Book of Heroes: George of Sedona I - 19. Healing Body and Soul

Chapter 19: Healing Body and Soul

It was mid-afternoon when they spotted the farm. This far from any town, the farm was understandably fortified. It consisted of several large buildings surrounding a central yard. The outer walls of the buildings were part of a palisade that surrounded the complex. The gates were open. The companions saw men and boys working in the fields.

At Arthur’s signal, they dismounted and led the horses down a path between two fields. They were about two furlongs from the farmstead when they were approached by a man who was carrying a pitchfork. In the fields on either side of the path, men and tweens had put down their tools and picked up longbows.

By custom, Arthur was silent, allowing the farmer to speak first.

“Greetings, strangers. We’re surprised to see people riding out of the woods…” The farmer’s unspoken question hung in the air.

Arthur saw no Darkness in the man or the farm, and replied, “Greetings in the Light. We ride for Adelaide from Questa, and the route through the woods is the shortest. My name is Arthur. These boys are sworn to me. I am a healer, and would exchange services for lodging and food.”

A second man who had joined the first nodded. He’ll be their sembler, Arthur thought.

“Know anything about lumpy jaw?” the farmer asked.

“Tumors in the mouth, jaw, throat, chest…then they reach the abdomen,” Arthur replied. “Caused by a tiny creature…can’t be seen with the eye. Affects oxen and swine, mostly. Can affect people, too. Anyone in your family suffering from it?”

“Not yet, but the last time we found it in the herd, we lost a boy. We’ll gladly put you up if you can help us with it.”

Arthur had taken Larry to examine and treat the affected cattle. The treatment was simple: examine the animal, find the pattern of the virus that caused the disease, twist the pattern to create an antibody, and inject it into the animal. It was not especially difficult, but it was tedious, and there were many cattle to be treated. When they finished, Arthur asked Larry if he understood what had been done.

Larry paused, and then said, “We didn’t do…I mean, you didn’t do much except get the animal started on healing itself. I mean, it seems—” He stopped. The confusion on his face was evident.

“That’s the greatest secret of healers,” Arthur said. “Most of the time, we don’t really heal; we just show the body how to heal itself.”

While Arthur talked to the masterfarmer, Gary and George took Larry to the bathhouse and scrubbed him from head to toe before putting him into the hot soak.

“Is it always that hard?” Larry asked.

“Harder,” George said. “And wait until you start weapons practice…I was so tired I couldn’t even lift my arms above my shoulders, really.”

After supper, Arthur and the masterfarmer sat on the porch while the boys played a ball game. “How far to Adelaide?” Arthur asked.

“A tenday on horseback as the crow flies,” the masterfarmer replied. “But unless you’re a crow or a mountain goat, it’s at least two tendays.” He laughed at his own wit. “The road runs east around the spine of that mountain,” he continued, pointing to a peak rising against the southern sky.

The next morning, Arthur and the boys rode east. The road was not part of the Royal Road. In fact, it was little more than a cart path. “Looks like we’re going to be in the woods for a while longer,” Arthur said. “Those folks are pretty self-sufficient, and don’t trade, much. Certainly not with Adelaide. They probably visit and trade with the other farms along this road.”

Arthur described what he’d learned from the masterfarmer. “There’s a farm about every day’s ride or two, and a small monastery of herbalists about half-way to Adelaide. Later on, we’ll find a couple of farm villages. We’re back in civilization, but on the fringes of it.”

The next farm was larger than the first. The bath house was full of boys and tweens. George and a tween caught sight of one another at the same instant. Boy after boy noticed the two staring at one another, and stopped talking to watch, until the entire bath was silent.

The two boys could not have been more different. Where George’s hair was jet, the boy’s was white. George was stocky with sharply defined muscles; the boy was tall, slender, and—sleek was the only word that fit. George’s eyes were violet; the boy’s were golden. They were as different as two boys could be, and still be human; yet, there was something ineffable that linked the two.

A boy-child broke the silence. “Bath!” he cried, and grabbed the hand of one of the tweens. “Bath!”

The spell was broken, and all the boys resumed undressing, washing clothes, bathing, or whatever, while casting occasional glances toward George and their white-haired brother.

“Your name is George,” the boy said. He’d slipped through the crowd and stood an arm’s length from George.

“Your name…I don’t know your name,” George said. “But I think that I should.”

“My name is Erin. How old are you?” the boy asked.

“Erin…Erin…” George said. “I still don’t know…Oh, I’m about 22, or rather 20, really…”

“Well, no wonder you don’t remember!” Erin said. “No one remembers earlier until they’re a lot older. I’m five decades, or rather, more.”

“How do you know my name?” George asked. Earlier? Remember? he thought, not daring to hope.

“We were…cousins, I think…maybe just friends…in a past life. Your hair was brown, then, but your eyes—that’s what made me know—your eyes were violet.”

Arthur, who had watched and listened, asked, “Erin, are you sure?”

Erin seemed surprised. “Sure? Of course, I’m sure. Why would I not be?”

“No reason,” Arthur said. “George, have fun. We’ll talk, tomorrow.”

Having thus received Arthur’s permission, George asked, “Erin, would you share boy magic with me? And tell me more about…”

“Come on—to the shower,” Erin said.

When the companions rode from the farm the next morning, George was happier than Arthur had ever seen him. Larry and Gary rode in the vaward; Arthur rode beside George behind them. “You and Erin?” Arthur hinted.

“Oh, Arthur,” George said. “He’s sure, and now I’m sure. I have lived here, before.”

“I’m glad,” Arthur said. “I’m glad you learned this. I’m very happy for you.” He reflected for a minute. “I’m happy for me, too, George, for that means that we’ll not be separated forever.”

“Um,” George said.

“Um, what?” Arthur asked.

“Um, nothing,” George teased.

“Something, I think,” Arthur said.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I knew?” George asked.

“Um, no,” Arthur said. “Not interested.”

George cuffed Arthur’s arm. “Yes you are. You’re dying to know.”

“Okay,” Arthur said. “How did you know?”

“Um, not going to tell you,” George said.

“No?

“No,” George said. “Going to show you. Tonight. If you’ll share with me, and do whatever I say.”

Arthur looked startled, and then smiled. “You,” he said, “are on.”

*****

Arthur held George close to himself while both boys’ breathing slowed. “Was that okay?” George whispered. His voice trembled with trepidation. “It was something Kevin and I did, and I wanted to do it with you, but I was always afraid to ask. And Erin? Erin knew it! But, was it okay?”

“George, it was more than okay,” Arthur said. “It was terrific. But you know that.”

“No, I mean, was it okay to do it that way?” George asked. “You didn’t mind…?”

“No, George, I didn’t,” Arthur said. “Why would you think I would? It’s not that much different…Oh! Because you were in control…you were dominant?”

Arthur paused only a moment before continuing. “George, don’t think for a moment that it would bother me or frighten me or upset me. You know, don’t you, that if I am killed, you have to lead Gary and Larry to safety? Back to Gary’s home, I would think.”

“Is that what you’re preparing me for?” George asked.

“I hope not, George; I hope for much better things. You know it was not an accident that we met at that renaissance faire, and that I brought you here.”

“Yeah,” George said. “I figured that out a long time ago.”

“I should have talked to you about it,” Arthur said.

“But you did!” George protested. “Over and over, you did. How do you think I figured it out?”

“You two going to whisper all night?” Larry asked. “You’re going to wake up Gary.”

“I’m awake,” Gary said, sleepily.

“Come here, Larry,” George said. “I want to show you something.”

*****

“If we push hard,” Arthur said the next morning, “we can reach the monastery before dark. Larry? Are you and George going to be able to stay awake?”

The boys nodded. Gary pulled the last of the heat from the fire, releasing it into the surrounding air. A small cloud of water vapor—moisture in the air that Gary had heated past its boiling point—condensed over his head, and then was gone.

“Nice, Gary,” Arthur said. “Very quiet.”

*****

“That looks like Aladdin’s lamp,” George said, pointing to a symbol painted on the towers at each side of the open gate. They had ridden hard all day, and reached the monastery just before dusk.

“Who?” Larry called.

“Later,” George whispered. He was watching Arthur closely. Arthur’s right hand was on the hilt of his sword, and George was sure he’d seen a flicker from the sword. Slowly, trying to appear nonchalant, George walked his horse forward and stopped abreast and to the right of Larry. Gary, who was on Arthur’s left, did not see this, but he and the other boys saw Arthur’s left hand extend slightly, palm down. It was the signal to stay where they were.

Things seemed normal. The man who stepped from the gate and greeted them was cautious, and questioned Arthur closely. He agreed—somewhat reluctantly, perhaps—that they might stay the night.

The stable held a dozen horses, but no ostler or groom. Arthur seemed unusually interested in the other horses, but said nothing except to instruct the boys, “Stay together. Do not under any circumstances wander off or go off alone with anyone. I may have to, but I will be watching you.” The puzzled boys tended their horses, and followed Arthur to the baths.

Supper was served by three boys—one scarcely more than a child—in a large room. This is a refectory, George thought, remembering the word from a story in The Book of Heroes. The serving boys scurried around the tables, and avoided looking at the men.

They’re frightened, thought George. They’re afraid of the men, and of us. This must be a tough monastery! Images from George’s two years in a Catholic school easily melded into an imaginary monastery in which boys were beaten for minor infractions.

“This stew is excellent, Brother,” Arthur said. “Nothing like anise to spice it up.”

“Uh, yes, yes,” the monk next to Arthur said. “We do with what we have, of course.”

Anise, George thought. That’s liquorish. But there’s no liquorish…Oh shit! Something’s wrong. And Arthur knows it.

George looked around, casually, and assessed the situation. The twelve men at the table match the dozen horses in the stable, George thought. I don’t see any weapons. Of course, they couldn’t wear swords without tipping their hand. But, I’ll bet they have daggers in their robes.

The boys are afraid of the men, and they think we’re like them, so they’re afraid of us, too. What’s going on? Are these monks abusing these boys? That doesn’t explain the anise, or what isn’t anise. Second choice: these aren’t monks. They don’t know what anise is, and Arthur said they were supposed to be herbalists…

Gary and Larry felt George’s uneasiness. Without anyone seeing, they loosened their daggers.

Arthur sent out the gentlest of pings into the magical field. It returned with a dark miasma. Moreover, not one of the monks seemed to notice the magic. Arthur made a sweeping gesture with his ale mug, as if he were drunk. In reality, he gathered magic, which he sent out in a stronger ping. All the while, he continued talking to the monk beside him. These are not all the people in the monastery, he realized when the pulse was answered. Others are…somewhere, perhaps below...These men. Not one of them is of the Light.

“Brother,” Arthur said to the monk on his left, the man who seemed to be the senior. “Brother, who art thou?”

The man seemed surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Alas, Babylon,” Arthur said, ostensibly to the man, but in actuality alerting George to imminent danger. “Alas…”

Arthur stood quickly and put his dagger at the man’s throat. “You are no monk, nor are your companions. Order your companions to surrender, or die.”

The man seemed willing to do whatever it took to save his life. His companions, however, were not. Daggers and poniards appeared from under robes. George jumped from his seat and stood, his back to Arthur, with Larry and Gary between them, and his dagger in his hand. I must trust Arthur, the boy thought. I know he will trust me.

Arthur’s dagger was a blur that cut the throat of the false monk. Can’t wait and can’t leave him behind me, he thought. George will protect the boys. Arthur swept his arms through the matrix and hurled magic into the mass of men who were fast approaching him and the boys. Not time enough to gather enough power to kill, he thought. Let’s see how this works.

The men stopped suddenly. Their faces blanched. They vomited the stew—which did not, after all, contain anise—across the room. Not all of the stew fell on the floor. Larry nearly puked when the contents of someone’s stomach plastered themselves against his leg. Gary paled, and George looked a little queasy.

“I had no idea that spell was so good,” Arthur said. “It’s something I read about, once. Never tried it before.” On the floor of the refectory, the false monks were still lying in their own vomit, retching and coughing. At least one was vomiting blood. “It’s too bad I didn’t learn the counter-spell…”

The serving boys, who had fled the instant Arthur drew his dagger, reappeared. Behind them came three men, emaciated, filthy, and wearing no more than rags.

“These are the ones,” one of the boys said. Pointing to Arthur, the boy added, “He killed their leader.”

“We allowed three men to enter,” the monk told Arthur. “One was injured; the other two told only of his injury and need for food and rest. That which they said was true. We did not ask for more.”

He took a small sip of the liquid from the stew, and then continued. “In the night, they opened the gate and let their comrades in. Seven of our brothers, including two boys, were murdered in their sleep. The three boys you saw were kept as servants—and whores. The three of us were locked away. They questioned us about treasure—of which we have none. I suspect they’d have killed us, soon.

“We owe you our lives, and the lives of these boys.”

*****

“Guys, I want to stay here for a few days, perhaps more,” Arthur said. “The men are still a little dazed. They were treated pretty badly. The three boys…they’re also in bad shape. They were repeatedly raped by those men.”

“Is that why you killed them?” Larry asked.

“No, I didn’t kill them because of what they had done. I killed them so that they could not do it again. Of course, that only protects us now…in this time and this life…but it’s better than the alternative.”

*****

George and Adney lay quietly. Adney was one of the three boys who had survived the brigands’ attack on the monastery, and who had waited the table. “George,” the boy whispered. “I thought I would never share boy magic again. I knew that I would never do so without thinking of those men, and what they did. But you…you’re so beautiful… you’re so sweet…you’re so kind…”

“Adney, Arthur told me what had happened to you. After that, I could not look at you without my whole body aching. Arthur showed me how beautiful sex—sharing—could be. He changed everything for me. It was bad for me, before I met him. It was so much worse for you than it was for me. Arthur saved me. I can never repay him for all that he has done. I’ve told him that, and he has told me, a kindness is always repaid.

“If anything I do will make you happier, then I’m twice as happy. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Adney said after a moment. “Sort of. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you…”

*****

Two weeks had passed. The older monks’ health was much improved, and the three boys were able to smile again. “Guys, we have to leave,” Arthur said.

Gary, George, and Larry nodded. “We’ve been here too long,” George said. “Whoever is looking for us…he might find us if we don’t move around.”

“We’ve done what we came here to do,” Gary said. “I’m starting to understand, I think.”

“They need to stand on their own,” Larry said. “We can’t keep helping them or they’ll never heal.” Larry referred to the three boys who had been abused by the brigands.

“You each have part of the truth,” Arthur said. “Together, I believe you have captured it all. Say your farewells tonight. We will leave tomorrow morning.”

The boys were sorry to see Arthur and his companions leave; the older monks, however, understood. The senior—the only surviving ordained cleric had by default taken that title—gave Arthur a letter. “Please deliver this to the temple in the first city you reach. They will send others who share our interests in herbs and isolation. They will also send a weaponsmaster.” Arthur had agreed.

Usually, Arthur and the boys would pair off each night. The first night away from the monastery, however, Arthur found that they all wanted to sleep together. “We shared with the boys at the monastery,” George explained. “I know you did, too, but…”

“We need to be together, tonight,” Gary continued when George faltered.

“It took something from us,” Larry said. “I know you felt it, too.”

Arthur nodded. “You all felt it, didn’t you? Just as a healer will remove poison from a sick person, you took poison from the minds of those boys. A healer will discard the poison. You had no way to do that. You could only take it into yourselves.

“Yes, I felt it, and I felt the goodness that all of you gave to Adney and Garvis and Jerome. Yes, I want to be close to all of you.”

*****

The road passed between two wooded hills, and narrowed. The attack, when it came, was sudden. Gary was in the lead. Two arrows carrying flaming, oil-soaked rage, struck a mass of brush. The brush nearly blocked the defile, and had been soaked in oil. It burst into flame. Gary’s horse reared. With a thought, Gary pushed the heat of the fire in the direction from which one of the arrows had come. The fire guttered to extinction. Gary pulled hard on the reins, turning the horse, still on its hind legs. He urged the horse forward, stopping only when he was beside Larry and on that boy’s left side. George, who had been behind Larry, had already moved up and was on Larry’s right. From those positions, the two boys could protect the least experienced of their companions.

Arthur, in the rear, quickly assessed the situation. He’d seen the heat that Gary had hurled away from the brush fire, and had heard a scream from that direction. There! he thought. The second bowman, from the opposite side of the defile, stepped from concealment and fired. At Gary, Arthur thought. A flick of his hand sent the arrow harmlessly over the boys’ heads.

“Arthur! Behind you!” Gary called. Arthur wheeled just as two more archers stepped from behind the trees where they had lain in ambush.

That one, Arthur thought as he hurled his dagger. Impelled by Arthur’s strong right arm and a touch of magic the dagger buried itself in the man’s larynx. He dropped to his knees. He looked at Arthur. He fell headfirst down the slope, stopping only when his foot caught in an exposed tree root.

Arthur, however, was not watching. Even before his dagger was half-way to the man, Arthur had turned to the second ambusher. A thought sufficed to weaken the man’s bowstring. It broke, and lashed across his face. The man dropped his bow and howled. His foot slipped in the scree, and he fell. The hollow ‘thunk’ as his head split open on a boulder was lost in the rattle of the falling rocks.

Arthur turned to see George, dismounted with sword in hand. The boy faced a man at least a foot taller than himself. Arthur reached for magic, but George was faster. Unseen by the man, whose eyes fixed on the boy’s sword, George’s poniard struck. It penetrated the man’s chest just below his sternum, pushed through his aorta, and tore open his trachea. Blood impelled by a heart that did not know it was dead gushed from the man’s mouth.

The hills will distort the sound, Arthur thought as he sent out a pulse of magic. The echoes showed only the brigand who had been Gary’s first target, and he was moving swiftly away. Arthur dismounted and walked toward George. He stopped briefly when he reached Gary. “Are you all right?” he whispered. When Gary nodded, Arthur added, “Take Larry to where Aurorus stands. Give him water. Watch him. This is sudden and new.” Gary nodded.

George still stood over the dead brigand. The man’s blood dripped from George’s face, arms, and clothes. Before Arthur could speak, George looked at him. “It does smell like copper,” he said. The boy swayed. His face was pale. He’s going to faint, Arthur thought. Arthur reached out, but George blinked and stood tall. “Larry and Gary,” he gasped. “Are they—?”

“They’re fine, George,” Arthur said. “How about you? How do you feel?”

George carefully cleaned his sword, using the hem of his tunic and a great deal of boy magic, before putting it back in its sheath. Give him time, Arthur thought. Don’t press him.

“Hold me?” George said. “Please?”

Arthur held out his arms and took a half step toward George. The boy rushed into Arthur’s arms and tucked his head under the older boy’s chin. He’s not crying, Arthur thought.

“I want to cry,” George whispered. “But not now. Not until we’re safe.” He stepped from Arthur’s embrace. “Later? Will you hold me and let me cry, later?”

Arthur nodded.

They found shelter that night at a large, fortified farmstead. Arthur examined the magical field carefully, both passively and with active pulses, before approaching. He held George’s hand as he did so, hoping that the boy could learn by example what the great magic had burned into Arthur’s mind so many years ago. “I don’t know how to do this using only a spell,” Arthur said. “Although I’m sure there is one. For now, watch what I do.”

George nodded. “This could be really noisy, couldn’t it?” he asked. Arthur nodded.

*****

They had been given their own room in the boys’ wing of the house, and were undressing, gathering clothes and blankets, and preparing to bathe.

“Why have we not encountered more archers?” George asked. “And why did they start a fire instead of just shooting at Gary?”

“Most human archers aren’t very proficient,” Arthur said. “They’re more likely to hit a horse than its rider, and our horses are much more valuable than anything we’re likely to have in our packs or saddlebags.”

“So the fire was to make us stop so that we’d be easier targets,” George said. “And the two men behind us…they would have shot us from close range while we were paying attention to the fire.”

“If Gary hadn’t put out the fire,” Larry said, “we’d have been skewered and cooked.”

The boys laughed at Larry’s joke, but their laughter was strained.

“If you boys hadn’t done what you were supposed to do; if you’d wavered or panicked; if you hadn’t worked as a team…that’s exactly what would have happened. I’m very proud of you all,” Arthur said. “Now, how about a bath?”

A full moon shone through the shutters. It provided enough light for Arthur to find George among the sleeping boys. The boy was awake; the moonlight reflected from his open eyes. Arthur lay beside George and hugged him.

They lay together for a long time. Arthur felt George’s heartbeat and breathing slow. The boy’s alpha and theta waves weakened, and were replaced by beta waves. George had fallen asleep.

I guess he doesn’t need to cry, after all, Arthur said. I hope that is a good thing.