Interitus
Interitus
It was the month of Decemberis. The days were short, and the
nights were long. Soon, it would be the longest night of the
year. Hutch laughed whenever Starsky pointed that out, saying
that in Norway, the longest night of the year lasted twenty four hours,
and the sun never showed her face above the horizon, whereas here in
Rome, the Goddess Sol still drove Her fiery chariot for all to see.
That was fine with Starsky. He did not miss the endless nights in
Norway. The only good thing he had found in Norway had been
Hutch. Hutch and Viggo, he amended, watching as the great wolf
licked Hutch's hand. They were decorating the new Hall for
Yule. Yule was a Scandinavian festival that Hutch felt a yearning
to celebrate, and Starsky was eager to give his spouse anything she
desired. The Roman villa that was their main house was not built
for the huge Yule log fires that such a festival required, but the old
stone house in their new property next door was perfect. They’d
had a big new fireplace installed, and Hutch had ordered Yule logs from
her homeland. Now, they were decorating the hall with banners,
and candles, and great boughs of holly.
Hutch was very pregnant. Her body was carrying Starsky's
baby. In a few days, if all went well, they would be parents, and
Hutch would return to her male form. Hutch would be
relieved. Starsky would be happy for him, and it would be
wonderful to see his lover's masculine face once more. But
Starsky felt a small twinge of regret. He loved Hutch's feminine
body as well, and he would miss it. Of course, if he was very good,
perhaps Hutch might agree to take female form once in a while, though
Starsky had his doubts he could convince him to get pregnant again.
Hutch was singing a Yule carol. Something about holly and ivy and
the rising of the sun. Appropriate, thought Starsky. Soon,
Sol would be rising earlier and setting later, and this was something
to celebrate. Also, here in Rome, it was nearly the end of the
year, and the Festival of Calends. A time outside of time.
Slaves were free. Married people were unmarried. Whatever
you did at this time, must be forgiven and forgotten when the festival
was over.
Starsky watched his lover as she handed a bough of mistletoe to Mariko
to hang in a doorway. She said it was a custom of her homeland,
that any two people who stood under the mistletoe must kiss.
Starsky didn't like that idea, and said so. He threatened to
challenge anyone who kissed Hutch under the mistletoe to a duel.
Hutch said she had no appetite for bloody hearts at the moment, and
told him to behave himself, or he'd be sleeping in the barn with the
other animals.
Starsky loved sleeping with Hutch. Hutch was warm, and
comfortable. Right now, Starsky could put his hand on her belly,
and feel the heartbeat of their baby. He could feel it kick her,
and wriggle its tiny body around in preparation for being born.
Lately, after a time of drought, they had started making love
again. The midwives said this was a good idea, that the release
would make Hutch more comfortable, and help her sleep.
Hutch smiled at Starsky across the Hall. She was wearing one of
her most beautiful red gowns, and her hair was up, and wreathed with
flowers. Her eyes were bright and her skin was glowing. It
had been a long time since she'd had one of her seizures, and they knew
the baby was healthy. Starsky smiled back.
Hutch gasped, and clutched her belly. She cried out, and Starsky
ran to her side.
'Call the midwives!' he ordered, and Ignatios ran to do so.
'I'm fine. Really I am,' said Hutch. 'It's probably just a
twinge, but... Oh! That was fast. Too fast. They
shouldn't be that close together. Starsky! Hold my
hand. It hurts.'
Starsky led Hutch over to one of the sofas, and helped her to sit down.
'Starsky!' she said. 'I think I'm really having this baby.
I hope it's ready to be born, because it's going to be born whether
it's ready or not.'
The midwives joined them, looking dubious, but after talking to Hutch,
they changed their minds. They helped her into one of the nearby
chambers and chased Starsky out.
'This is a Woman's Mystery,' they said. 'No man may witness a
birth. You know that, Mr. Starsky.'
'Mystery?' asked Starsky. 'What mystery? I know how babies
are born. They get out the same passage they got in.'
'Really Mr. Starsky,' said one of the midwives. 'Don't be crude.'
She shut the door in his face, and he was left to pace up and down in
the hallway, and listen to Hutch moan as the labour pains increased.
'I'll go in, and keep her company, Honoured Father,' said Mariko.
'Don't worry. She’s in good hands.'
He sent a message to Marcus and Sweet Angel, and they joined him in his
vigil. He could hear the women in the labour room chanting,
calling on the Goddess of Childbirth. He was praying to every God
and Goddess he knew, and some he made up on the spot, to be on the safe
side. Hutch's cries of pain were growing louder. Marcus
said that might be a good sign that the baby was nearly born.
Sweet Angel was looking worried, however. She'd decided earlier
that Hutch probably had a large enough audience already, and that she
wouldn't bother her, unless Hutch asked. Now, she got to her feet
and started for the chamber.
‘I’ll go and see how she’s doing, David,’ she said.
Before she reached the door, however, Hutch gave a great scream, and
called a name.
'Starsky!'
Starsky ran to the door, and kicked it in, ignoring the cries of
outrage from the other women inside. Hutch was pale, and covered
in sweat. The bed was running with blood. One of the
midwives had a baby, all wrinkled and red, in her arms.
Hutch’s eyes were wide and frightened.
'Starsky,' she said. 'Hold my hands. Hold my heart.'
Starsky pulled her into his arms, and held her close.
'It's over, beloved,' he said. 'The baby is here, and everything
is fine.'
'No,' she whispered. 'The baby is well, but I can't hold
on. Hold me, Starsky.'
Hutch's heart stopped beating.
Starsky watched as his lover's eyes dimmed. He felt her body
change in his arms. It was slack, and empty now. Starsky
had seen many people die, and he knew the signs, but in this new
context, the signs made no sense. Other people died. He had
never really believed that Hutch would die. Hutch was a Shaman,
and a powerful Mage. He had died already, by all the Gods.
How could he die again?
It was dangerous for a woman to give birth, he knew. As dangerous
as going to war was for a man. But he had never believed that
Hutch would die giving birth to their baby. Their baby was a
special miracle, even more miraculous than other babies.
He gazed into his lover's cold eyes. He shook her, but she made
no sound.
'Hutch!' he screamed. He heard voices far off in the
distance. Wails of grief, as his household mourned. He felt
a hand on his shoulder, and looked up into Marcus' eyes. They
were streaming with tears. Mariko and Sweet Angel were weeping,
and tearing their hair and clothes. Viggo was howling.
'Marc,' he said. 'Hutch lost so much blood. Do something, Marc.
Put it back. Someone put it back.'
'We can't, David. There's nothing we can do. I'm so sorry.'
Starsky realized then that it was true. Hutch had died. It
was impossible, but she had died. He let her fall back onto the
bed. He supposed he was wailing with all the others, but all he
knew was that he felt as cold and empty as the grave. He lay down
beside her, as if he were joining her in death.
*********************
Starsky had no idea how long he'd been lost in darkness, or what had
roused him from it. Then he heard a strange sound, a high
wailing, much more piercing than any of the other wails.
'Who's that?' he asked.
'Master?' asked one of his slaves. He couldn't remember her name,
but then, he wasn't sure of his own.
'Who is crying?' he asked. 'It sounds like a baby.'
'It is, Master. It's the baby. The baby that was just born.'
'Why doesn't someone take care of it?' he asked.
'We can't, Master,' she answered. 'You haven't accepted it.'
The world reeled around Starsky. He had forgotten the baby.
Hutch's baby. The baby Hutch had died bringing to life.
'Bring it to me,' he whispered.
The child had not been cared for, but that was his fault, not the fault
of the slaves. Any new-born baby had to be accepted by the
Paterfamilias, or his representative. Before then, it was not
human. If Starsky wished, he could lay the child out on a hillside
above Rome, to die. Or, the theory was, to be taken in by a
childless couple, and raised as their own.
The child was a boy. He had Hutch's light blue eyes, and
Starsky's dark, crinkling hair. His face was red, and twisted
with fury at being neglected. He was demanding to be cared for
and loved. Yes. He was their child.
'Send for the nurse,' he ordered. 'The child is my son.'
He cradled the baby in his arms, and nestled back against Hutch's side.
They were together, for this short space of time, he thought.
Soon, Hutch would be gone, forever.
***************
It was a cold, grey morning. Starsky opened his eyes. Hutch
lay beside him. Her body had been washed, and dressed in one of
her robes. White, not red. White for death.
He looked around the room. Everyone was asleep, worn out from
mourning. Even Viggo was sleeping, curled up on Hutch's cold feet, as
if to keep them warm. Nothing would warm them, now.
Off in a corner, the nurse was feeding their baby. Starsky got up
from the bed, and walked over to her chair. The baby looked much
happier now. He was washed, and fed, and dressed in one of the
beautiful robes that Hutch had prepared for his birth day.
The nurse looked up at him. ‘He's a beautiful baby, Sir,' she said.
'Of course,' said Starsky. 'He's Hutch's baby.'
He reached out, and touched the baby's hair. The baby woke up. He
looked up at his father, and his eyes were so old, and so wise, and so
much like Hutch's. Starsky felt a wail rise up in his
chest. He managed to hold it in until he got out of the
room. It would not be good, he thought, to frighten such a tiny
child, on its first day in this world. There would be time enough
in his life, to learn what grief was.
Starsky wandered over to the villa courtyard, and sat down on Hutch's
bench. He remembered the night he'd spent here nine months
ago. Hutch had been abducted, and Starsky despaired that he'd
ever find him.
Viggo trotted out to join him. He nudged Starsky's foot, and
whined.
'I'm sorry, Viggo,' said Starsky. 'We can't go looking for Hutch
this time. He's dead. He's on his way to Elysium, or
whatever the Vikings call their Land of the Dead.'
Viggo whined again, and looked around the courtyard, as if he expected
Hutch to come walking in. Could Viggo see Hutch's spirit?
That was possible. Starsky had never seen a spirit on his own,
only those called up by Hutch. Gillian, and the Hooded Spirit.
Gillian. The Hooded Spirit.
Where were they? Had they been set free by Hutch's
death? Or were they still bound to him? Were they on their
way to Elysium, as well? If they'd been set free, shouldn't
the Hooded Spirit be wreaking havoc, creating despair in every
available living soul around? Especially in Starsky. The Hooded Spirit
hated Starsky. Without Hutch to control it, the evil spirit
surely would have occupied Starsky's body by now. It must still
be bound to Hutch. That was interesting. Even in death,
Hutch was powerful.
Viggo nudged Starsky's foot again, and turned to look off into the
distance. East. No, not East, Starsky thought. North
East. Toward the Apennines. The mountains. Hutch had loved
the mountains. That was where he should be buried, not here, in one of
the stone houses of the dead, but in the wilderness. In the
mountains. Starsky remembered the morning he'd found Hutch out
here in the courtyard, looking for the mountains. Had Hutch's
search been prophetic? His spirit might be looking for the
mountains at this moment, if he hadn't already found Elysium.
Starsky wasn't an expert on the souls of the recently dead, but he
remembered that they stayed around their homes and families for a
time. How long a time? Could Starsky communicate with Hutch
somehow?
Viggo barked, and turned to look once more toward the Apennines.
Perhaps Hutch was talking with Viggo, and trying to tell Starsky what
he wanted. Hutch must want to be buried in the mountains, and
whatever Hutch's spirit wanted, that was what Starsky would do.
'Honoured Father?'
Starsky turned. Mariko was standing behind him, her beautiful
face worn with grief. Starsky got to his feet, and took her in
his arms.
'Yes,' he said. 'I am still your father. We're still a
family. If that is what you want.'
I must be strong, he thought. This familias wasn't what I wanted
for my life. It was what Hutch wanted. What he
needed. His own familias was cold, and unloving, and he longed
for the closeness we created over the last year. But now, I can't
just abandon our family. Mariko and Sweet Angel. The
baby. Ignatios. The slaves. They all need me, so I
must be strong. I must accept that they belong to me, that
they're mine to protect and care for, even if I must do it alone.
Someone stepped out of the villa, into the courtyard. He was
carrying a knife in his hands, and offered it to Starsky, hilt first.
'You told me once that you wanted to kill me for what I had done to
Ken,' Cecil Hutchinson told him. 'You said that if he died, our
armistice was over. Here. Take your vengeance. His
death is my fault.'
Starsky stared into the man's eyes, trying to judge if he were sincere.
It seemed unlikely, but he was standing there, unarmed, and offering
his bared chest for Starsky to cut open.
'His death isn't your fault,' Starsky told him. 'It's mine.
Giving birth to the baby killed him, and I was the one who made him
pregnant in the first place. If anyone should die, it should be
me. But I don't have that option. And I can't stand around
and argue over who is to blame. My familias needs me. We
have to arrange Hutch's funeral, and take care of his baby. Why
don't you do something useful for Hutch, for once in your life?
Go, and call the household together, so we can pray for his spirit.'
Cecil Hutchinson looked as if he wanted to protest being given the
duties of a servant, but he nodded and put away his knife and went to
do what he was told.
**********************
Starsky stood in the doorway of the Atrium, gathering his
strength. His familias was waiting, and he must lead the prayers
for Hutch's soul. Mariko and Sweet Angel stood one on each side of him,
and Marcus was behind him. Starsky held Hutch's baby in his arms.
The tiny child was asleep, full of milk and his family's love, and at
peace.
As they walked into the Atrium, the household fell to their knees.
'Last night, we lost a member of our familias, and gained a new one,'
said Starsky. 'My lover, my husband, and the mother of my child
has left me, to journey on to Elysium. I will never cease to
mourn him, and I will take no other mate, and I would go to him in
Elysium, but he gave me an important charge, when he died. He
left me this child, and all of our family to care for. Our
daughters will help me with this, and we will neglect no one.
Before we pray for Hutch's spirit, I want you all to welcome his son
into our family. My own familias came from a place called Judea,
long ago. I have decided to give this boy a name from my
homeland. I name you Aaron. It means 'light', because you
will be my light in the darkness.'
'Fiat!' said the household, with one voice.
Starsky laid the baby on the household altar, and prayed to the
household Gods to accept their new charge. Beloved, if your
spirit is still here, watching to see what I have done, be at peace,
thought Starsky.
***************************
It was the noon hour, before they set out for the
Apennines. The cortege was made up of every limousine in
the Imperial household, and an honour guard of Praetorians. They
carried the Imperial banner with them, edged in white. White for
death.
The Emperor and Empress had come to see them off, dressed in mourning,
their hair shorn, and their faces streaked with tears. 'I have
placed the Palace in mourning, until the evening,' said the Empress
Makeda. 'Hutch was Marcus' foster brother, and I loved him as my
own son.'
Starsky remembered the last time they had visited the Apennines, in the
late fall. Hutch was already heavy with child, and not very
comfortable, but the dangerous time had passed. She was no longer
having seizures, and it seemed certain that she could carry the baby to
term. They had spent several nights sleeping under the
stars. Making love in the woods, on a bed of dry leaves, wrapped
in a blanket.
Now, Starsky would bury him there.
It was almost dark, when they reached their campsite. Most of the
household was with them, but not all. Some servants had stayed behind
to care for the villa, and to pray to the household Gods. Starsky
had not left Aaron at home, however. He intended to care
for the baby, as if he had been his mother.
They set up a camp, and built a pyre for Hutch's body. Starsky
would light the fire at dawn. Viggo watched the building of the
pyre for a while, then barked at Starsky, and took off into the
woods. Starsky wondered if Viggo would ever return, or if the
loss of Hutch meant he would find a wolf pack, and become its alpha
male.
It was completely dark, and very cold, before all the preparations were
finished. Viggo had not returned, and Starsky felt lonely.
But the wolf was a wild animal. His only true tie to the world of
humans had been Hutch's love. Starsky leaned back against a tree,
and watched the campfire burn. He imagined the flames licking
Hutch’s flesh. The fiercest of all lovers, burning him down to
the bone, and freeing his spirit to journey to Elysium. Starsky
must remember that. Hutch would be in a better place, where there
was no pain, only endless peace. One day, Starsky would join him
there, and they would never be parted. He could tell Hutch that
he had cared for their familias, and their baby, and that all was well
with them. Hutch would be happy, and they would love each other
until the end of time.
Starsky closed his eyes, and imagined that scene. Hutch would
smile, and take Starsky's hand. He would not have noticed the passing
of time. Hutch would be young, no older than when he had died, though
decades may have passed. He would wonder why Starsky's hair was
white, and why he was so wrinkled. He would laugh, and kiss
Starsky, and Starsky would explain, and tell Hutch all that had
happened. 'Thank you, my love,' Hutch would say, and they would
walk together through the green hills of Elysium, forever.
Starsky felt a cold nose touch his hand. He opened his
eyes. Viggo was sitting there, watching him. He held a
branch of some sort in his teeth. He dropped it at Starsky's
feet, and glanced over his shoulder, toward the fire. What was
this?
Viggo nudged the branch, and Starsky's foot, and looked toward the fire
again. He seemed to be saying that he wanted Starsky to put the
branch in the fire. Well, perhaps Hutch was communicating with
him, and this was his idea. The wolf was nervous around the fire,
and couldn't get near enough to burn the branch himself. Starsky
got up, and put the stick into the fire. After a few moments, a
pungent smoke rose from the flames. Starsky coughed, and started
to look for the pail of water to put the smoky fire out, but the smoke
was making him dizzy. It was filling the entire campsite, and his
calls for help were ignored. Everyone seemed to be deeply asleep, and
thus they didn't notice when, a few moments later, a line of dark grey
wolves strolled into the camp, and sat down in a circle around Hutch's
funeral pyre.
Wolves! Starsky remembered the wolves that had joined them at
Perugia, just outside the forest of Leprosus. Hutch had turned
into a wolf himself. The Goddess Hecate and Her Hounds had come,
and.... Were these the same wolves? And if so, why were they
here? To sing Hutch to his final rest?
Viggo licked Starsky's hand, and tugged at it with his teeth. He
looked over at the other wolves. Perhaps he was asking Starsky to
join them. Starsky supposed he could. Everyone else was
asleep, drugged by the smoke. That smoke still drifted about the
campsite, creating an eerie sense of unreality. A wisp of smoke
would drift across the funeral pyre, and Starsky would imagine for a
moment that it was Hutch's ghost.
Hutch's ghost. Did Starsky want to see Hutch's ghost? Would the
pain of seeing Hutch, but not being able to touch him, be too much to
bear? Would Hutch's ghost recognize Starsky? Would Hutch's ghost
blame Starsky for his death, the way Starsky blamed himself?
Starsky joined the wolves in their vigil beside Hutch's
body. The night wore on. The smoke continued to drift
about, making Starsky's head spin. He would feel drowsy, and
almost fall asleep. Then the smoke would clear, and Starsky would
wake and look around. The wolves would still be sitting by the
pyre. Waiting. Waiting for what? Starsky would wonder, and
almost turn to ask Viggo. The smoke would drift by again, and
he'd forget his question.
The moon rose. It was a full moon. That was strange,
thought Starsky. He was sure that the night before, the moon
was... A puff of smoke made him dizzy. He forgot about the
strangeness of the moon. The wolves were howling, now.
Raising their heads to the sky. They howled at the moon, and
Starsky felt the urge to join them. Something was crawling up his
spine, something wilder than he'd ever known. Grief, he thought.
The grief of losing your mate. Not only someone you loved, but
the one who shared your soul, so that now, and forever, until you died
and could join him in Elysium, you were condemned to wander the earth
with only half your soul. The other half would be always calling
to you to join it. Every night when you fell asleep, you would
almost wish not to wake up here, in this world, but there, in the next
world, with the rest of your soul.
Starsky howled with the other wild wolves, and the night was filled
with their music. The music of grief. The music of sorrow.
The music of mourning for your soul.
A cloud covered the moon. Only the stars, and the flickering,
smoky campfire, lit their world. That, and the gleam of wolf
eyes. The smoke was drifting, drifting, drifting. Starsky
began to see shapes in it. Shapes of ghostly wolves, and of the
ghostly deer the ghostly wolves were chasing. Was he witnessing
the drugged dreams of the other wolves? Why wasn't he having his
own dreams? He didn't want to see the ghosts of deer. He
wanted his own Ghost, no matter how angry he might be.
'Hutch,' he whispered. 'Appear to me. Let me beg your
forgiveness. I didn't have the time, before you died.'
A white ghostly figure rose from the pyre. It floated gracefully
to the ground. It looked around for a moment, as if confused, then
started off, into the woods.
'Hutch!' Starsky cried. 'Wait for me. Don't leave without
saying goodbye.'
But Hutch ignored him, striding into the darkness, naked and alone.
'No, I won’t let you go alone,' said Starsky. ‘Come on,
Viggo. Let’s protect him, this one last time.’
Viggo and the other wolves joined him, following Hutch on his journey
to the Land of the Dead.
********************
They had been travelling for two days now, or two nights rather, for
the sun had never once risen above the horizon, though the moon was
full the whole time. Of course, thought Starsky. This is
winter in Norway. We are in Hutch's world, the world of his
memories. Perhaps this time is before he met me, and that's why
he doesn't even see me. Perhaps that's why he won't let us stop
and rest. He doesn't know I'm here.
Starsky kept following, unwilling to give in, and let Hutch journey to
the Land of the Dead alone. Starsky was tough, and he'd taken
part in forced marches before. But finally, on the third night,
he broke down.
'Hutch. Beloved. Please listen. You're a Shaman, even
if you are dead. You can hear me if you try. Please, let's
stop for a while, and rest.'
Hutch stopped in his tracks. He turned and stared at Starsky, as
if seeing him for the first time. He didn't speak, but he nodded.
The wolves hunted, and Viggo brought Starsky a rabbit. Starsky
built a fire, and roasted the meat. He found some dried berries,
and the roots of wild onions. There was a stream nearby, and they
all drank. All but Hutch. Hutch stood like a statue,
staring ahead toward the rising mountains. They were barely
visible, lit only by the moon and the stars. They loomed before them,
like the promise of a future in Elysium.
Starsky lay back against the roots of a tree. He didn't want to
close his eyes, but they grew too heavy to keep open. He was sure
Viggo would wake him, if Hutch started off again.
Starsky was awakened not by Viggo, but by Hutch. Starsky felt the
coldness of his presence, pushing him rudely aside. He opened his
eyes, and looked up to see Hutch staring down at the roots of the tree
where Starsky was sleeping. Hutch pulled at a root, and the
ground gave way, and opened under them. The roots of the tree
formed stairs, into the earth, and Hutch started down. Starsky
followed.
The world under the ground was darker than the endless night of a
Norway winter. Here, they did not even have the light of the full
moon to guide them. Starsky followed Hutch, and Viggo followed
Starsky, and the wolves followed Viggo. Deep, deep into the earth
they went. Down, down the twisted roots of the tree. Below
them, Starsky could hear the clang of hammers, and he could smell
smoke. What tale was this he had fallen into?
They emerged at last, into a large chamber lit by many fires.
Short, squat men were running about, forging metal into swords.
No. Not men, thought Starsky. Dwarves.
'Nibelung,' said Hutch. It was the first word he had spoken since
he rose from his funeral pyre.
'Nibelung,' Starsky agreed, though the word meant nothing to him.
If Hutch said these were Nibelung, then Nibelung they were.
Hutch turned to him and smiled. 'We're journeying together, I
think,' he said. 'Travelling down Yggdrasil. To her very
roots.'
'Yes,' said Starsky. 'Yggdrasil.'
He knew that name. Hutch had told him about the World Tree.
They were travelling the World Tree together, and Hutch had seen him,
even if he didn't know him. Starsky would remind him who he
was. Who they were.
'We have been on the World Tree together before,' he told Hutch.
'Have we?' asked Hutch, clearly amazed.
'In our dreams,' said Starsky. 'Or our visions, if you like.'
'Then we know each other? I don't remember your face. You
must have changed it. You're a trickster, like Loki. But
that's good. Loki is my favourite God. After Odin, I mean.'
'Loki,' said Starsky. 'Odin.'
Hutch smiled in agreement.
A dwarf -- a Nibelung -- called out a challenge.
'Who goes there? Who enters the Realm of the Nibelung without
permission?'
Hutch stepped forward. Starsky, Viggo and their band of wolves
followed.
'A ghost,' said the dwarf. 'A ghost, and a Shaman, and their
familiars. Is this a spirit journey?'
'I am trying to find my way to Valhalla,' said Hutch.
'Well, you're going the wrong way,' said the Nibelung. 'Valhalla
is that way.' He pointed up.
'Down there you may speak with the Norns,' another dwarf told them.
'We will do that,' said Hutch. 'Since we've travelled so far.'
'Stay here tonight,' the first dwarf suggested. 'Your companion
looks tired, and hungry.'
Hutch nodded, and they joined the Nibelung for supper.
***************
The Nibelung were a jovial bunch when it came to eating and drinking.
They sang Nibelung songs, in their own language, and Starsky sang
along, making up his own words. Once or twice, he noticed that
Hutch was watching and listening and almost laughing. Starsky
nearly forgot his grief. Hutch was with him, even if he was a
ghost.
The Nibelung began to tell stories. Stories about the Gods, about
swords, and golden rings. Hutch added his own tales. Odin,
and the World Tree. Loki, the God of Fire. He seemed to be
enjoying himself.
I took him from his own land, Starsky thought. And then I killed
him. I only wanted to love him, and protect him. But it all went
so wrong. He closed his eyes.
He felt a soft, cool, mist brush against his face.
'You are sad,' Hutch said. 'What's wrong?'
Starsky opened his eyes. Hutch was leaning forward, almost
touching him. Starsky longed for that touch, but he would never
feel it again. How could he explain that to Hutch, without causing him
unnecessary sorrow? Hutch had died, and was on his way to the
Land of the Dead. How could Starsky burden him with his own
guilt?
And yet, how could he lie? How could he pretend not to love
Hutch? Pretend they were only accidental companions on this
journey?
'You said we were friends,' Hutch pointed out. 'Can't you tell me
what's wrong?'
'I want to tell you, but I'm not sure I can. Or that I should.'
'Why not? I should know the truth. Don't try to keep it
from me.'
'The truth might hurt you,' said Starsky.
'I'm a ghost. How can I feel pain?'
'You might, if I reminded you of your life, and the pain you felt then.'
'But all life is pain. If you feel pain, you're alive.
Death is painless, and joyless. Right now, I'm numb. But I
can feel sympathy for your pain. That means something, I
know. Something important. Explain it to me.'
'You are a ghost, and I am still alive,' Starsky told him. 'We
can't touch.'
'And this hurts you?' asked Hutch.
'Yes,' said Starsky. 'We were very close. But it is my
fault you died.'
'Is that why you're travelling with me? Are you bound to me,
somehow?'
'I couldn't let you go on to the next world alone. I had to watch
over you. Be sure you were safe. Yes. I’m bound to you.'
'I wish I could remember you, but my memories are all jumbled. I
seem to be several people. One of them was a woman. She was
a good person, but she made mistakes, and caused pain to others.
Then, I am a man, an evil man. He killed many innocent people, by
intent. Did you intend to hurt me, or did you make a mistake?'
'I made a mistake,' Starsky told him. 'But I love you. The
mistake was made out of love. But Hutch, you are not that
woman, or that evil man. They are spirits. You bound them to your
spirit, and so they travel with you, to the Land of the Dead.'
Hutch seemed to search his own soul for a moment, then nodded.
'Thank you,' he said. 'You are right. I'm beginning to see
more clearly now. I can almost remember you, and that is good. We
are journeying to speak to the Norns. They spin the threads of
all the lives in all the times in Middle Earth. They will tell us
why the threads of our lives are so entwined. You should
sleep. When you've had enough rest, we can set out again.'
Starsky agreed. His grief felt lighter, now that he had talked
with Hutch, and found some forgiveness. They had a long journey
ahead, to speak to these mysterious Norns. Starsky closed his
eyes and slept, curled up next to his love.
***********************
It was Viggo's warm, rough tongue on his face that woke Starsky.
The wolf's eyes looked concerned. Hutch was staring down the
trunk of the World Tree, clearly needing to move on. Starsky
found a jug of water, and had a long drink. He grabbed a loaf of
bread and wrapped it in a discarded napkin. Viggo and the other wolves
had hunted, it seemed. One of them was finishing off the remains
of a rat, or a mouse. Good, thought Starsky. As long as you don't
expect me to eat it.
Hutch was distant again, almost as if he'd forgotten Starsky.
Almost, but not quite. He didn't speak, but he did seem to notice
if Starsky slowed down, and he waited for him. Once, when Starsky
stumbled on a twist in the Tree's root, he reached out to catch him,
stopping just before his hand would have touched him. Or not
touched him, thought Starsky. That thought scared him, that Hutch
would touch him, and his touch would pass right through, as if Hutch
were not really there.
The hammering of the Nibelungs faded into the distance. This far
into the earth, Starsky could feel the oppressive weight of the world
above. The weight pressed on him, at times almost crushing
him. It awoke terrifying images in his mind. Images of the
ground collapsing above, and burying them here forever. Then, he
would look ahead at Hutch's ghostly figure. If they were buried
by the earth, they would be together. A niggling memory came to
him. A memory of a vow to take care of someone. There was a
reason why he should not die, here with Hutch. But the darkness
of the depths of the earth had begun to erase all his memories of the
world above. The world of daylight, and the rising of the sun.
He heard rustlings in the earth around them. Small creatures
going about their daily lives. The shifting of the earth, as
something heavy moved above. The soft sounds of distant
music. The turning of a spinning wheel. Voices.
'The Norns,' said Hutch.
'Who are the Norns, Hutch?' asked Starsky.
'Past. Present. Future. Fate. Becoming.
Necessity. They live at the root of Yggdrasil, and They spin the
web of fate for all men.'
'The Three Fates!' said Starsky. 'And we're going to talk to
Them.'
Hutch nodded. Starsky shuddered.
'Are you cold?' asked Hutch.
'No,' said Starsky. 'I'm afraid, and I'm not ashamed to say
so. How many men meet Those who can decide their fate with one
stroke? The Norns could end my life in an instant, if They wanted
to.'
'They're nice women,' said Hutch. 'Mostly.'
Starsky could hear the voices again. They were chanting, and as
Starsky came nearer, he could make out the words.
'In the midst of darkness, light; in the midst of death, life; in the
midst of chaos, order. In the midst of order, chaos; in the midst
of life, death; in the midst of light, darkness. Thus it has ever
been, thus it is now, and thus it shall always be.'
'Amen,' said Starsky.
Once again the darkness was pierced by the light. This time,
however, they were not in a fiery chamber, like the underground land of
the Nibelung. This world was vast. The vastness of
Eternity spread out before them. In the centre was the base of
Yggdrasil. Vast branches and roots of the World Tree spread out
in every direction.
Three women tended the Tree. They dipped water from a well, and
poured it over the roots. One of Them was old, and she looked
over her shoulder constantly. The second was middle-aged, and she
looked bravely forward.
The third was young, or appeared to be, from what Starsky could tell.
But her face was veiled. She held a closed scroll in the crook of
her elbow.
'The scroll tells what the future will hold,' said Hutch. 'Skuld
does not want to read it, and I can sympathize.'
'Is that why you didn't want to discuss the things you said when you
were ill?' asked Starsky.
Hutch had visions, when he was taken by the seizures. He had
spoken of things that might happen in the future. But when Marcus
and Starsky tried to discuss his visions with him, Hutch had turned
their questions aside. Had he foreseen his death? He had
spoken of blood. Perhaps he meant his own blood, that he lost
when he gave birth to Aaron.
Hutch turned to him. 'Was I ill?' he asked. 'Is that how I
died?'
'No,' said Starsky, quickly. He didn't want to tell Hutch how he
had died. Why had he come on this journey with him? Just as
in life, so he did in death. He caused Hutch pain, without
intending to.
'Then how did I die?'
'You died in childbirth,' said Starsky.
Hutch simply stared at him. He seemed to have lost the power of
speech again. Starsky looked away, unable to bear his lover's
silent scrutiny. The Norns were dipping water from the well again, and
the sight made him thirsty. The three women moved off to water
Yggdrasil. Starsky walked up to the well, and lowered the water
pail. He raised it again, full of water, and dipped some out with
his hands. The water tasted strange.
'What are you doing?' called one of the Norns. It was the oldest,
the one who kept looking back. The other Norns turned as well, at
her cry.
'I was thirsty,' said Starsky.
'You drank from Urd's Well,' said the youngest Norn. What had
Hutch called her? Skuld. That was it.
'I am sorry, Skuld,' said Starsky. 'I didn't mean to do anything
wrong. I was thirsty, and the water looked good.'
'It should be good water,' said the oldest of the Norn. 'My well
taps into the Water of Healing. That is why we pour it on
Yggdrasil.'
Water of Healing? Starsky looked at Hutch. Could the water
heal him.
'Your friend cannot drink the water,' said the middle-aged Norn. 'He is
a spirit, and spirits cannot drink.'
'Then what good is the Water of Healing? What good has it done
for me? I'm not the one who needs it. It is my friend who
needs it, and I can't give it to him. Can I pass on the healing
to him?'
'Don't question the judgements of the Orlog,' said Urd, the old one.
'Lest they turn on you, and render worse judgement.'
'The Orlog?'
'The laws of the universe,' said Skuld. 'Even we obey them.
The Orlog must have led you here, or you would not have found your way.'
'But why did you come?' asked the middle-aged Norn.
'Verdandi wonders that which we all wish to know.' said Urd.
Hutch stepped forward. 'I died once before, long ago,' he said.
'I was looking for the Tree Spirits who took me to Yggdrasil. I
wanted to go home.'
'Is this home?' asked Urd.
'Not exactly,' said Hutch. 'Something feels wrong.'
'Something is wrong,' said Verdandi. 'You are looking in the
wrong place. You are looking in the past for your home, but you
have moved on. You should be looking in your present.'
'The past influences the present,' said Urd. 'It is a very
powerful force.'
'Yes,' said Verdandi. 'But it is not this man's home.'
'Where is my home?' asked Hutch.
'With your heart,' said Urd. 'Find your heart, and you will find
your home.'
'How can I find my heart?' asked Hutch. 'A spirit has no heart.'
'Hutch,' said Starsky. 'You gave your heart to me to keep
for you. How can I give it back?'
'You can't,' said Verdandi. 'Such a gift is not returnable.
You belong together, through all Space and Time, on all the branches of
the World Tree.'
'Then what shall I do?' asked Hutch. 'I am a spirit, and he still
lives.'
'Either he must die, or you must live again,' said Skuld.
'I would die for Hutch,' said Starsky. 'But our familias needs
me. We have a child, a new-born son. How can I leave him?'
'Then Hutch must live again,' said Urd. 'You must petition the
Orlog.'
'How?' asked Starsky.
'I will read the Web of Fate for you,' said Verdandi. She walked
over to a large loom, and studied the Web that hung there. Hutch
was staring at the veiled Skuld, as if she fascinated him.
'Why do you stare at me?' asked the Norn.
'I have met you before, I'm sure.'
'I don't remember you,' said Skuld.
'Of course you don't remember me,' said Hutch. 'You see only the
future.'
'No. I fear to see the future.'
'I know. I see the future myself. Sometimes. When I
am ill. I forget the present then, so I understand. The
present depends on the past. The future depends on the present.
What depends on the future?'
The conversation was becoming difficult for Starsky to follow. He
walked over to Urd, and bowed.
'You remind me of a friend of ours,' he said.
'Ah. The Goddess Mlukukh,' said Urd.
'Yes. The Goddess of Love. She has recently renewed her
powers, and is wreaking havoc in the Subura.'
'Good,' said Urd. 'I approve of feisty old women. But you
have a question to ask me, don't you child?'
Starsky supposed he was a child, in Urd's eyes, so he didn't begrudge
the title.
'I was wondering about Hutch,' he said. 'Why does he insist that
I'm his Lord, and then not obey me?'
Urd laughed. 'Do you want him to obey you?' she asked.
'No!' said Starsky, horrified. 'Of course not. Not usually,
at least. I'm just curious why....'
'You hold his heart in your keeping,' said the Norn. 'He bows to
that guardianship. To the supremacy of Love.'
'I see,' said Starsky. 'I think.'
'Good,' said Urd. 'I approve of men who think.'
Verdandi had finished her perusal of the Web. 'The Orlog may be
petitioned through an intermediary,' she said. 'Go to Valhalla,
and ask Odin to intervene.'
'Odin!' said Hutch.
'Yes,' said Urd. 'Odin is a Seidhrman, like you. He
understands the powers of a shaman, better than we do.'
'Then we must climb back up Yggdrasil?' asked Starsky, wearily.
'No,' said Verdandi. 'Valhalla is ahead of you. There.'
Starsky looked where she pointed. He could see a great
rainbow. 'But the Nibelung told us Valhalla was up there,' he
said, pointing up. 'And you were below us.'
'You have come around in a circle,' said Verdandi. 'Like the
serpent who bites his tail. Just walk ahead, and over the Rainbow
Bridge, and you will find Odin.'
'Thank you,' said Hutch. And he led Starsky on, toward Valhalla.
**************************
'Valhalla is the home of the Gods,' Hutch told him, as they
walked. 'The only mortals who can go there, are men who die in
battle. You are not dead, and I died in childbirth. That is
strange to me. I didn't know I was a woman.'
'You were only a woman temporarily,' Starsky explained. 'You
wanted to try it out, to see what it was like.'
Hutch turned to him, astonished. 'Really,' he said. 'Well,
I found out, didn't I?'
They walked on.
'I was joking,' said Starsky, after a while. 'You turned into a
woman to escape imprisonment and torture. Then, well, you got
pregnant.'
'By you,' said Hutch. 'That's why you think it's your fault I
died. Well, it wasn't, so get over your guilt. I know one or two
things about myself. One thing I know, is that I do nothing that I'm
forced to do. Not by you, not by anyone.'
Starsky bowed his head.
'The other thing I know, is that I love you. I don't remember
you, but I remember that I love you. I don't know why I love you,
but who understands love? It is a force of chaos and a force of
darkness, I think.'
'I think it's a force of order and light,' said Starsky, deeply
offended.
'They're the same things,' said Hutch.
Starsky decided to give up trying to understand Hutch. They
walked on. The Rainbow Bridge drew nearer. A God guarded it, and
he shone like the sun, like Apollo.
'Bifrost,' said Hutch. 'The Bridge to Valhalla. That is
Heimdall, the God who guards the bridge. By all accounts, he
shouldn't let us in....'
'You were sent by the Norns,' Heimdall called out, as they approached.
'I heard you converse with them. Odin is waiting.'
Heimdall smiled a golden smile, stepped aside, and waved them on,
across the Rainbow Bridge, that Hutch called Bifrost.
The bridge was indeed a rainbow, and Starsky didn't dare to look down,
after his one terrified glance. He was walking on air, over a
bottomless gorge. Across the bridge lay Valhalla, a great golden
hall, and he concentrated on its beauty, and on Hutch's words.
Hutch loved him. Hutch forgave him. Hutch didn't think he had
done anything wrong.
Two huge ravens flew to meet them.
'Huginn and Munninn,' said Hutch. 'Thought and Memory.'
The ravens flew around them, then led them on, into the golden hall of
the Gods.
Odin sat upon his throne. He stepped down as they entered.
He was tall, and dressed in tattered, but colourful rags. His hat
was tilted over one eye. The two ravens flew to the God, and
landed one on each shoulder.
'Well,' said Odin. 'Look what the Norns have sent me.'
'They said you could help us, Odin,' said Hutch.
'And why should I?' asked the God.
'Yes, why? We are not warriors who have died in battle.'
'But you could be, they say. They have read interesting things in
your web. They say you share one soul, and one heart.
I think that's a handicap, but they don't agree. Women are
sentimental. But the Norns should not be ignored by anyone, not
even by me. So, I have agreed to help you. I will fly you
back to Midgard, on my horse Sleipnir. But at a price.
Everything has a price.'
'What must we pay you, Odin?' asked Hutch.
'I don't know,' said the God. 'What do you have to give?'
'Hutch has nothing,' Starsky spoke up. 'He's dead, he's a spirit,
he doesn't even have a coin to pay the Ferryman.'
'He is a spirit, or rather, he is three spirits bound in one. A
true bargain,' said Odin. 'But you. What do you have to give me?'
'I'm not sure what you want,' said Starsky. 'Or need.'
'Well,' said Odin. 'How much is your friend worth to you?'
'I would die for him, if that's what you want,' said Starsky.
'And what use would that be to me? I don't need your paltry
life. No. Let's see. When I hung on Yggdrasil for
nine days, and then I travelled to the Well of Mimir, I gave one of my
eyes for the Water of Wisdom. Perhaps you could give me
yours?'
'My eyes?' asked Starsky. 'You want my eyes?'
'One of them,' said the God. 'Is that too high a price?'
'No. Not at all.' And with those words, Starsky
reached for his knife.
'No!' Hutch cried. 'Starsky? What are you doing?'
Hutch reached for Starsky, trying to stop him, but his ghostly hands
went right through Starsky's body. Starsky stabbed his knife into
his own eye, and cut it out. He held it in his hand for a moment,
then offered it to Odin. One of the ravens flew to Starsky's
hand, and picked up the eye in his beak. He flew back to Odin,
and dropped the eye in Odin's hand. Odin popped it in his mouth,
and swallowed it.
'Thank you,' he said. 'Very tasty. Payment accepted.
Let's be off. It's getting late, and I want to be home before dark.'
Odin led them out of Valhalla, out to the glorious, flowery meadows
beyond. He whistled, and a horse appeared.
'Sleipnir,' said Hutch, and his voice was filled with awe.
The eight-legged horse ran up to Odin, and nuzzled his ear. 'Will you
carry us to Midgard, my friend?' asked the God. Sleipnir
nodded. Odin climbed on the horse's back, and reached down his
hand to Starsky, to help him up. Hutch climbed up easily,
floating off the ground. He weighed nothing, and Starsky wondered
how he would hang on. But Odin gripped his arm, as if it were solid,
and they started off.
'Wait!' said Starsky. 'Viggo and the other wolves are waiting
back at Yggdrasil.'
'Sleipnir cannot carry them,' said Odin.
But Hutch whistled, and a flock of black ravens joined them.
'Viggo is a shapechanger, just as I was,' he said.
Viggo settled on Hutch's shoulder, and the other ravens flew with them,
down, down to Midgard. Sleipnir seemed to run through the air, rather
than fly.
It had been a bright sunny day, at Valhalla, but as they flew back to
Middle Earth, the sky grew dark. The moon was full. Hutch's
body still lay upon the pyre. Their familias slept around the
campfire, just as when Starsky left them to follow Hutch. Starsky
climbed down off Sleipnir's back. Hutch floated off, and rejoined
his body on the pyre. The sky was beginning to grow light at
last. The night was almost over.
Odin joined Starsky beside the pyre. 'You know,' said the God. 'I
wasn't joking when I said such a deep attachment was a handicap.
You have given up an eye for him. What more will you give up?'
'Whatever it takes,' said Starsky. 'But that's none of your
business, even if you are a God. And I thank you for your help,
but now I must live my own life as I see fit.'
'Of course,' said Odin. 'But you know things won't get
easier. He has forgot who you even were, several times
already. He'll forget you again.'
'He didn't forget me completely.'
'Have it your way,' said Odin.
'Thank you. I will.'
Odin picked up a dry stick from the ground. 'Loki!' he
cried. The stick burst into flame.
'Here!' said Odin, handing Starsky the burning brand. 'Light the
pyre!'
'What!' said Starsky. 'But you said that Hutch would come back to
life.'
'He will. Light the pyre.'
Starsky took the fiery branch, wondering if he should trust this
command. Gods could be as untrustworthy as mortals, if not more
so. But Hutch had seemed to admire Odin, for some
incomprehensible reason. Starsky walked up to the pyre, and lit
it, ready to jump on it and die with Hutch, if he didn't rise from the
dead as promised. The flames rose higher and higher. They were bright,
almost too bright to watch. All around them, their familias was
waking. Marcus got up, and came to Starsky's side, rubbing his
eyes.
'I'm sorry, David,' he said. 'I meant to watch beside you all
night, but I fell asleep.'
'That's not your fault,' said Starsky. Mariko and Sweet Angel
awoke too, and they cried as the flames surrounded Hutch's body.
'Hutch!' Starsky called. The flames had covered his lover's body
now, and Starsky was terrified. Odin must have tricked them after
all. But why go to so much trouble?
'Hutch!' he called again. He started toward the pyre.
Marcus grabbed his arm.
'I know, David. But you have to accept that she's dead.'
'No,' said Starsky. 'You don't understand. Hutch!' He
called Hutch's name for the third time, pulled loose from Marcus' grasp
and ran to the pyre. The heat was almost unbearable. He
started to run right into the flames, but they began to die down.
Hutch was still lying on the pyre, but his body had returned to its
male form. He sat up, and looked around. Starsky fell to
his knees, sobbing.
Hutch climbed down off the pyre, and joined Starsky on the
ground. He lifted Starsky's head, and touched his face. The
fingers came away covered in blood. Mariko and Sweet Angel gasped.
'David?' asked Marcus. 'What happened to your eye?'
'I made a bargain,' said Starsky. 'But I got the best of it.'
The ground seemed to whirl around him, and then come up to meet
him. He was glad that Hutch held him close, though it seemed
unfair that Hutch should be the one comforting him. It was Hutch
who had died, less than two days before.
******************************
Starsky lay in warm, comfortable darkness. He kept his eyes
closed, not wanting to wake up to reality. He liked the dream
he'd just had, that Hutch was alive again, and with him. A soft
gentle hand stroked his face, soothingly. Hutch's hand, a
hand he would know in any darkness.
'You're waking up, my Lord. It's all right.'
His eyes flew open. Hutch lay beside him, on his bedroll, propped
on one elbow. 'See,' he said. 'It wasn't a dream. I'm
back. Back with you all. Look!'
Hutch pointed between their two bodies, and Starsky saw that their baby
slept between them.
'Aaron,' he said.
'Aaron,' Hutch agreed. 'That's a nice name. What does it
mean?'
'Light,' said Starsky.
'Ah. Light, as in hope? You still had hope, and so I'm back
among the living. That's why you are my Lord. Don't fight
it. It hurts me when you fight it.'
'I'm not fighting it,' said Starsky. 'But I don't take it for
granted. I don't expect it.'
Hutch nodded, then he looked back down at Aaron.
'See. He has your hair,' he said.
'And your eyes,' said Starsky. Then he remembered. A pain
shot through his left eye. He touched it, but his fingers
encountered only a bandage.
'I'm sorry about that,' said Hutch. 'I wish I could fix it.'
'I wouldn't let you if you could,' Starsky told him. 'It's never
a good idea to break a bargain with a God. I made my choice
between life with one eye, and life without you. It was no choice
at all. I'll be ugly, and no one will want to fuck me, except
you, of course. But I don't want anyone but you, so I've lost nothing.'
'You won't be ugly. You'll wear an eye patch, and everyone will
be intrigued, and I'll have to fight them off with sticks.'
Starsky tried to sit up, and the tent walls wavered around him.
Hutch pulled him back down. 'Just stay where you are, and rest,'
he said.
'I can't. I have to piss. And I'm not pissing in that jar,
so you can just stick it up your.... Hutch! Stop that.'
He pushed Hutch's hands away, and struggled to his feet. He
managed to make it to the tent door without help, but then the earth
started to spin far too fast. Hutch sighed, and came to offer his
arm for support.
'And you call me a bad patient,' he said.
'I'm fine. I only lost an eye. You were dead, by all the
Gods. What are you doing out of bed?'
'I've died before. I'm used to it.'
'What about Aaron?'
'He's asleep. He's in our tent. He'll be fine.'
Hutch helped him to the bushes, and then helped him with his clothes.
'I feel like a baby, who needs his mommy to hold his cock when he
pisses,' said Starsky.
'Well, I am a mother now, so this is good practice for me.'
'I'm fine, it's just that everything is flat, like a painting, and when
I try to judge distances, my head hurts.'
'Close your eyes,' said Hutch.
'I have only one eye, remember? That's the problem.'
'Well, close it. Now, lean on me. Make me the centre
of the world. Let me judge distances. Don't try to move your
head, or turn too quickly. If you can't see something properly,
don't try to focus, ask me to help. Open your eye, slowly.
Just look right ahead. Turn with me. Now, is that better?'
'Yes,' Starsky muttered, darkly.
'Good. This is just for now, Starsky. Until your vision
adjusts. It will adjust. Trust me.'
'I trust you,' he muttered again. 'I don't trust my eye.'
News of their awakening had spread throughout the camp, and they were
surrounded by their familias, offering love and support. It was
wonderful, but Starsky's head soon hurt again.
'By all the Gods!' a voice boomed. 'Let them have some peace.'
The crowd scattered at the prince's command.
'Thanks, Marcus,' said Hutch. 'I don't think he's up to that much
love and devotion yet.'
'He's not up to it? What about you?'
'Oh, Hutch is fine,' said Starsky. 'He died before. He's
used to it.'
'Ken?' said a new voice. Starsky didn't turn to look. He knew it
was Cecil Hutchinson.
'I was asleep when you... returned to us. But the others told me
all about it. They say that Odin himself brought you back.'
'Yes,' said Hutch calmly. 'We rode on Sleipnir, and Odin gave
Starsky a branch of Loki's fire. It was that fire that brought me
back to life.'
Cecil Hutchinson simply stared, speechless for once. What could
he say, Starsky wondered? Confronted with the evidence that the
Gods didn't think Hutch was worthless? How many men had entered
Valhalla, and returned to Midgard to tell about it?
******************************
'Well? What do you think?' asked Ursus, as he ushered them into
his new restaurant.
'It's very wild, and... and eclectic,' said Hutch.
Starsky looked around at the wild, eclectic restaurant. He
couldn't help but agree with Hutch's assessment, and yet the place had
style.
'That's the effect I wanted to have, man,' said Ursus. 'I want
people to expect the unexpected. They can come here for new and
wonderful gustatory experiences. They might find themselves
rubbing shoulders with royalty, like the prince here. Or with
someone who has risen from the dead.'
He looked pointedly at Hutch.
'Oh, no you don't,' said the man who had risen from the dead.
'Don't you dare spread that around.'
'I won't,' said Ursus. 'But news like that spreads on its
own. And you shouldn't be ashamed of it. You should be used
to it. You were lost, and then you were found. You were a
man, and then a woman. Now, you're a man again. And you
were dead, but now you're alive.'
'Well, I don't want people coming up to me and gaping in astonishment
at the zoo animal. That's all.'
'Don't worry,' said Starsky. 'I won't let them do that.'
Ursus shuddered dramatically. 'And with that eye patch, you won't
find too many people willing to fight you over it,' he said. 'The
word is, you went to the Underworld, and fought Hades for your
husband's life. You won, but you lost an eye doing it.'
Starsky smiled. 'That's not quite the way it happened, but let's
just leave that as the public story.'
'Stories like that are good for business,' said Ursus. 'Now, I
know it looks like I took the money you invested, and bought a lot of
unmatched old furniture, and pocketed the rest. But that's not
true.'
'No?' said Marcus, laughing.
'No. I've been spending money on things like food from many
countries. Recipes from many countries. And I've been inventing a
few dishes of my own. Try these!'
He reached over the bar, and brought out a bowl. He plunked the
bowl down in front of them.
'What are they?' asked Starsky. 'My eye is still acting up.'
'They're potatoes. A vegetable from the New World. I cut
them in thin strips, and fried them in butter. Then I sprinkled
them with salt. Try them.'
Hutch picked one up, and popped it in his mouth. 'Hmm,' he
said. He tried another, then another. Starsky reached for
one. It tasted strange. Salty. Crunchy. He
tried another.
'Hey! Leave some for me,' said Marcus. Soon, they had eaten
the entire bowl.
'Well,' said Ursus. 'I'll make more, and serve them with beer.'
'Sounds good,' said Starsky. 'But they could be cut even thinner,
and you could try more salt. And something else. Something
to dip them in. A sauce, maybe?'
Ursus didn't seem at all offended by Starsky's suggestions. He
nodded thoughtfully. 'Something to dip them in,' he said.
'I'll try to think of a good sauce for that. And I found another
strange foreign dish. A drink this time. I'll be right
back.'
He disappeared into the kitchen, and returned with a pot of something
dark, and aromatic. 'This is from the New World, too. It's
made from ground beans.'
'Beans!' said Starsky. 'A drink made of beans?'
'Try it,' said Ursus, again. He poured them all small glasses of
the dark brown liquid. Starsky took a sip.
'Whew!' he said. 'Strong stuff. It needs something to
sweeten it. Honey, maybe.'
Marcus didn't agree. It tasted fine on its own, he thought.
Hutch said it needed cream.
'Cream!' said the others. 'Why cream?'
'I don't know. I just want to try it with cream.'
Ursus went back to the kitchen, and returned with honey and
cream. Soon, they were all drinking the new brew, the way they
preferred it.
'I'll offer people cream, and honey with this drink,' said Ursus.
'Then, they can have it just the way they want.'
'You want more honey?' Hutch asked Starsky.
'Always,' said his lover, with a smile.
*******************
How could such a tiny baby, only a few days old, produce so much shit,
Starsky wondered? And not sweet-smelling shit, either.
You'd think, considering the fact his son drank only milk, that
his son's shit would be bearable. It wasn't. Starsky held
his nose with one hand, as he lifted the smelly diaper off with the
other.
'You'd better use both hands, Starsky,' his husband commented.
'You're way over there, beloved. You don't have to smell this.'
'Well, neither do you. The nurse is perfectly capable....'
'I don't care what she's perfectly capable of. I meant what I
said. The nurse is fine, and she's necessary too, since neither of us
can feed Aaron. But she's not taking care of him all the
time. Our baby is going to know his parents. And if you can
go through nine months of pregnancy, and all that happened after that,
then I can change his diapers. And bathe him. End of story.'
'Fine,' said Hutch. 'Then you can use two hands.'
Starsky groaned, but he let go of his nose and finished changing Aaron.
It wasn't too bad, he told himself. After the first whiff, he got
used to it. In a way. He'd smelled worse things, though he
couldn't remember when, at the moment.
Aaron kicked his tiny feet, and squirmed around happily, once he was
free of the diaper. The baby was beautiful, thought Starsky, forgetting
his disgust over the shit. Unfortunately, Aaron chose that moment to
piss all over Starsky's robe. Hutch laughed. Starsky glared
at his husband.
'The nurse is just down the hall,' said Hutch.
'Shut up,' said Starsky.
He washed Aaron, and put on a clean diaper. It wasn't as neat as
the nurse's diaper, but he'd get better at it with practice, he was
sure. He dropped the dirty diaper in a pail, to be washed by the
laundry staff. There was only so far he'd go, he thought, and
washing dirty baby clothes was too far.
'There!' said Starsky, proudly. He carried the baby over to their
bed, and laid him down beside Hutch. He dropped his robe, and got
into bed beside his husband and their son. The baby kicked and
made cooing noises for a while. Hutch started singing something
in Norwegian, probably a lullaby. Something about the sea,
Starsky thought. The sea and the moon. He felt his own eyes
closing. This was sweet.
The baby was asleep. He felt Hutch's hands in his hair, and
opened his eyes.
'Are you tired?' Hutch asked.
'Not that tired,' said Starsky.
He got up, and carried the sleeping baby over to the other side of the
bed, then tucked pillows all around him. Aaron never woke.
He usually slept for several hours, once they got him to sleep.
Starsky tiptoed around the bed, and got back in beside Hutch. He
reached for his husband and pulled him close.
'Starsky?' said Hutch. 'I'm still not sure about this.'
'He's a baby, Hutch,' Starsky told him. 'He can't see further
than the end of his nose, right now, even when he's awake. He
doesn't know what we're doing, and after all, he wouldn't even be here
if we hadn't done it nine months ago, so what's wrong?'
Hutch blushed. 'I don't know,' he said. 'It just seems....'
'He should know his parents love each other. Didn't you sleep
with your mother and father?'
'No,' said Hutch. 'With my nurse. For a while. Then,
my father said I should sleep alone, after I got sick and started
having fits. Seizures, I mean.'
'Alone?' asked Starsky, horrified. 'They made a child sleep
alone? A sick child? What about when you had
nightmares? That must have been so cold and scary for you.
I'm sorry, beloved. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories.'
Hutch smiled, tenderly. 'It's not your fault. I'm fine.'
'I know you're fine. You're always fine. You die, and
you're fine. You have a baby, and you're fine. Your father....
Never mind. See, Aaron needs to be close to us, and know we love
each other, and that we won't let anything hurt him. That's all
he cares about. Now, you need to let me take care of you.
You've been taking care of me for days now, so it's my turn. And
Aaron will sleep right through it all. Just relax.'
Starsky began to kiss his way down his lover's chest. He'd missed
the strong muscles, and the big cock that rose up when he stroked
it. He swallowed that cock, and sucked on it for a while,
enjoying the taste and the texture, while Hutch gasped and moaned and
shivered all over.
'Mmm,' Starsky agreed. He pulled his mouth away, and Hutch
groaned in protest.
'It's all right,' said Starsky. 'I'm just going to do this
instead.'
He rose up over his lover's beautiful blond body, and sank down on his
cock, slowly, while Hutch squirmed under him, trying hard not to make
too much noise.
'That's it,' said Starsky. 'You stay nice and still, and nice and
quiet. Don't make a sound. Just let me do all the
work. I love this. I love you. How does that feel?'
'Hot,' said Hutch. 'And tight.'
'Things are going to get hotter, and tighter. But you have to
stay quiet and still.'
'Starsky,' moaned Hutch.
'I know. I'm a fierce one-eyed pirate, and I have no mercy on my
victims. I've captured you, and I'm ravishing you, for my own
pleasure. Was that a giggle? Oh, I'm going to punish you
for that.'
Starsky spent some time punishing Hutch, to their mutual satisfaction.
Aaron slept through it all. He didn't even notice when Starsky
picked him up, and cuddled him close again. They all fell asleep,
content in their love.
*******************************
'Looking for someone?'
Starsky turned at the question. The woman was tall, blonde,
statuesque and wore a very low cut black gown. Starsky opened his
mouth to comment, but the lady put her fingers over his mouth, and
shook her head.
'Looking for someone?' she asked again.
Ah, thought Starsky. 'Well, I was looking for my husband,' he
answered.
The lady pouted, and sighed. 'You're married? How very
sad. But this is Calends. Everything must be forgiven,
remember? You could come away with me for a little fun, and then go
back to your party, and your husband would have no right to be angry.'
'I don't know,' said Starsky. 'I wouldn't want to be unfaithful
to him.'
'But you must get bored sometimes?' asked the lady.
Starsky laughed. 'Bored? With Hutch? You have to be
joking. He is the most interesting person I've ever known.
I don't know what he's going to do next.'
Starsky looked down the lady's cleavage, pointedly. 'Or how he's
going to look next.'
'Well, if he's such an interesting person, perhaps he wouldn't mind you
having a woman on the side, just this once. After all, he doesn't
seem to be here, at his own party. So who knows what he's up to.'
'Yes...' said Starsky slowly. 'Who knows? Okay. I'll
come with you. But I need to know your name first.'
'My name?' asked the lady.
'Yes,' said Starsky. 'Didn't you pick a name?'
'Oh! My name.' She thought a moment. 'You can call me
Yvette,' she said at last.
'Yvette? That's nice.'
Yvette grabbed his arm, and dragged him out of the Hall, in a very
proprietary manner for a lady whom he had just met.
'I think this is far enough away that they can't hear me scream,' said
Yvette, as she pulled him into a shed, which just happened to be very
far away from the Hall.
'You don't waste much time, do you sweetheart?' Starsky drawled.
'I've heard you're a pirate, who ravishes his victims, and shows no
mercy,' said Yvette. 'I don't believe everything I hear.'
'Oh, you can believe that,' said Starsky.
'Prove it to me,' Yvette demanded.
Starsky tossed her down on a convenient pile of leaves, and flung
himself on top of her.
Yvette gasped. 'Oh! You're so forceful,' she said.
Starsky managed to keep a straight face, through long practice in the
army. Soldiers who laughed at inappropriate times didn't advance
very far. He meant to advance far tonight.
'You're sure my husband won't mind if he learns of this?' he asked.
'Shut up about your husband, and ravish me,' said Yvette.
***********************
'We do, of course, take every proposal you bring before us with the
very greatest seriousness, Your Highness. But I must confess,
this particular proposal has us all worried.'
'I understand, Senator Templar,' said Prince Marcus. 'I am aware
of the concern of all the people of Rome, that they not be subjected to
policing which takes away their freedom to live their lives as they see
fit. I promise you, the Guardians are not such a police force.'
'Then what are they? If we may be allowed to ask?'
'Of course, Senator. You may ask all the questions you
wish. Of me. Of the people I have proposed as
Guardians. We have no secrets, and we intend to have no
secrets. The Guardians are modelled on the Guardians who
protected Rome in the past. They were based on Plato's Guardians
of the Republic, if you remember?'
'Ah, yes. So, they're not spies, or secret police who will drag
citizens out of bed in the middle of the night?'
'No! Definitely not. And it will be one of their duties to
see that such things never happen.'
'But why do we need them?' asked Senator Caine. 'Haven't we
managed without them for a very long time?'
'Yes. But times do change. Rome has changed. Even the
nature of crime has changed. Who would have thought, even a few
years ago, that a religious cult would plot against us? And there
have been murders which have gone unsolved. You remember, last
year? Those men who were murdered and their bodies thrown into
the Tiber? We never found out who killed them, though we had
suspicions.'
'I thought it must be the Cult,' Senator Templar commented.
'There haven't been more such murders since they were disbanded.'
'That's a distinct possibility, Senator. But it has never been
proven. It's not good for Rome, that such public and horrific
crimes should go unsolved and unpunished.'
'So, it is that sort of crime you want the Guardians to investigate?'
'Yes,' said the prince. 'We have no interest in interfering with
the right of private citizens to find their own justice. But what
about people like the victims thrown in the Tiber? They have
never been avenged. The City Guard doesn't have the resources to
investigate such crimes. I don't have those resources myself,
personally. I have far too much on my own table. The
Praetorians do the best they can, but they have many other duties, as
well. We need the Guardians, to bring justice to those who cannot
find it themselves.'
'A very passionate speech, Your Highness. But who are these men,
who will bring us this justice?'
'Let me introduce some of them to you,' said the prince. 'I
suggest that they be from all walks of life, and from all classes of
society. Thus, no one can say the Guardians will be on the side
of any class, or any sort of people. I suggest that both men and
women should be Guardians. As Plato said before me, both men and
women are capable of intelligence, and courage. I want you to
consider these two men, for a start. Darius and Gerard were
slaves, but their master died, and set them free in his will.
They have served in the City Guard for several years.'
Marcus waved the two Guardsmen forward. Darius was calm, and
answered all the questions put to him by the Senate with aplomb.
Gerard held back. He was less composed in such public situations.
'So, you have no interest in spying on the people of Rome?' asked
Senator Caine.
'Certainly not, Senator,' Darius answered. 'We never spied on
anyone when we were in the Guard. We think of the Guardians as
the City Guard, but with more resources to help people. And we
won't be replacing the Guard. We'll be working with them, but we'll
have the time to concentrate on investigating crimes. Seeing that
people get justice, if they can't get it for themselves. The
Guard has to spend a lot of time patrolling the walls, and that's an
important function. But it means they don't have much time for
detective work.'
'Detective work?' asked Senator Templar.
'Yes, Senator. Trying to discover who committed murders, when the
answer isn't obvious.'
'The men in the Tiber,' said the Senator. 'That still troubles
you, Prince Marcus?'
'It does,' said the prince. 'And I want to solve that
crime. But I don't have a private vendetta, if that's what you
think. If I did, I'd go after the murderer on my own, and take my own
revenge. But I think it was a crime against Rome, the People of
Rome, as well as against me.'
'Granted,' said Senator Templar. 'Are there more men you propose
as Guardians?'
'Yes,' said the prince. 'They have been in these chambers before,
and helped to bring down the Cult. David Starsky, and Kenneth
Hutchinson.'
The Senate Chamber fell silent. Starsky and Hutch rose from their
seats at the back of the visitor's gallery, and stepped down on the
Senate floor.
'Well!' said Senator Templar. 'I would think you didn't need an
introduction, or a resume. But please. Entertain us.'
***********************
Hutch was right, thought Starsky. He had never wanted to see
Arac's stronghold again. He had tried to forget it belonged to
him now. But it was better to face that which you hated and
feared. Better to invade it, and drive out the evil spirits, and
make it your own. Better to acknowledge it was your own.
So they were standing in the entranceway of the stronghold of an evil
veneficus, about to make it their own. The Cult had been
destroyed, or driven underground. Any evil spirits hanging around
this area of the Apennines had been exorcised. Hutch walked in the door
of the prison where he had been tortured and abused, as casually as he
would enter a friend's home.
Now was the time for Starsky to exorcise his own demons. He
stepped over the threshold. Hutch turned to him, and smiled. 'I
love you,' he said. 'This will be a wonderful retreat for the
Guardians, once we redecorate.'
'Yes,' said Starsky. 'Let's start by getting rid of the old bones
lining the walls. And I wouldn't eat anything stored in the
pantry. Did you see the murals in the bedrooms?'
'No,' said Hutch. 'They didn't give me a tour when I visited here
the first time.'
'I had a look, when I came up here to... take care of some of our
prisoners.'
'Oh, yes?'
'Let's just say I wouldn't want to sleep with the artist. I might
not wake up again.'
'We'll have the walls stripped, and paint some new murals. Mariko
might like to try her hand at that.'
'And you?' asked Starsky.
'Maybe,' said Hutch. 'If I feel inspired.'
Starsky followed Hutch down the stairs, to the dungeon room where he
had been chained to the wall for days. It was cold, and
damp. The room smelled musty, but all traces of blood had been
scoured away. Hutch closed the door.
'When I woke up here,' he said. 'My memory was gone.
Mostly. I didn't know my own name. But I remembered you.'
Hutch touched Starsky, over his heart. 'I didn't remember your
name, either, but I remembered your soul. Your heart. Your love.
Your trust and faith in me. I remembered your passion. How you
claimed me. How you fought for me. I knew you would follow
me, and kill my enemies.'
'I didn't come in time to stop him from hurting you,' said Starsky.
'Yes, you did,' said Hutch. 'You were here, in this room with
me. You gave me the courage to fight, to escape. And then,
when I thought he would capture me again, there you were. He ran
at the sight of you.'
Hutch reached up and touched Starsky's face. Smoothed his
eyebrows, touched the black eye patch that hid the healing scar. 'Make
love to me,' he said.
The stone floor was cold, but they spread out their coats. That
kept away most of the chill. The warmth of their bodies did the
rest.
'Where did he hurt you?' asked Starsky.
'Here,' said Hutch. 'And here.'
Starsky kissed those places. He caressed them with his
tongue. He whispered words of love, and tenderness. He
coaxed Hutch to enter him, to be rough, and fierce.
'Like a hawk,' said Starsky. 'You are a fierce, wild hawk.
A true hawk, ready to defend its mate, and its young. Not like Arac. I
dreamt that. In a dream. In a dream. And I held your
heart in my hands. I felt it beating, in a dream.'
'You have my heart,' said Hutch. 'It belongs to you. And so
does this.'
Starsky felt Hutch enter him. He couldn't watch, for once.
Usually he watched, while his lover put his long, thick cock inside
him. But this time, he wanted only to feel. To feel and to
listen. If he closed his eye, he could listen to Hutch's
heartbeat, and his breathing, and the coursing of his blood through his
veins. He could hear the soft slide of Hutch's cock, in and out
of his own body. He could hear Hutch's gasps, and the strangled
sounds he made when he came.
He could hear Hutch whisper. Over and over. 'Thank
you. Thank you. Thank you.'
He pulled his lover's head down on his shoulder. 'You're welcome,' he
said. 'Very welcome.'
*************************
'I have a confession to make,' said Starsky. They were walking
around the stronghold, planning where to put the library, the meeting
rooms, and so on.
'A confession?' asked Hutch with a grin. 'I already know about
Yvette.'
'Who?' asked Starsky, with spurious innocence. 'Never heard of
her.'
'If you say so,' said Hutch.
'No, that's not what I want to confess. I did something behind
your back... Stop that. I'm serious, Hutch.'
Hutch stopped laughing, and took Starsky's hands. 'I'm
listening,' he said.
Starsky thought that the bedroom, with its horrible murals, was an
appropriate place to make his confession. 'I made a new will,' he
said.
Hutch looked at him, blankly. 'Is that something that needs to be
confessed?' he asked. 'Especially to me? I know nothing about the
subject, except that wills decree where your property should go after
you die.'
'That's the point,' said Starsky. 'You see, you belong to me,
legally. I made a will that sets you free from my family, after my
death, so you won't belong to my heir.'
Starsky waited bravely for Hutch's reaction. He'd imagined
everything from tears to rage, and a combination of both. He was
not prepared for laughter.
'Starsky, that has to be the most useless thing you've ever done.
Why waste the paper? We won't ever be separated by death.
Don't you remember what the Norns said? And Odin. We belong
together. We'll live together. And die together. And we'll
be reborn together. Forever.'
'Okay,' said Starsky. He hung his head. 'I'm sorry.
But the idea of you belonging to someone else offended me, even if it
can never happen.'
'It's all right. Have your will, if it makes you feel
better. It's words on paper. We are blood and bone and soul
and heart, and we made Aaron. I can live with the will. So,
you're forgiven. Don't ask me to sign it, though.'
'I won't,' said Starsky. He felt a huge weight lifted off his
shoulders. He turned to look at the bloody murals that decorated
the walls.
'What should we paint in here?' he asked. 'Something more
pleasant? The Rape of the Sabine Women? The Sack of Troy?'
'You. Plucking your eye out and offering it to Odin.'
'Hutch! Don't you dare. I lost it in battle with Hades,
remember?'
'That's not what I remember,' said Hutch. 'And I remember you
offering to give up both eyes for me.'
Starsky turned away, to study the perverted murals. 'It's
strange,' he said. 'The painter probably had both his eyes.
But what did he choose to see with them? Ugliness and
cruelty. If you want to paint that scene, go ahead.'
He felt Hutch's arms come around him from behind. He heard Hutch's
sweet voice in his ear.
'The men who raped the Sabine Women. The men who sacked
Troy. They weren't heroes, you are,' said Hutch. 'Now, let's go
home and choose our new Guardians.'
*** The End ***
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