need the serenity you can bring them."
I ran and told Volot so he could inform the others, then rushed to where Bu and Hemin were literally restraining the middle brother from running back to the tent. Bu helped me draw them further away, to a short, wide, scrubby tree's lee; the breeze had picked up a bit and even that scant shelter was welcome.
"Bu, please tell them they must sit and be still. If they have a religion, tell them to send several minutes of prayer to whatever gods they hold in adoration. I need some words from you so that I can help them." He looked at me oddly but translated. The boys fell to their knees in prayerful attitude and I blinked hard. I knew the rhythm of the prayer they recited if not the language. There had been quiet rumours that the far-off (now not far at all) Kingdom of Armenia was more than merely lax on the persecution of Christians, but to hear of the One True God worshipped in clear voices shocked me deeply, even though that particular prayer never specifically mentioned His name or the Risen Christ.
I pulled Bu to the side and got words for head, body, mind, soul, healing, forgetting, safety, love, care, time and brotherhood. To sleep, to eat, to pray, to love, to stay strong. We bounced the sounds back and forth until he felt I had them clearly in hand and we re-joined the brothers just as they started a second prayer, one also known to me. I asked Bu to step aside a moment. The warrior-nobleman did so, casting a curious and cautious eye on the three of us.
I knelt and joined this prayer, using my own language. Their eyes widened when I knelt and widened further when they realised what I was doing. As with the one they'd spoken from the Book of the Acts of Christ's Disciples, this one ran to a rhythm that they recognised.
The prayer started with, "Jesus,", but the boys had said something that, from the cadence, was likely, "O, great god." The rest was per tradition. "My feet and my soul are dirty, one with dust and the other with sin. Come even as a slave to me, myself your slave. Pour water into your bowl. Come and wash my feet. In asking this I show my arrogance, but I dread what was threatened when you said to me, 'If I do not wash your feet I have no fellowship with you.' Wash my feet then, and wash my soul, for I long for your companionship. Be it so in the name of our Heavenly Father, a name I am not worthy to speak aloud. Be it so."
They simply stared at me then, with eyes that held respect and fear in equal measures. I motioned Bu over and stared back and forth into the brothers' eyes as I asked the warrior to translate for me.
"Xorti lives. Ajda can speak, proof his soul still lives and rules within him, whole and sound. Be still, brothers, be still." The pair was weeping but went silent, allowing the tears to wash down their faces without wiping them away. "Ajda heals in both body and the mind that the soul uses to command it. The body will recover quickly, the mind may take longer to listen to the commands of the soul. Your gods," I winked with the eye Bu could not see, "have heard your prayers and answered them. But as gods may do, their answer requires sacrifice. You will need to help and care for your brother now and perhaps for his entire life." Ejder was still undone, but the older Hemin no payed close attention.
"The soul may need to relearn the use of that body. Ajda, your Xorti, may wake as he was, in which case you may need to help him forget the pain of the wound and... and what came before. Ajda may wake as a newborn babe, Xorti no more, and you will need to love and raise him once again. Ajda may wake between those states. That is what you should pray that your gods will bring to pass, that he will be the Xorti from before your father's crimes and the horrors that followed. If you pray to some merciful gods, perhaps they will send you this boon."
I gathered the two into my arms as they started to sob. I rocked them as we knelt, starting my soothings and injecting the words I'd pulled from Bu. Words of healing and safety and love and brotherhood, but added words they must know, things from the Word of God. The names of apostles and martyrs, phrases spoken by the Risen Christ. Since most of my soothings were primarily sounds without meaning, Bu could not (I prayed) guess which ones held meanings that were anathema to Rome.
It took more than an hour for them to unclench themselves, and another half to stop the tears. I led them back to the tent that Bu had installed them in. I told them to sleep, to eat, to pray. At that last, I knelt before them as they sat on their haunches, pointed to Ejder and said his name, then at Hemin and did the same, then at myself and said, "Kucuk." They repeated it.
In the dirt of the tent floor between us, where none but us could see, I drew the sacred cross. They gasped and looked at me searchingly. I stared into their eyes and pointed not to myself but to my heart, "Ya'aqov." They whispered it in reverence. I pointed at their hearts in turn. Ejder was Mattyhu, what I would call Matthias. Hemin was Shimon, what I would call Simon Peter, a common choice for an eldest son. I pointed to the tent where their brother healed, and they told me his sacred name was something that sounded like Makur. They mimed a suggestion of 'pure' or 'clean' or perhaps 'blank/blameless'.
I started a prayer in Latin that I felt it likely they might know. It was written by Clement, Bishop of Rome, a man brought into the fold of the One True God in Rome by Simon, the rock upon which Christ built his church. After the first phrase, I repeated their word for prayer, and then said, "Clement?" They nodded. I repeated the Latin phrase; the prayer itself is incredibly long, but they fell into step with me, mainly in simple Latin but also in their local tongue, as I picked the passage that simply felt right to me.
"We beg you, Lord, to help and defend us. Deliver the oppressed, pity the insignificant, raise the fallen, show yourself to the needy, heal the sick, bring back those of your people who have gone astray, feed the hungry, lift up the weak, take off the prisoners' chains." They fell silent and I continued, "Ya'aqov asks this. Shimon asks this. Mattyhu asks this. We three ask it in hope for Makur. Be it so."
I reverently rubbed out the cross and told them to sleep. They crawled onto the blankets but their eyes remained bright and worried. I sought out bread, meat and cheese in generous quantities and took it to them, along with a glass each of a hard mead or honey-wine from a small cask that the traitor's pack had contained. They declined, miming lack of hunger. I frowned and drew their attention to my master who was striding across the camp, scowling his default barbarian expression. I then mimed Ejder being over my knee getting his ass spanked. Their eyes got wide and they fell upon the meal like wolves. I smiled broadly and left them to it. The food -- and the thought of my master blistering their asses -- was a superb distraction from their intense worry; combined with the sweet and unexpectedly-strong beverage, it was sure to entice sleep as well.
I ran to find Harcos and explained. He smiled at me broadly for what I'd done for the boys and then frowned a little. He said his worry lay in the Christian part. He sought out Bu who was (naturally; I rolled my eyes and sighed) cooing and cuddling with that annoying little wisp of nothing, Kapik. We sat in front of their tent and they turned to us curiously.
Harcos sighed deeply. "This will be a strange conversation. I am not sure if I am talking to Bu or Khosashir Arsacid, and I'm not even sure if Harcos is talking or the Servus for the As of Nemesis. Perhaps none of them are here." Bu looked frankly alarmed, but Harcos just sighed again. "As for now, my friend, let's pretend this conversation is not happening at all, then decide afterwards." Bu nodded solemnly and said nothing. "Kapik, can you excuse us please?"
"He should stay, my Harcos." My master looked at me bemused, then he realised what I meant and frowned deeper.
"I need to know what your land is like in this time. Specially, how is the Jewish cult of Christians seen here?"
"In this conversation that we are not having," Bu chose his words with inordinate and uncharacteristic care, "neither Bu of the Roman Legion nor Khosashir Arsacid, Friend of Rome, could possibly give you the answers you seek. Both of them would say that the cult is an abomination, crushed beneath the heel of all who find the stench of its presence." Kapik started to tremble and Bu put a calming hand on his shoulder even before I could.
"Be still, Kapik. However, if you asked someone who was neither a Legionnaire nor a member of the royal house of the Kingdom Armenia, you would find that Christianity is spreading wildly, is largely accepted and even publicly celebrated (if with at least some discretion), sometime even within the capitals of this and other provinces to the south and west. You would have to be either in areas subdued and patrolled by the Legion, within a few days march of Byzantium or Rome, or in one of the cities governed by someone seeking preferment within the Empire to find a place where discreet persons are persecuted."
Harcos nodded thoughtfully throughout this speech. "And the person inside the stage-characters of Bu and Khosashir Arsacid? How does he feel?"
"He shall not answer until he knows with whom he speaks." Bu's voice was somewhat brittle and I bristled at the implied insult to my master's loyalty. Harcos' was now the one who needed to settle his servant and I quieted instantly.
"It is a fair question, and a delicate one. I know of a mighty warrior of Rome who grieved terribly at the loss of one he treated as a son for seven years. That servant-son was a Christian. The warrior recently obtained a new servant upon whom he dotes disgustingly, also of that odious cult. Please speak as if to that warrior, my friend."
"Then the person within the stage-characters you describe -- and I'll have words with you on that description later, you flee-bitten cur -- would say he couldn't care less and finds the cult no less offensive than many that are embraced by the Empire. At least their blood-sacrifices are symbolic and not of innocent lifeblood poured into the dust."
"As the aforementioned warrior speaking to the-actor-within, please know that three slaves recently bought by a roaming As also practise that faith. This complicates their sale tremendously. Does that person have any ideas that I can share with the warrior?"
Bu sat deep in thought. "He will dwell on it and I will suggest he speak to a servant. That servant will relay a message to the warrior's own... helpmeet?"
"Excellent. Thank you, nobleman, warrior or whoever the fuck you are." Harcos smirked and pulled me with him.
"Um, Harcos? I didn't understand half of that, my Aldus."
"As intended, Dasqas, my precious jewel." I preened at his secret name for me. "No member of the Legion and no one involved with running any part of the Empire would be safe in saying a kind or even neutral word about that which the Empire specifically condemns -- and which Diocletian has vowed to Sol Invictus to eradicate." He grew thoughtful.
"That said, even the Legion has a large number of men who secretly -- and often not so secretly if there are no officers around -- worship this new god. The Fifth Legion had a purge recently. Nearly three hundred men were put to death, and those were only the ones too stubborn or stupid to pay false-homage to the Cult of Rome. Devotion is one thing, my Kucuk, but I fail to find any virtue in a god who would rather see his worshipers slaughtered than see them pretend cult to another, allowing them to live and spread their real god's message."
I had pondered that a lot when I was younger, often after the "sin" of a wet dream led to a thrashing with a wingnut switch upon my unmentio-- even thinking back to those times robbed me of the freedom that my master had taught me -- upon my cock and balls that left me wanting to die. Why would a God who taught love, salvation and compassion want His followers to die horribly just to prove a point about faith? I vowed to ask Strasta if I was ever given the power of voice in one of my ecstasies.
Harcos continued, "Regardless, you have done very well in holding your tongue, even as to the monkey. I wonder if Bu knows yet." He mused.
"Yes, my Aldus. He knows." Harcos looked at me strangely. "Did you not see how he instantly reached out to sooth Kapik? He knew his words would hurt the boy. I don't think that Kapik knows that Bu knows, though. I wonder what let Bu see that?"
"My Dasqas," that ripple of pleasure that surged through me when he used that name has never faded, "Bu is one of the most-perceptive men, warrior or not, that I have ever met. Do not, I warn you, ever try to lie to that man and if you play any game of chance with him, you deserve to lose whatever you bet." He smirked, "And I will guarantee that the thing he'll try and get you to wager is your waggly little tail, my puppy." He reached to tousle my hair and I pretended to bite the hand, then nuzzled into it. I sent a silent prayer to Strasta, thanking him for hinting how to break Harcos from his post-battle grieving rages.
Grubo motioned me over and I peeled away from Harcos to see what was needed. "Friend-Kucuk, the boy will wake again after supper which will be early this evening, perhaps an hour hence. He would be awake now except that I gave him a tonic to prevent it. Please make sure the brothers are ready, and that they will show no shock or grief if he is not... whole."
"I have already done so, friend-Grubo. They pray on that question to their gods now, if they have woken after I tricked them to a large meal with honey-wine." He raised an eyebrow and gave me an approving nod. "Their great hope, and mine, is that the blow will leave the boy whole, but take him back to a time before the father failed them, thus stealing their lives and dreams."
I had not to that moment seen Grubo smile at anyone other than Handart, and then rarely. He turned to me fully and put both hands on my shoulders, a slight and somewhat sad smile gracing his thick lips. "You are a good man, Kucuk. I am glad that Harcos found one such as you. You strengthen the As, and you seek to help those who need it most. I wish more were like you." He leaned forward and kissed each cheek.
I was shocked and humbled, and let it show, asking, "Will you teach me more of the healing herbs, my brother? Strasta had so little time..."
"He was the master of them. I will teach you as much of what he taught me as I can recall. Yes, he was my own teacher. I didn't know bloodwort from birdshit when Handart... found me." I determined to find out what that ellipsis hid one day. There was pain there, and joy and fear. "I had four great teachers. Strasta taught me healing; Igracka, the one who served and loved Pameten before, taught me loyalty; Furge taught me manners (a hard and painful set of lessons, those); and Handart," he smirked at me, "taught me oh-so-very-much." I laughed with him, the first laugh I'd heard from my rather-sour friend.
Volot, Pyrkagia, Lavic and Furge were compiling an evening meal that looked and smelled wonderful. Some small formerly-furry creatures were sizzling as they roasted above the coals. A large stone bowl with a loose, domed cover created an impromptu oven, puffing hints of a rich bread, and the stew pot was steaming the air with the scent of lentils and grain.
I went to the tent where the boys still slumbered, Hemin curled protectively around Ejder. I carefully snuggled in behind the older brother and began my soothings anew. I let their breathing deepen and slow as their dreams cleared and the tension fled just a little further away, then slowly let them rise toward wakefulness. I wove the words that Bu had taught me with simple phrases of Latin meant to show them safety and hope.
Ejder was first to snap open his eyes. They filled quickly with fright and desperation as his memories returned, both mellowed slowly under the onslaught of my soothings. Hemin was next. His back was to me but I felt him tense, then seeing his brother whole and unharmed left him sighing with relief. He stiffened again when he recognised my unfamiliar arms and he spun to face me. I gave him a Christian kiss of tenderness and brotherhood and he relaxed again. He then relaxed completely, and I was shocked and pleased to feel him actually return the kiss; tentatively, true, but a spark was there that gave me pause.
I roused them and took them to Bu's tent where the man sat honing and oiling the lethal blades he used. I felt the boys turn to cold stone at the sight. Bu's hands moved like those of a lover over the slightly-bent but wickedly-sharp life-takers. Bu looked up and saw the expression on the faces of the already-terrified youths and threw the oiled cloth over his knives. I pushed their shoulders to get them to sit and explained to Bu what would happen after supper, and what the boys needed to do.
I listened as he explained, calmly and calmingly, at some length. I caught many of the words I'd asked for earlier, care and healing, love and strength, safety and brotherhood. Ejder looked more and more grave, but Hemin swelled with resolution and the duty of an eldest brother to protect his siblings. I tugged them toward the fire, but Hemin muttered something to Ejder who, frowning in puzzlement, followed me while the elder stayed and talked in undertones to Bu.
When we reached the cookfire, I introduced the other servants to the skittish and suddenly-shy youngster. All welcomed him with smiles and nods. Furge, eldest and smartest, knew precisely how to win instant friendship of a manchild and "snuck" him part of the small roasted critters, charred lightly and dripping with succulent juice. The boy exclaimed and hugged Furge before remembering what was going on scant cubits away in the darkened tent that held his brother. His face fell and his eyes dropped... but he still ate the meat.
I used Furge as a screen and looked over to see what I could make out in front of Bu's tent. Bu looked shocked and Hemin was looking straight at his own knees and blushing enough to bleed from his pores. Bu would speak, from this distance he appeared to do so very slowly and carefully, and Hemin would glance up and repeat whatever Bu had said, then go back to knee-staring. I watched the cycle repeat several times before Furge busted me and followed my gaze. He looked for a moment and got this huge knowing smile and his eyes twinkled. I hate it when everyone but me know what is happening!
Supper was excellent. The warriors ate heartily and we boys polished off everything that remained, all of us ending sated. Hemin and Ejder, though, fidgeted and glanced constantly at the tent where Ajda, their Xorti or 'cute boy', laid in fitful rest. They jumped at the slightest noise and picked at the food -- well, to be fair, Hemin picked and Ejder ate as little as was possible for a boy his age; in other words, about the same as Harcos and I combined.
Grubo came over and got me, Bu and the two boys. He was carrying two small kettles and a heavy waterskin. He made his way to the tent and motioned the rest of us to enter. Grubo sat at the boy's head with his kettles beside him. He directed the brothers to sit at either shoulder of the still-sleeping young boy, and Bu and I sat by his legs.
Grubo nodded at me and I stared for a moment. He grimaced and gave me an eye-pop and a get-it-moving sign. It dawned on me what he wanted and I started humming and murmuring the soothings, what he thought of as some heathen spell but that I knew were simply the Talents given to me by God that I was, at his Word, to use and multiply like the good and faithful servant I wished to be. Bu looked at me strangely, as did the brothers for a moment, but their attention went straight back to the boy, the terror and hope fighting in their postures and expressions.
Grubo wet a small cloth then used it to wet the boy's chapped lips. I saw a less-dry tongue probe out to touch the moisture. More of the cold water was then used to wipe the face and chest of the boy, cooling and rousing him. Grubo moved forward and inclined the boy's body, resting his head on Grubo's soft belly and his slender back on the servant's thick thighs.
As his eyes fluttered, Grubo held a cup with a tiny sip of water to the boy's lips and the moisture drew a response. As his eyes opened, he pulled the cooling draught into his mouth and sighed, then made a mewl of pain and closed his eyes again. I added the words I'd used with the brothers earlier, healing and safety and love. Grubo pressed a larger cup, this one with a warm tea and the boy drank greedily of it and sighed.
With a suddenness that shocked all of us, the young boy stiffened and cried out in fear, clearly different from that cry of pain. His eyes went wide and unseeing for a moment then he looked around him frantically. He saw Ejder first and pulled at him, then saw Hemin on the other side and tried to sit up. Grubo's hands were gentle but firm. The brothers came to him instead and began to smother him with kisses and words of hope and joy. Grubo watched me, not the boys, for a long moment. He made a gesture that seems to say, 'more.' I increased the power of the soothing and saw the boys (and even Bu) visibly relax a little.
Grubo pushed the boys off gently while securely holding Ajda down. The brothers drew back and quieted but Ajda struggled. Grubo spoke more harshly than I felt warranted, but the youngster quieted instantly whilst the Ejder glared and Hemin glowered.
Grubo spoke through Bu, pausing after each statement. "All of you be quiet." Grubo's deep voice and Bu's translation had an instant effect. "Ajda, tell me how you feel, quietly and simply."
"My back hurts like seven hells." Ejder snickered and Hemin started to object to the language but Grubo ploughed on.
"Can you see clearly?"
The boy frowned. "No, we're in a tent." His voice clearly wanted to add, 'you idiot.'
"For being in a dimly-lit tent, can you see as clearly as you expected?"
"Yes." The boy was growing sullen and bored with the questions.
"Are you dizzy? Does the tent spin?"
"Yes, but only a little."
"Does your head hurt?"
"Yes, but not like my back!" Grubo relaxed dramatically, although I doubt the three brothers, focussed intently on each other, noticed.
"Now, these will seem like stupid questions. Answer them anyways."
"Why?" Ah, the eternal power of a youth sulking.
Hemin went into full Eldest Brother mode and his diatribe left the youngest brother cowed and compliant, but grumpy as hell. His voice clearly showed it. "Yes."
"What is your name?"
The eye-roll was the absolute model of pre-teen disgust, even if the eyes that performed the gesture wobbled more than a little. "Ghazar Ajda Dharbinyan, son of Dharbin Petrus Gasparyan."
"Who is to your right." I almost lost the soothings as I watched the boy obviously try to recall right and left, just as most kids do when challenged on it unexpectedly. At his dilemma, Ejder snorted a laugh that earned him a glare from the youngest brother.
Ajda turned to the eldest and said, "Gaspar Hemin Dharbinyan"
"And to your left?"
Ejder interjected what had to have been, "That's the direction that isn't your right, dipshit," or similar and Grubo had to hold the youngster down again as Hemin made a nasty comment that made Ejder blush and Bu bark out a laugh.
For the first time, Ajda saw the two of us by his legs and a start of alarm ran through him. He yelled something and tried to move away from me, but Hemin leant forward and whispered urgently into his ear. The youngest boy stilled but stared at me with wary confusion.
Bu leaned over to me and whispered, "He cried out that you were putting a spell on him. His brother said, 'Christians don't cast spells,' in a voice I think he assumed I could not hear." I shot him a startled and worried glance and he just winked.
"Saraf Ejder Dharbinyan. What are you doing to me? Why am I here?!?"
Both of the brothers shushed him.
Grubo's voice was stern but kind. "I will answer those questions after you answer this one, I promise. What is the last thing you remember before you were hurt?"
The youth suddenly shrank in years. His lower lip quivered and his voice was that of a child of perhaps eight summers. Whilst Bu's translation was straightforward, it was easy to see which words had killed the boy to say. "A m-m-m-m-man held me down and another ripped off m-m-m-my, my p-p-p-pants. And then he, he, he..." the boy burst into sobs and Hemin threw off Grubo's grip -- which the placid servant allowed with a grim smile -- and gathered the boy into his arms and cried with him.
Grubo sat back and moved out from under the boy suspending in the older brother's arms. As soon as he moved, Ejder was wrapped around his youngest brother as well. Grubo moved to sit between Bu and, after a few minutes, put a hand on my knee. I took that a signal to stop the soothings. The loss of the background sound got the attention first of Ejder, then Hemin and lastly the still crying but no longer distraught youngest boy.
Grubo again spoke through Bu. "I promised to answer your questions. You were hurt whilst making sure that the monster who did that to you will never hurt another boy." Ajda''s eyes were wide in amazement and disbelief. "As you felled him, his sword left a long cut on your back that will heal, and a nasty knock on your head that, I think, is already healing. You are here because a group of Roman warriors took you and your brothers from the villains who bought you. We are working to heal you, and you are under the protection of some of the mightiest warriors in the Empire. Your brothers," Grubo's eyes bored into those of the older brothers, "will tell you anything else you need to know."
He directed the rest to the two older brothers. "I cleansed the wound and changed the poultice and dressing less than an hour ago. I will return to check it in a few minutes to make sure the movement has not caused a rupture. While I do that, you will go to the other tent and get the blankets you were given. You will both be here for Ajda tonight. Make him sleep flat on his stomach through the night. Hold him if you need to, but do not let him turn or toss about. There are two teas there. Make him drink one cup of each, alternating between them, every few minutes until both are gone. Wait at least an hour, then have him drink all of the waterskin, every drop. Repeat what I have told you."
When they had, and had been corrected on the teas, Grubo continued, "He will need to piss soon after the teas are finished and again after he finishes the water. Both of you are to hold him up at all times, undressing as needed and hold whatever parts need holding. If he needs to shit, get me first. I will be in that tent." Ajda blushed, horrified at the talk of these functions, as would any boy his age. That fact sent a wave of relief through me. Any boy with the energy and thought to be mortally embarrassed is not likely to be mortally injured.
"He will be dizzy for a couple days and unsteady for a couple more, at least. If he stumbles, you will get me. If he falls, you will get me. If he does not sleep or does not wake as he normally would, you will get me. If light hurts his eyes or he begins to squint, you will get me. If he says his head hurts worse than his back, you will get me. If he ignores what you tell him to do, you will get me AND HARCOS." Hemin smirked and Ejder blanched. "I will bring broth for him to eat at full dark, but do not try to force or entice him to take more than he actually wants. Explain what I have told you." They got it right this time and Grubo stood with no ceremony and left. Bu and I followed, draping the end of the tent so they'd have privacy.
I heard them begin to weep and speak across one another, a few snapping retorts and sharp jabs proving that they were brothers, and the youngest was recovered at least enough to act like one. Bu stiffened at the sound of hooves and ran out to the roadway. I watched him hail a horseman, not one in livery but also not one dressed for brigandry, and begin a hurried conversation. As I turned, I saw coins exchanged and the horseman galloped off at a much greater pace that he'd used arriving.
I watched Grubo return to the tent a few minutes later and shoo the brothers away from his patient. There were some highly uncomfortable and thoroughly disgruntled noises for a moment, but nothing that seemed serious or that riled the brothers who were keeping a close ear on the proceedings as they gathered their blankets.
I was at our cart checking my own herb-roll for the items I thought Grubo had used when I was surprised by a tug at my sleeve. I turned to find a blotch of bright scarlet that it took me a moment to place as a furiously blushing Hemin. He first pulled me into a hug that nearly killed me. He might be lean and wiry, and undernourished to boot, but the guy had strength! He pushed me back, gripped my shoulders and looked deep into my eyes.
I was struck speechless when he spoke in passable Latin! Sure, he talked as if reciting a lesson (which he was, I realised) but I was still impressed. "I thank you, Kucuk. You are a god gift. You are--You are..." He shook his head and decided to skip whatever I was going to have been next. He looked down and took three shuddering, deep breathes and then, with clear reluctance matched by resolution, met my eyes again. "Will Kucuk teach me man sex?" My mind went utterly and completely blank. Uh... what? What just happened there? "Tonight for Ajda be. Will other day you teach me man sex?" All I could do was blink as poor Hemin got redder and redder. What in all of the hells of Rome was I going to say to that?