Phantasma

Phantasma

'So you see, Mother, Father, I'm going with him to Rome.'

'But, Darling....'

'Look, don't pretend you're not relieved. I'm just an embarrassment to you.'

'That's not true.'

'I'm not political enough. Not proud enough of the family name. Not interested enough in money. Not masculine enough.'

'Kenneth. We don't believe any of those things.'

'Why not? It's all true. And my choice of a vocation shames you -- as if I had a choice. It doesn't matter so much in Rome. They're used to everything, even men having visions. I'll actually be of some use, according to Starsky. He says that now he's married, he can leave the Military Police and get a job with the City Guard. That's what he wants, a chance to play detective. Though the Gods only know why.'

'Well, I hope you'll be happy.'

His father sounded as if this were the last thing he expected could actually happen, right after iron floating and the earth reversing its orbit around the sun.

******************************************

Starsky was waiting just outside the door, when Hutch left his parents' room. He always seemed to know where Hutch was, when he needed company, and when he needed to be alone. It was eerie. It was unsettling. It was wonderful. Hutch wasn't sure he liked it exactly, but he knew that he couldn't live without it.

They walked, shoulder to shoulder, out of the house and down to the waterside. It was the New Year, but still winter, and still dark most of the time. A few days ago, the sun had made a brief appearance, and Starsky had insisted they celebrate by having wild sex.

'What are you smiling about?'

'Nothing special. Just smiling,' Hutch answered. He pushed Starsky down on a convenient rock, and knelt at his feet. Starsky looked down at him, his face rapt and questioning. 'I want to see my... to see Vanessa before we leave. Will you come with me?'

Starsky smiled and closed his eyes for a moment. 'You're incredible, you know that? You're so proud, so brave, so independent. You look as though nothing could touch you, and then you ask -- I'd go with you anywhere, Hutch.'

'I'm none of those things, Starsk. I'm just mush inside.'

'Me too. We'll guard each other's mush, right?'

'Gotcha.'

*************************

It was strange, to be visiting his former in-laws, with his new mate at his side. They were polite, but distant. Starsky had never met Vanessa, only seen her from a distance. The trial had been messy, her conviction and sentence to house arrest and community service a relief. Well, they would soon be out of it.

He felt Starsky's hand on his arm, a reminder of their connection. Often now, he could almost read his lover's mind. Almost, but not quite. Not yet. He thought Starsky could read his. Sometimes, he could feel Starsky's mind moving inside his own when they made love, and afterwards, lying together, wrapped around each other, close, breathing sweetly.

Starsky laughed suddenly, and tightened the hand that rested on his arm. 'Hush! Don't think such things, or we'll have to leave.'

Yes. Starsky could read his mind, now. Poor Starsky. It must be a revelation.

Vanessa entered the room. She looked beautiful, as always, and quite unchanged. She smiled at them and sat down in a chair, rather as a queen might assume her throne.

'So,' she said to Hutch. 'Did you eat them?'

'Eat them?'

'The tongue and the heart. One thing about being married to this man, you'll never go hungry.'

'How are you doing?'

'I'm doing fine, but you didn't answer my question.'

'You noticed, and I'm not going to. We just dropped by to see how you were, and to say farewell. We're leaving for Rome in a few days.'

'Well. Bon Voyage. I guess you have what you want now.'

'I guess he does,' Starsky remarked lightly. 'I'm good at that.'

Hutch could feel waves of some indefinable emotion from his partner. Not rage exactly. Not the violence which had led to the duel, the violence he had not been able to quench, even after the fight, after the return to their rooms and the.... No. This was cold, controlled and focused. It meant they probably wouldn't be disturbing the entire neighbourhood with their passion tonight. Too bad.

Vanessa had gone pale, icy. She smiled, though, and got to her feet, dismissing them with a polite word and an offer of her hand. Hutch took it.

He didn't let go when she tried to pull away.

'Vanessa. You should be happy that we're not still married. You are your own woman now. You had the right to sentencing by the court. If we'd still been married, you would have been handed over to me for punishment, after the trial. I might not have been so lenient.'

***************************

'Do you think it was wise to taunt her?' Starsky asked.

'Probably not, but I couldn't resist the temptation. She was jealous, you know,' said Hutch.

'Of what?'

'Of you.'

'Why should she be jealous?'

Hutch looked a little hurt. Starsky reached for him, running his hands down his chest, down to his thighs, between his thighs.

'She had you. She had this. She threw it away. I grabbed it. You're mine. What right does she have to be jealous? Maybe that's why. Someone else has what she threw away. Now she sees the value.'

Hutch pulled him down on the bed. It was good to be married, thought Hutch, even if there were negative aspects to marriage, none of which he could remember at the moment. Starsky, in fact, was whispering in his ear to stop thinking altogether, and Hutch was nothing loathe. It was good, all this was good.

Soon they'd be in Rome. He'd see Rome. There were great libraries there. Great Mages. Great art. Starsky swore that his family would love Hutch, or he'd know the reason why. They'd have their own home, an apartment in one of the nicer regions of the city. They could afford it with two salaries, though what Hutch would be doing to earn his salary was a good question. What exactly could a Seidhrman do in Rome?

'Stop thinking, Hutch. Pay attention here. Watch what I'm doing. See. Like that?'

Hutch looked up in time to see Starsky sliding down onto his cock. He tried to reach out to touch his lover, but his hands were being held above his head. All he could do was thrust up helplessly into the hot channel that surrounded him. Starsky was twisting, twisting, twisting around him. Whispering.

'Stop thinking, Hutch. Just love me.'

'Love,' he gasped back. 'Love me?'

'Always.'

********************************

The night before they sailed for Rome was spent camping out in the wilderness, just outside of Oslo. Hutch had wanted to spend one more night in Barbarian isolation before leaving for decent Roman civilization, and Starsky had agreed. After all, the man was abandoning his family for Starsky's world.

At least they were reasonably safe here. The lights of the city shone on the horizon. Viggo sat with them by their campfire, ever vigilant. The stars pulsed over head. Starsky put his head in Hutch's fur covered lap, and smiled.

'It's not so bad here. I'm glad I came.'

Hutch laughed. 'You'll be even happier you came, later.'

'Ah. So you can make dirty jokes.'

'What dirty jokes?' Hutch looked perfectly innocent, a look which didn't fool Starsky for a moment.

Viggo whined, and got to his feet to study the woods behind them. Starsky felt at his belt for his knife, and his service revolver. Maybe this idea hadn't been so good, after all. Perhaps some friends of Hutch's cousin and ex-wife were looking for revenge.

He felt Hutch's steadying hand on his arm. 'It's okay. Look at Viggo. Whoever it is, Viggo sees them as a friend.'

Yes. Viggo didn't look either threatened or threatening. A shadow moved at the edge of the woods. Darkness on darkness. Starsky's had grown accustomed to distinguishing one shade of night from another, though his eyes would never be as sharp as Viggo's, or Hutch's. Viggo trotted off to the trees, and greeted whatever waited there. Starsky sat up slowly and carefully, and moved a little way from Hutch, to give them both room, just in case. Enemies could come in the guise of friends.

Hutch got to his feet, and turned to Starsky with a smile. 'Ragnhildr,' he said, then laughed at Starsky's confused expression. 'An old friend.' So. Some old friend of Hutch's had tracked them down. How friendly? And how old?

The shadow at the forest's edge came closer. It leaned on Viggo's shoulder, and as it came into the light of the campfire, Starsky saw that it leaned on a staff as well. The shadow-friend was old. Very old. It wore many skins, and some sort of headdress. Starsky couldn't tell if it was male or female. But clearly it was not a troublesome sort of old friend. Not someone Starsky needed to be jealous of, or duel with for Hutch's affections.

'Ragnhildr?'

'Yes. So you haven't forgotten me?'

'Of course not. I've been busy. Studying. Travelling.'

'Getting married.'

'That too.'

The old person tottered up to Starsky, and studied him carefully. Starsky stood still and patiently endured the scrutiny, out of respect for this Ragnhildr's extreme age.

'Hmph,' Ragnhildr observed. Starsky wasn't sure if that was approval, but at least he hadn't been hit with the staff.

'Ragnhildr was my teacher. She taught me how to be a Seidhrman. It was very brave of her, because she garnered a lot of disapproval for teaching a man.'

'Such nonsense,' muttered the old Mage. 'All these prejudices belong in the past. But now you are going to leave us for good.'

'Not really. We're going to Rome because Starsky has to rejoin his unit, and get mustered out. Then we'll probably live in Rome for a while. Starsky likes cities.'

'And what about you?'

'I like Starsky. I'll be happy for a time. I can be a Seidhrman anywhere. I'll fit in better there, than Starsky would here.'

Starsky cleared his throat, then dared to speak, despite the fact that the shadowy old woman made him very nervous.

'I'm not forcing Hutch to go with me, and I'm not going to make him my slave or anything. We're equals, and he can make any demands he wants on me, any time. It just seemed best, for now, to live in Rome.'

The dark eyes in the dark face turned back on Starsky. Starsky stared into their depths, and felt dizzy as the world tilted and he was surrounded by stars. He came back to himself, and felt Hutch's arms around him. Viggo was licking at his face.

'What? What happened?'

'It's okay, Starsky. Ragnhildr just looked at you.' 'Ugh. Lots of people have looked at me, and I didn't feel like this after.'

'You will live, Roman. A long life. Go to Rome, my son. It's where you must be. The city of fountains. Water spiralling up into the air. The beasts, and the swords. Beware of larvae.' Ragnhildr was gone. Just like that. Gone.

'Huuutch!'

'Shh, shh. I know. It's okay. You'll be fine. Put your head between your knees.'

'I'm not a baby, Hutch. I'm a Roman soldier. I'm in the Military Police. I can handle myself. Anytime. Anywhere.'

'I know. Put your head down, between your knees. Breathe. There. Better?'

'Sorry, Hutch. I don't know what came over me.' 'Ragnhildr.'

'Yeah.'

'She's very ancient. Very powerful. Makes me look like the rank beginner I am.'

'No. You're very powerful, too. She had you as her student, right? She risked her reputation for you. It must have been worth it.'

'I love you, Starsky.'

'Good. Now what was all that about beasts and fountains and larvae? Larvae? What kind of larvae? Ghosts? Masks? Insects? What?'

'All excellent questions, Starsky. But I'm as bewildered as you. It was her vision, not mine. We'll just have to go to Rome, and find out.'

********************************

Starsky regarded the harbour with approval. It was noisy, smelly and dangerous. It was one step closer to home.

Ships bobbed at their moorings, sails furled, tackle clinking musically in the wind. Their own ship was the Dragon, and she had set some sails in preparation for leaving harbour. The sails were gold, which signified that her Master possessed at least twenty years experience, and that the ship herself had never been in a serious accident.

A lupa of indeterminate gender bumped into Hutch suggestively, then backed off at Hutch's icy stare, and Starsky's equally suggestive reach for his dagger.

'Oops,' grinned the whore. "My mistake.'

We haven't even arrived in Rome, thought Starsky, and I'm already itching for my next duel.

'Cool down, Starsky. I'm not interested in prostitutes. Not that way.'

'What way are you interested?'

'I wish I could get some of them away from that life. It's dangerous, and short.'

'Good luck, Babe. Dangerous or not, a lot of them seem to like it.'

'But why? Do you know?'

Starsky was shaking his head in perplexity. Then someone bumped into him. Someone small, covered in furs, and clearly not a lupa.

'Oh, dear. Sorry, sirs. Weren't watching where I was going, like. Hope you wasn't hurt.'

'Not at all. But this harbour isn't a safe place to be wandering around not paying attention.'

'You're right, sirs. Need luck, here. Want to buy some luck?'

Starsky laughed at the obvious ploy, but where was the harm?

'Why not? What luck do you have for sale today?'

'Well, sirs, here I have a scarab beetle from Egypt. Brings long life. Then I have a rabbit's foot. That's real luck, there. And then there's this.'

With a flourish, the vendor drew out a small box from inside her heavy coat.. She opened it briefly to reveal some small, wriggly, worm-like creatures crawling about on leaves.

'Larvae,' she announced, then shut the box with a snap, and returned it to its place inside her coat.

'Have to keep them warm.'

'I see,' said Hutch. 'But larvae? Why are they lucky?'

'These here larvae come from Cathay. Spin a fine thread that's strong as iron. Hard to break, it is. Brings luck'

'Good,' said Hutch. 'I'll take them.'

Starsky nudged Hutch warningly. 'Remember what Ragnhildr said?'

'I do remember. That's why I'm buying them.'

***********************************

The fog horns were blowing, as their ship set out to sea. They stood on deck, watching Norway slip by them in the dark. Ahead lay the open sea, storms, the mysterious predictions of the Shaman who had taught Hutch.

Starsky nudged Hutch. 'Let's go to our cabin.'

'Now? Don't you ever quit?'

Starsky snorted. 'Not that. I've got an idea.'

Their cabin was small, with two bunk beds. Starsky looked at them with horror for a moment, then pictured them on some stormy night, wrapped up in their blankets in that small space, being tossed back and forth, and back and forth. 'Okay,' he said. 'I can live with that.'

'With what?'

'Never mind. You'll see later.'

He rooted through his bags, searching for something an old lover had given him, long ago. Then his hands touched the smooth wooden box.. He opened it and drew out an oblong shape, wrapped in silk.

'A tarot deck?'

'Yes. How did you know?'

'I'm psychic. And that's usually how one stores tarot decks.'

Starsky grinned. 'Let's foretell the future.'

*************

They sat across from each other at the small table. Starsky offered the tarot deck to Hutch but he waved it off.

'You do the reading.'

'Okay,' he answered, a bit nervously. He wasn't an experienced Tarot reader, but he knew the basics. He started to unwrap the piece of blue silk from the deck, then stopped and glanced over to the box that Hutch had wrapped in a piece of fur to keep warm.

'What's wrong?'

'Maybe nothing. But isn't silk from Cathay?'

'Yes. You think.... worms? Silk comes from worms?'

'I don't know. How closely did you look at those things, Hutch? They could be poisonous for all you know. Or they could spin silk. A fine, strong thread, she said. Sounds like silk.'

Hutch looked at him for a moment, then reached for the box of worms. He opened the perforated lid and looked inside..

'Well?'

'I think they're caterpillars, not worms.'

'So?'

'So they'd spin a cocoon, right?'

'If you say so.'

'Take my word for it, they spin a cocoon of fine thread, like all caterpillars. Then sometime later, the cocoon will open, and out will fly a butterfly. Or a moth.'

'Really?'

Starsky was staring at Hutch with genuine astonishment and wonderment.

'Yes, really.'

'So, was this why you bought the... caterpillars?' Hutch mumbled something.

'Huh? What was that, Hutch?'

'I said it was the daimon.'

Starsky wasn't sure he'd heard Hutch correctly. 'The... demon? You saw a demon? You have a demon following you around?'

'Yeah. You. You're a demon. No. I said a daimon. A Guardian Spirit. It told me to buy the larvae. It said part of the answer to the mystery of the larvae is here.'

'How? They look pretty harmless.'

'I think they are. So it's not insect larvae that we're looking for.'

'Then maybe masks? Or ghosts?'

'Those are the other meanings. But also, these things could be helpful in some other way. The daimon said they had positive energy.'

'They spin silk,' Starsky breathed in awe. 'Look!' Hutch looked down into the box of larvae. One of them had attached itself to a leaf, and was spinning a web around itself. A cocoon of fine white silk.

'Hutch, you are holding the secret to silk right there in your hands. Do you know what this means?'

'It means I'm going to put the larvae away to spin their cocoons in peace, and you're going to read the tarot deck and put all mercenary thoughts out of that head of yours. That's what it means.'

'Yes, Daddy. You're mean, Hutch.'

'Stop that.'

Starsky finished unwrapping the tarot deck and laid the silk covering aside. He carefully avoided looking at Hutch's box of larvae, and kept his eyes on the table in front of him.

'Well, what is the question to which you want an answer?'

'Ragnhildr has sent us on a quest. What is the best way for us to succeed?'

'A quest?'

'She was my mentor, and teacher. It's traditional.'

'Ah.'

Starsky studied the tarot deck for a moment, then carefully separated the Major Arcana from the Minor Arcana. Using only the Major Arcana was simpler, lead to deeper readings, and was perhaps the best way of divining the future. He shuffled the cards thoroughly, then drew a deep breath.

'The first card represents the forces influencing and surrounding you.'

He laid the first card in the centre of the table. It was the High Priestess.

'The second card is the crossing card. It depicts the forces which oppose you.'

He laid this card across the first. It was The Wheel of Fortune.

'The third card represents the foundation of your question. What happened in the past that leads to your seeking answers today?"

This card went below the first two. It was Justice.

'The fourth card depicts what has passed. What influences are passing from your life?'

He laid this card to the left of the central crossed cards. It was The Hermit.

'The fifth card shows us what may come.'

The Hanged Man went above the central cards. 'Now we come to what you must face in the future.'

The sixth card was laid to the right of centre. It was The Devil.

Now Starsky began laying out more cards in a vertical row to the right of the cross.

'What do you feel?'

The card he turned up was The Lovers.

'What do others think?'

The next card was The Chariot.

'What do you want?'

The Magician stared up at them from the table. 'Finally, what will happen? Where are events leading you? What will be the resolution?'

Starsky held the deck in his hand for a moment, letting the tension build. Most cards in this reading appeared to have a positive interpretation at first glance, with the exception of The Devil.

He took the final card from the top of the deck and turned it face up on the table.

Starsky had seen Death many times. Looked Him in the face. Watched Him carry off his friends and family. Argued with Him. Turned aside His Scythe at the last possible moment. He wasn't afraid of Death. He simply had not been prepared to see Him ride up on His white horse during a discussion about Hutch's future. He risked a glance up at his lover.

Hutch was smiling.

'An interesting spread,' said Hutch, coolly.

'Yes. But that last card...'

'...is the most interesting of all. Come on, give me your interpretation. Or do you want us to do it together?'

'Together, like we should do everything. But let me start.'

Hutch gave him a slow, suggestive smile, that warmed him to his toes, and chased away the chill that had entered the room with the Death card.

'Okay. The first card refers to the forces influencing your situation. The High Priestess...she governs unconscious forces, unseen powers. She tells you to use your intuition. Perhaps she represents Ragnhildr?' Hutch looked up at this, and raised an eyebrow. 'Ragnhildr is a sort of High Priestess, isn't she?' 'Yes. That's a possibility. It is what she would do. When I was her student, I often fought her teachings on that subject. I am a Seidhrman, but I didn't want to be one. I wanted logic to rule my life.'

'And now?'

'Now I've accepted my fate, but not without some protest.'

'Well, there's nothing at all wrong with logic as a tool. Perhaps it's even more useful to you because you are a Mage. It balances the intuition and the unseen forces.'

Hutch stared at Starsky as if he had never seen him before. Then he breathed a single word.

'Yes.'

'The crossing card is The Wheel of Fortune. The Wheel turns and we can't control it. We aren't in control of our own fates, whatever we like to think. This is the major factor which is in opposition to you on this question...'

'... which is, how are we to solve the mystery of the larvae, and finish our quest. But the Wheel is turning without us. Things will happen that we cannot change.'

'Always. But if we stay together, side by side, watching each other's backs...'

'...whatever happens won't overwhelm us. Go on.'

'The third card is the foundation, what existed in the past that now leads to you asking this question. Justice. We need justice. We need balance in our lives...'

'... as you said. We need logic and intuition,' said Hutch.

'Yes. But perhaps, at some time in the past, there was an injustice?'

'Is that what you think?'

'It's what I feel. When I look at the card, I feel there was an injustice. Something is out of balance.'

'Not us,' said Hutch.

'No. We're right together. Perfect.'

'Perhaps this quest has to do with putting other things in balance.'

'Larvae, Hutch? What could be out of balance with larvae?' Starsky risked a glance over at Hutch's little box, where the larvae were busy spinning silk.

'I don't know. What about the next card? What is in the past? The Hermit?'

'You were a bit of a hermit, weren't you?'

'Yes. That could be about me. I hope that isn't entirely in the past, though. I need time alone to meditate. How easy will that be, in Rome?'

'I'll see that you get the time. Rome doesn't have wilderness surrounding it, like Oslo, but there is the countryside. My family owns a villa in the suburbs.'

Hutch smiled and took his hand.

'Don't worry,' he said. 'We'll manage. I went into all this with open eyes. I'm not going to blame you if problems crop up. If they do, we'll solve them.'

Starsky looked back at the cards. 'Now, the next card tells us what may come. The Hanged Man. That tells me we should do what we think is right, not what others tell us.'

'The Hanged Man is a mystic. He hangs suspended between earth and sky. Perhaps we'll be in that position.'

'It seems likely to me. The Wheel is turning without us, remember?'

'But the Hanged Man tells us we will need faith.'

'And we will need faith. Because we are going to face The Devil.'

Hutch actually snickered. 'I wonder if the Tarot means that literally.'

'You told me I was a devil. Several times.'

'Yes. You are. And look how well I handle you.'

'Well, you don't get to try out those hands on any other devils we meet, so we'll just have to work out other techniques. The Tarot doesn't mean a literal devil, I'm pretty sure. The devil is inside us, leading us into despair, into thinking we can't make a difference, that life isn't worth living.'

'So you think I might face that temptation in the future?'

'Everyone does. But I won't let you give in.'

'Thanks.'

Starsky looked up to see if his Hutch was being ironic. It didn't look like he was. Starsky shifted in his chair a little, and Hutch grinned. Starsky looked down at the next card rather quickly. It didn't pay to get distracted in the middle of a Tarot reading, he thought. Who knew what revenge the Tarot spirits might exact.

The next card was The Lovers. Oh. That helped a lot. Hutch laughed.

'Want me to handle that one?'

'Hutch!'

'This card was in answer to the question, "What do I feel?" I can see why it came up.'

'Hutch!'

'The Lovers is the card of mystical union between male and female spirits, right? Or the male and female sides of each of us, regardless of gender. Our physical bodies, our genitalia, are not the most important parts of us. They are important, but so are our minds and our souls. Mere physical union is cold and empty without the union of our souls. Or so I've always thought. Not everyone agrees.'

'Hutch?'

'Yes, love?'

'Why is someone licking my ankle?'

'Oh, that's Viggo. I guess he likes you, too.'

'Well, please tell him, in a polite way of course, that I'm not into bestiality.'

Viggo woofed and backed off. Starsky looked down into dancing, black, wolfish eyes. Viggo woofed again.

'He says, from what I can make out, that he's not into humanality, so you're even.'

'Good. Glad he's not offended.'

'Getting back to The Lovers, this card tells me that I'm beginning a new phase of my life...'

'...which we did already know.'

'Yes. And you are the one I should turn to for help in solving my problems.'

'Always. But then, what do others think? The Chariot is the card of ambition and drive to success. Maybe others think that's what drives us? Maybe they're right. I'm ambitious Hutch. Does that bother you?'

'No. Not unless your ambition gets in the way of other things.'

'Like love? Never. That comes first.'

'Then let other people think what they will. The ninth card speaks to what I want in life. The Magician is about knowledge and creativity, and the connections between the worlds, so the Tarot speaks truth.'

'The Magician is also about order and formula and structure. But formulas don't always work. Sometimes life is disorder and chaos, Hutch.'

'What do we do then?'

'Trust in our intuition. And then we come to the resolution. The last card. Death.'

'You looked frightened when you turned it up. Why, Starsky? It doesn't mean one of us is going to die. Not necessarily. It could mean a death, but any kind of death could fulfill the prophesy.'

'I know. It was just... I'm doing the reading for you. Death isn't welcome at this feast.'

'Death is always with us. Like life. You said life is sometimes disorder and chaos. Sometimes death is order and structure. Don't fear it.'

'I don't. Except for you. And my mother. My father died, you know.'

'I know. You told me.'

'And it didn't lead to structure and order.'

'But you lived through the chaos, and came out the other side?'

'Yes. But I don't want to live through your death, Hutch. Not so soon after finding you. Not ever, to tell the truth. I know we all die someday, and you get to die after years of happiness, when we're both about 95, in my arms, in our bed, after a night of love. Or, if not that, then we die together, in battle, and our names live on forever in legend, the greatest warrior lovers who ever lived.'

'That sounds good to me.'

'Which?'

'Either. Or both. Well, at least now you can laugh about it. I'd say this card doesn't mean either of us is going to die. We're going to solve the mystery of the larvae, and the quest will end in a death, which creates order and structure. Not chaos.'

'Aye, Sir.'

**************

Starsky leaned his arms on the table and looked at Hutch.

'Hutch? You never really told me how you became a Seidhrman. Were you born one?'

'No. I became a Seidhrman the usual way. I died.'

'Died?' Starsky stared. Hutch died? He was dead?

'Hutch?'

Hutch laughed and leaned across the table to kiss Starsky. His lips were warm. That was reassuring. Of course Hutch wasn't dead. What had he been thinking?

'I was healthy as a small child, but then, when I was eight years old, I got really sick. No one knows what the illness was. I couldn't get out of bed one day, and I simply lay there, wasting away to nothing. My father... well, he thought I was being lazy, or cowardly, or something.'

'Just faking it?'

'That was the impression I received from him, yes. But I wasn't faking. I did eventually die. I stopped breathing. My heart stopped beating. I was declared dead. They had me on the funeral pyre, and were about to set fire to it, when I sat up and looked around.'

'By all the Gods and Goddesses!'

'Yes. That was a strange awakening. My mother was happy I wasn't dead, but I've never been sure about my father.'

'Oh, Hutch. No, no, no. Whatever you may think, I don't believe that. Your father -- I think he doesn't understand you. You confuse him, or maybe even scare him. Perhaps he wishes you were a different sort of person. But he doesn't wish you were dead, Hutch.'

'Thanks, Starsk. I hope you're right.'

'I am. I'm always right. But what happened? Why did you come back to life? Weren't you really dead, after all? What happened after that? How did you meet Ragnhildr?'

'Hey, there. Slow down. And what do you mean, you're always right? Yes. I was really dead. I was taken by the tree spirits. I saw the World Tree. I saw the roots of the World Tree winding, winding through all the worlds, connecting us all. We all belong to the World Tree. The trifling little things we do to separate ourselves into categories, the petty hatreds we nurse against categories of people different from ourselves -- it's all so childish. I saw all that. The trees taught me their language. They nursed me back to health, and then they sent me back to Middle Earth.'

'A Seidhrman.'

'Not quite. I'm not really a true Seidhrman even now. Perhaps I never will be. I still have so much to learn.'

'I think you know a lot. Ragnhildr? How did you meet her?'

'I ran away from home, out into the wilderness. I think I was looking for the tree spirits to take me back to the World Tree. Once you've seen it, Starsky, it's always home. I didn't find the World Tree, but I did find Ragnhildr, or rather she found me. She appeared beside my campfire.'

'Like on our last night in Norway?'

'Yes. I was scared.'

'I believe you. She's a terrifying old Mage.'

'She kidnapped me, in a way, if you can kidnap a child who's run away from home and doesn't want to go back and is prepared to die to meet the World Tree. She taught me there are easier ways.'

Hutch seemed to come to himself with a start, and looked around as if he'd died again, and woken up on a funeral pyre.

'What? What's the matter, Babe?'

'I... I've been talking for hours. Isn't it time we went to bed, or something?'

'Bed? I suppose.'

'Starsky? Are you okay? Not feeling sick or anything?'

'I'm fine, Hutch. Better than fine. I like listening to you talk, you know. I don't have to fuck you all the time to be happy.'

'That's nice. But let's go to bed anyway. I'm tired.'

Starsky slid around the table, and sat in Hutch's lap.

'Careful, Starsk. This old chair might not hold up under all our weight.'

'I don't just want your body, Hutch. I want your mind, and your soul as well. I love listening to you talk. If there was some reason we could never fuck again, I'd stay with you. I'd never be unfaithful either, just get friendly with my hand. I'd miss this, so let's get it while we can, but it's not all I need. I'd suffer without it, but I'd survive.'

Hutch sighed. Starsky settled down between his thighs. He kissed Hutch's hair, and his eyes. He caught one of Hutch's hands between his own, and kissed the fingers.

'Starsky?'

'Shh. I'm busy.'

'Doing what?'

'Kissing you. I'm going to kiss all of you, and it's going to take some time, so start learning patience. Got that?'

'Aye, Sir.'

'I like the sound of that.'

******************

'Just lie back. Like that. There. Perfect. Ready for more kissing?'

'I don't know? Do I have a choice?'

'Aw, Hutch. Don't you like kissing? I only want to make you happy. If you're not....'

'I am happy. I love kissing. This is just -- it makes me uncomfortable, I guess, being passive. Just lying here.'

'But I want to worship you. I've never worshipped anyone before. Not another human creature, anyway. Only the Gods and Goddesses, and they're usually so far away. It's a rare man who gets a chance to worship a God this close up.'

'I'm not a God, Starsky.'

'Ah, but when I first saw you naked, it was my first thought. That you were a God. I didn't realize which one, though. You see, Hutch, once when I was very drunk, I sacrificed at the altar of Eros, and begged him to come down to Earth for me. I thought perhaps he didn't hear my prayer, but he did. You are the God of Love, in the flesh.'

'Isn't that sacrilege?'

'Not if it's in answer to my prayer. I'll sacrifice again, when we get back to Rome, and assure Eros that I mean no insult, and that he still reigns on Mount Olympus, but that I thank him for sending one of his avatars to Earth. Just for me. Now. Let me get back to my worship.'

Hutch closed his eyes. How could he live up to this much expectation? He was only human. Weak. Mortal. He had faults. He would fail Starsky. And then what? Disciples of fallen gods often took out their disappointments on their former deities. But then, if that was his fate....

'Shh. Don't think so loud. We're in the Temple of Love, my love.... Listen. Do you hear that?'

'What? The wind?'

'The wind. And the sea. I think that was a whale breaching.'

'Yes. It's wonderful. I love the sea.'

'It's horrible, Hutch. I hate the sea. I nearly died when the last ship I was on sank. Remember? So comfort me. Be with me, here.'

'I'm with you, Starsky. I'm just not a God. I can't save you.'

'Yes, you can. You can love me.'

******************************

Starsky and Hutch stood at the rail of the Dragon to watch the coast of Italy appear on the horizon. It was a cold, windy day, and the captain had told them they should make port before noon.

'My family keeps a small boat at Ostia,' Starsky informed Hutch with a shudder. 'You know how to sail?'

'Yes, Starsky. I can sail a boat.'

'Okay. I'll let you sail us up the Tiber to Rome.'

'I'm honoured. But I've never been to Rome. I don't know the river.'

'I've been forced to sail up and down her a few times, with various family members. If my uncles can do it, anyone can.'

Hutch laughed. 'Maybe we can hire a pilot?'

'If you like. Now, if we make good time, we should reach the Starsky Family Compound before dinner.'

'The Starsky Family Compound? That sounds ominous.'

'Don't worry. You've faced Death and the World Tree.'

'Is your family so imposing?'

'Nah. Just large and sprawling. Now, the Caesar family -- they're imposing.'

'I know.'

'We Starskys, we haven't been around quite so long, nor are we quite so rich. But some of us think we're much better than the Caesars.'

'Some of the Hutchinsons think the same.'

'We're middle class. We run businesses, banks, invest in stocks and bonds. We don't make war on other countries, and legally execute our enemies. But I'll tell you a secret. Some of my ancestors were pirates and horse thieves. Don't repeat that around the family dinner table.'

'I won't breathe a word.'

'Just thought you should know, now that you've married into my family.'

'About that -- Starsky? How will your family feel? I mean, you go away, come home married to some strange man. And I guess I'll look very strange to them.'

'They'll love you.'

Starsky said this with a firm finality that brooked no opposition. Hutch had tried to canvas him in various subtle ways on this subject before, and had always gotten the same answer, with no elaboration. With Starsky, that was unusual. Hutch wondered if there was some story behind all this, but after all, he was a very new family member, and didn't want to pry.

'Something else you should know. The way we got married, well, it needs some adjusting.'

'Isn't it legal?'

'Oh, yes. Completely legal and binding. But it doesn't put you in a very good position. Legally speaking, I mean.'

'You mean, you took me captive?'

'You know about that?'

'Of course.'

'It wasn't what I wanted, Hutch. I wasn't thinking straight. I was in a rage, over the duel. I didn't really think I'd lose, but even experienced duellists like me can make a mistake.... Anyway, there wasn't time to draw up neat contracts. So, I just annexed you, so to speak.'

'I know, and it's fine with me.'

'No. It's not fine. Not with me. We'll get that fixed, as soon as I consult the family lawyers. I told Ragnhildr that we're equals, and I'm not going to make you my slave.'

'I trust you. Don't you trust yourself?'

'You want that, Hutch? Marriage by capture? Like I own you?'

'Do I act like your slave, Starsky?'

'No. And no one would believe I forced marriage on you. It's the principle. I want to fix it.'

'We'll see.'

'Stubborn bastard.'

*************************

'Ostia is a sewer. We should go straight to Rome.'

Starsky made this announcement with all the fervent emphasis of one of those new religious cult leaders haranguing people on the streets to turn away from sin.

Hutch laughed, and Starsky turned sad, hurt eyes on him.

'It is, Hutch. You don't know what depraved, filthy, vicious, base, villainous wickedness they can get up to here.'

'But you do.'

'Yes. Which is why I suggest we head straight for Rome.'

'And the Starsky Family Compound?'

'Well, there you have it: Ostia, the spawn of The Devil? Or the Starsky Family Compound? You get to choose.'

'I'm honoured. Let's look around Ostia first. I'm interested in why you could possibly think it's worse than Rome, and I want to see what the residents have to say about you.'

'That will be very enlightening.'

The Dragon had dropped anchor at her berth in the harbour not long before. Starsky and Hutch were ready to disembark, their baggage beside them, Viggo at their heels.

'What about Customs?'

'What about it?'

'Well, it just struck me,' said Hutch. 'I am bringing live insects into the country.'

'They don't look alive to me. They're mummies. Little insect mummies. Besides, we're the Starsky family.'

'Yes?'

'We have an arrangement.'

'You mean we're smugglers?'

'Keep your voice down. Of course we're not smugglers. Smuggling is illegal. We just have an arrangement, that's all.'

'And you, a member of the Military Police.'

'What's that got to do with my family's arrangement with Customs?'

'I don't know. I give up. What does it have to do with this arrangement?''

*************

Hutch would not have characterized Ostia as a sewer. It was noisy and smelly, but so was every port he had ever been in. The taverns were friendly. The lupas wore fewer clothes than they did in Oslo. Starsky was soon relaxed and laughing.

They were walking along a street in the theatre district, Starsky suggesting they come back later in the week to see a play. Hutch was about to agree, but raised voices down the street drew his attention from the playbills he had been studying, some of which were rather obscene. He grabbed Starsky's arm, and directed his attention to their right.

An altercation had broken out between two street singers and one of the gangs that roamed the district. Starsky saw a flash of green. The Greens! They were known to run 'protection' rackets, but only rarely were they caught, and never were they punished. Witnesses had a habit of disappearing before the trial. Or dying.

'Come on. Let's see what's up.'

'Is that safe? We don't actually have any authority here, Starsky.'

'Who does? The Watch are a joke. The Praetorians only come out for full scale riots, and this doesn't qualify. I am still in the Military Police, so I doubt I'll be arrested for trying to keep the peace.'

The Greens had apparently been trying to steal money from one of the street singers, a lovely young woman.

'Come on, whore. Hand it over, or we'll take it out of your flesh.'

Hutch pushed forward and stood in front of the singer. 'Leave her alone. It's her money. You need money, go work for a living.'

The watching crowd laughed and applauded. 'You must be a stranger here, Gorgeous,' one elderly woman called out. 'That bunch doesn't know what work is.'

'Shut up, you old bitch,' one of the gang members shouted back. 'Or we'll take your money too.'

'Go ahead, if you think it's worth it. Why don't you rape me as well, if you can get that tiny, limp prick up for long enough. I'm game. Haven't had sex in a couple of days.'

The crowd was roaring now. Starsky laughed at the expression on Hutch's face. Perhaps he had thought Starsky had been joking about Ostian bluntness.

The gang members were getting angrier. The old woman's taunts were getting filthier. That riot might start any minute, and the Praetorians might indeed get a workout. Serve the lazy buggers right, thought Starsky.

The taunts and laughter of the old woman seemed to be turning the tide, and Starsky began to relax. But suddenly, one of the gang members lost his head, and threw a punch at Hutch. Hutch blocked it easily, but the rest of the gang jumped in.

Starsky threw himself into the fray, putting his shoulder against Hutch's, and he reached for his knife. Hutch's hand on his wrist stopped him.

'No one has drawn a weapon yet. Let's not be the first.'

Starsky swore. His temper often got the better of him, and he regretted it after. Now it seemed that he had acquired a living, breathing conscience. No problem, he thought, as he knocked one of the gang members down for the count.

Off at the edge of the crowd, which had grown since the start of the battle proper, a voice was barking orders. The Praetorians?

A tall, black figure strode into the melee. By all the Gods and Goddesses! The piercing blue eyes, so startling in that dark face, froze him in his tracks. The crowd was falling away now, as the Praetorians pushed them back, and they had had time to recognize the new arrival. Starsky backed up, bowed, would have knelt, but there was no room.

'Dominus,' he said. The Prince ignored him. He was looking over the combatants, and his eyes fixed on Hutch.

'Kenneth?'

Hutch looked up in astonishment. Then he laughed. 'Marcus?'

The Prince laughed in turn. 'By all the Gods and Goddesses,' he said, echoing Starsky's earlier thought. 'What are you doing here in the middle of a street brawl?'

'Those thieves were attempting to steal some money from one of the street singers.' Hutch looked around, but the singer had disappeared. He went on, 'My partner and I were just arguing with them.'

'Partner? Never mind. Later. Paulus!' The prince turned to address the Captain of his band of Praetorians.

'Sir!'

'Arrest the thieves. The thieves wearing green, I mean. I'll deal with my old friend here myself.'

**********************

'Are you insane?'

'Not that I'm aware of. Why?'

'Why? Hutch, the Crown Prince comes along and offers us a lift up the river to Rome, and you want to say no thanks. Are you insane?'

'Good question,' said a voice behind Starsky. Starsky stood very still. 'I've often wondered that myself. You really shouldn't turn down a favour from your prince, Kenneth. Who knows when one will be offered again.'

Hutch looked over Starsky's shoulder at Prince Marcus. 'You are not my prince, Marcus. Norway is a client state, not part of the Empire.'

'And you belong to the Norwegian aristocracy, so your social status is nearly as high and mighty as my own. I remember. How can you stand this pompous ass, David?'

Starsky opened his mouth, but not a sound emerged.

'I'm not pompous, Marcus,' said Hutch. 'I just don't need favours from you.'

Starsky felt a hand on his shoulder. By sheer force of will, he kept his knees locked.

'What about you, David? Would you like a ride up the Tiber on the Imperial Barge?'

Hutch looked at Starsky's white face, and over Starsky's shoulder at Prince Marcus's laughing one.

'Shit,' said Hutch, in defeat.

***********************

'Ostia is a sewer.'

Prince Marcus said this in a voice so similar to Starsky's of a few hours before, that Hutch couldn't help but laugh. They were sitting on the deck of the Imperial Barge, under an awning. It was cold, but they were dressed warmly, and servants had brought them hot drinks.

Starsky sat quietly, watching and listening. They had been lovers, he thought. Lovers, or something like it. He forced himself to control his jealousy. Any love between Hutch and Prince Marcus was in the past. They had greeted each other like old friends. No romance there.

No romance, but an interesting relationship nonetheless. 'You are not my prince.' Hmm. Some old rivalry there. 'I don't need favours from you.'

But Hutch was replying to the prince's statement about Ostia.

'What is it about you and Starsky? I didn't see anything particularly evil about Ostia. And do you really think it's worse than Rome?'

'Worse? At one time, maybe. But lately, the rot is spreading. This is your first time in Rome, Kenneth. You said you'd never come here.'

'I changed my mind.'

'Ah. Why?'

'I married Starsky. He's Roman.'

'Roman. But Semitic, as well. Your family originated in Judea, correct?'

'Yes, Dominus.'

'Please. Call me Marcus. If you're married to my foster brother, that makes you part of the family.'

'Foster brother?' Starsky felt faint, as he had at the meeting with Ragnhildr in the Norwegian forest. Would Hutch never stop surprising him with his old friends?

'He didn't tell you?' Prince Marcus glared at Hutch. Hutch glared back.

'Kenneth, you might not be proud of the connection, but I am.'

'Marcus, it's not...'

'Aren't we friends any more, Kenneth? Don't you still love me?'

'Of course we're friends. Of course I still love you.'

'Well, you might act as if you do.'

Hutch sighed, and turned to Starsky. 'I'm sorry, Starsky. I should have said something before, but it seemed like name-dropping, and I find that revolting. Prince Marcus was fostered with my family when he was a boy.'

'So we grew up together, and Kenneth has absolutely no respect for me at all.'

The prince sounded pleased about this fact.

'But getting back to Ostia. As I said, the rot has spread to Rome in recent days. All these gangs are getting out of hand. The Watch can't handle them.'

'Can nothing be done?'

'The family isn't in a position to interfere. It's a civil matter.'

'No one wants the army, or the Imperial Palace, to start policing the streets,' Starsky said. It was the first time in this conversation that he had offered an opinion.

Prince Marcus nodded approvingly. 'What is needed, is a police force without any political affiliations. I'm trying to think of a way to set one up. David, when you get mustered out of the Military Police, why don't you and Kenneth come for dinner at the Palace, and we'll talk.'

*************************

'Here we are,' said Starsky, as the chauffeured limousine pulled into the courtyard of his family's apartment complex. Starsky was trying very hard not to grin at his lover's thunderous expression. He was going to have a difficult time getting Hutch to forgive him his trespasses by bedtime, but it might be worth the trouble just to see the looks on the faces of various family members as he climbed out of the limousine which flew the Imperial flag.

It was, of course, that limousine and flag which had created Hutch's ire. Marcus, as he insisted Starsky call him, had sat chatting happily away throughout the drive, while Hutch glowered. Marcus didn't seem offended or worried by his old friend's behaviour, as if he knew Hutch would come around.

'I was his first lover. He was my first male lover,' Marcus had confided to Starsky in a brief conversation, while Hutch was out of the way. 'It was a short-lived boyhood romance, and nothing more. But I care about him deeply.'

'I figured something like that, Dominus.'

'Marcus, remember? You'll get used to it.'

'Marcus. I gathered you'd been more than friends, but I love him, and I trust him. I'm not going to subject him to displays of jealousy over every old lover I meet.'

'Don't worry. There haven't been that many. You've probably met them all by now. He's almost as chaste as...' Marcus seemed to be trying to think of an example of chastity, but his education had clearly been as lacking in this regard as had Starsky's.

Now, Hutch climbed out of the limo in silence, ignoring Starsky's soft inquiry. Marcus snapped out, 'Kenneth!' in a voice which would have had an entire legion in a cold sweat. Hutch turned coolly, and smiled as he leaned in the limo door.

'Yes, My Prince?'

'Don't be such a prick, Ken.'

'I'll try, Marc. But you can be a prick yourself sometimes. You didn't have to insist on driving us here.'

'No, I didn't. But your attitude just encourages me. It's an attitude I like, though. We're going to be great as colleagues, you'll see. In the meantime, none of this is Starsky's fault, so don't blame him.'

'I don't.' Hutch slammed the car door shut, stepped back, and waved as the chauffeur drove away.

'Hutch?'

Hutch started, as if he'd been lost in a dream, and Starsky had woken him. He put his arm around Starsky and smiled down into his eyes. 'I have been a prick, haven't I?'

'Yes, but I suppose Prince Marcus brought up some bad memories.''

'In a way. Come on, I'm okay now. Let's meet your family.'

**************************

'So, my boy. Are you a friend of Prince Marcus?'

Starsky glanced around at the avid faces of his family. Poor Hutch! His mother had summarily put an end to all the questions tossed at them the moment they had stepped into the lobby of the apartment building. She had insisted that they have a chance to wash up, and change out of their travelling clothes before being interrogated. But here they were, sitting on the living room sofa, surrounded by friends and relatives, all so eager to know everything there was to know about Starsky's new mate.

Good luck, he thought. I'm married to him, and my knowledge of the actual events of his life would fill a thimble.

'No, Uncle. Prince Marcus and I are old army buddies. We bumped into him in Ostia, and that's why he offered us a lift home.'

'David Starsky! You keep lying like that and your nose will grow so long...'

'I'm sorry, Ma, but Hutch and me, we've had a long journey. We're tired, and we've answered lots of questions already. I'm sure you'll learn all about Prince Marcus in the future. Why don't we eat? What's for dinner?'

Eat. Dinner. Magic words. Prince Marcus couldn't compete. Hutch rolled his eyes in Starsky's direction, but he looked amused. Perhaps tonight really wasn't going to be a total loss, after all.

There was a big communal dining room, which was used for parties, and large family gatherings. It appeared that their arrival qualified for this honour. They were seated at the head of the top table. Hutch didn't appear to be discomfited. Tonight was looking good.

'Ma?'

'Yes, son?'

'I'm leaving the army. Hutch and me have some plans.' He leaned over and whispered in her ear. 'Don't talk about this to anyone right now, okay?'

'Of course not, David.'

Starsky knew that he could trust his mother not to gossip, when it was his future at stake.

'Prince Marcus wants to set something up with us. It's important to keep this a secret for now.'

'So why are you telling me this here?' She kept her face admirably blank, considering that she must be bursting with curiosity.

'Because there's no better place to tell someone a secret than in a crowded, noisy public place. And I need you on our side. Try and steer the nosy relatives in another direction, will you?'

'That's going to take some work. What relatives do we have who aren't nosy?'

'None that I can think of. But you love this kind of thing, Ma. Make up all the gossip you want. And another thing. Hutch and me need a little honeymoon. We didn't really have a proper one. Can you arrange for us to use the villa? '

'The villa at Misenum?'

'Jupiter's balls, no. That's way too far to ride. Just the newer one, here on the Esquiline Hill.'

'That's very near the necropolis. You remember what happened there.'

Starsky and his mother both glanced in the direction of Isaac Starsky, who sat alone at one of the smaller tables, in a corner. Few family members paid any attention to this behaviour after all these years. But it was sad, thought Starsky.

'Yes. And it's often sitting empty, because of that. Trust me. Hutch isn't afraid of ghosts.'

********************

Hutch sprawled across the middle of the big bed, in the room they'd been given for the night. It was actually a small corner suite, on the top floor, with a view of the city. Being on the top floor meant that they wouldn't be disturbed by any thumping noises overhead during the night, as his mother had observed. Starsky fully intended to impress the entire family with his own thumping noises.

'Come here. Sit,' said Hutch, patting the bed beside him.

'Yes, Master.'

'I know what you're thinking.'

'Indeed, Master?'

'Yes, indeed. You've been wanting to say something all evening. But I'm way ahead of you. Marcus and I were lovers. But it was a long time ago.'

'I know. He told me.'

'Figures. Anyway, there's a lot more to it than that. Which is why... Marcus did bring back some bad memories. You see, as I told you, he was fostered with my family.'

'That's a bit unusual, isn't it? Fostering isn't really a Roman custom, and he's the Crown Prince.'

'He wasn't the Crown Prince then, remember? Just a younger son. The Emperor wanted him out of the way, out of the country.'

'Because of all the assassinations?'

'Yes. He also wanted to forge some closer ties with the Norwegian royal family. But as it turned out, for some reason I never learned, Marcus ended up with us. We had a little romance. It was friendship. And it was sex. It was nice. But it wasn't the stuff of legends.'

Hutch paused for a long moment, looking off into the shadows of the room. Then he added,

'My parents wanted it to be more.'

'I see.' And Starsky did see. He saw all too clearly, in fact. Same-sex marriage, while not forbidden to those in direct line to the throne, was strongly discouraged. There were rumours that, in the past, some same-sex partners had been assassinated to get them out of the way, because they were impeding the procreation of legitimate heirs. At the very least, Hutch's life would have been made a living hell if he'd formed a permanent bond with Marcus. His life would only have been bearable if they'd been in love. Hutch had been fortunate, but his family had only seen the possibilities of power and wealth, lost because their son had been unable to hold the prince's love.

'Well, that's in the past, and now you've met my ex-wife, and my ex-boyfriend. My ex-girlfriend was unavailable, but she's married, with two children. That's it. Happy, now?'

'Yes, Master.'

'Stop that.'

'I'm sorry, Master. I thought you liked me touching you there.'

Hutch pulled Starsky down on top of him, then rolled him over. Hutch pinned him beneath his body, and glared down into Starsky's eyes.

'I'll show you how I like you to touch me.'

'You do that, Master.'

************************

Starsky was happy. Hutch had been very receptive to his love last night, and he was sure they'd put a few new dents in the wall behind the bed.

Hutch had shown up for breakfast wearing something new. It was an exotic costume in heavy black silk -- loose trousers with a tunic of some kind, covered in embroidery and silver coins, and tied with a sash. He looked gorgeous, sexy and barbaric. Viggo paced at his heels, a huge wolf, obedient to his every command, at least in public.

Now, they rode through the city, out toward the Esquiline Hill, on tall black horses. Their baggage would be delivered later, in a car. They had preferred to ride horseback, on such a sunny day. Hutch had added a red, fur-lined cloak to his outfit, and that would have been wasted in a closed car.

'So, this villa we're going to stay in, is it right out in the country?'

'There isn't any real countryside around Rome, Hutch. But it's a quiet suburb. Real quiet in places.'

'Yes? Why?'

'Well, it's on the slope of the hill overlooking the necropolis. And some people just don't like living next to dead people.'

'Now, that I don't understand. The dead are pretty good neighbours, in my experience. They don't wake you up in the middle of the night howling at the moon because they got home drunk, for one thing.'

'Yeah. After you're dead, the fun is pretty much over. That part of town used to be pretty rough, being near the Subura, but the Emperor declared a city clean-up about a decade ago, or so my mother was telling me. They tore down the worst of the old buildings and put up some public housing, and some nice villas. My family bought one of them.'

'So why is it available for us?'

'Because it's haunted.'

'Oh. That makes sense.'

***************************

The villa was clean and tidy, but a bit musty from being shut up for weeks. They walked around, opening doors and windows to let the air blow through. The central courtyard had a fountain, and an arrangement of rocks and sand that looked faintly oriental in style. Viggo prowled around for a while, then settled down under a bench and went to sleep.

'You said this place is haunted?'

'Well, I've never seen any phantom here, myself, but I've heard that other people have. You see...'

'No. Don't tell me anything. That will influence my mind.'

'My lips are sealed.'

'That will be a shame later on. We are supposed to be on our honeymoon,' said Hutch, just before starting his own prowl around the rooms.

'Hutch!'

His Hutch was turning into a tease.

'No one was murdered here,' Hutch informed him, some time later. They were walking around the courtyard now. 'It's not haunted on a regular basis. The phantom... she was happy here, for the most part. She died elsewhere. That's all I can tell right now, but maybe later, if she makes an appearance, I can question her.'

'So far, you're right on. Do you want to know everything I know?'

'Everything you know? No. Leave some surprises for later in our marriage.'

'Hutch, I meant everything about the phantom.'

'Sure. Enlighten me.'

Hutch sat on the bench under which Viggo was sleeping. Viggo opened his eyes, stretched, jumped up on the bench beside Hutch, and looked at Starsky with as much curiosity as his companion. Starsky laughed a little, but sobered up as he told the story.

'About ten years ago, one of my uncles, Uncle Isaac actually, fell in love with a lupa. Almost everyone in the family was shocked and horrified when he married her. That was around the time the family bought this villa. The area was still being gentrified, and no one else in the family really wanted to live here, so near to the Subura. So Uncle Isaac and Aunt Gillian moved in. They were happy, it seems, and then she got pregnant.'

'And the gossip started. It was not his child. She was pregnant by one of her clients.'

'Yes. They ignored the gossip, and she gave birth to a son. He looked just like Uncle Isaac.'

'But the gossip didn't stop. It went on, and he started to doubt her.'

'Most of the family stayed away from the Naming ceremony. Uncle Isaac and Aunt Gillian had a fight. She ran away, off into the necropolis, and hanged herself in the Starsky family crypt.'

'Remind me never to listen to your family gossip.'

'Hey! They're your family now too.'

'Yes, they're my family now, too. So, do you think I'll fit in any better than I did with my own?' The conversation progressed rapidly after that, from Starsky's various and colourful speculations on Hutch's ability to 'fit in', to Hutch pulling Starsky down beside him on the bench, and trying to demonstrate some of his fitting techniques. Viggo looked a little peeved at the turn the debate had taken. He began to prowl about the courtyard again, checking out the various scents and leaving some of his own.

Viggo suddenly lifted his head, and barked. When that didn't distract them, he came over and nudged Hutch with his nose. The man and the wolf shared some secret communication, in that way that still left Starsky feeling a bit left out. Hutch sat up, reluctantly.

'We'll have to put this off until later,' he announced. 'Your servants have arrived.'

The servants had indeed arrived. Far too many servants, in Starsky's opinion. They brought with them far too much baggage, and far too much additional furniture.

'What's going on? We're only staying here for a short honeymoon. I have to check in with the Vigil Militarius tomorrow. The only reason I have today free, is that Prince Marcus sent a courier with a message to the head office, granting me a longer leave of absence. Who knows how much free time I'll have, once the whole mustering-out process starts.'

'Don't worry about that. I think Marc is on our case. You'll probably be released from service faster than anyone in military history.'

'Perhaps. But I doubt it. I know how slowly the wheels of the Vigil Militarius grind. Ignatios?'

'Sir?'

'Why all this fuss, for a short honeymoon? Did anyone happen to enlighten you, because no one said a word to us.'

'Honeymoon? Sir, Prince Marcus said you'd be living here. Permanently.'

Starsky heard a choking sound behind him. He turned, worried, but Hutch was actually laughing.

'I give up. What else did His High and Mightiness have to say for himself?' Ignatios paled a little at Hutch's casual sacrilege, but pulled himself together with admirable dispatch, in order to give a full report. 'The prince showed up just after you left. He talked briefly with Master David's mother, and some other family members. Then, he came out to speak to me. He gave me these papers to take to you. Said they were the deeds to this property, made out in both your names, and that I belong to you now. These other servants belong to you, as well.'

'I see,' said Hutch. 'Anything else?'

'Yes, Sir. He said to tell Master David that he'd already been released from his military service, and that he's to enjoy his honeymoon with Master Kenneth. You are both invited to dinner at his own private residence tomorrow night. He's sending his own limousine around to pick you up.'

'Ah. Any other orders from on high?'

'None entrusted to me, Sir.'

'My thanks, Ignatios. You are dismissed,' said Hutch, with dignified hauteur. Ignatios bowed, clearly impressed, and went back to organizing the move into the villa.

'Well, my love,' said Hutch, 'It seems we own a haunted villa. What shall we do with it?'

'Move in?

**************************

Starsky stood watching his mysteriously large pack of servants carrying his mysteriously large accumulation of possessions into his mysteriously acquired villa. Well no, he thought, that last bit wasn't quite right. The villa had been, as Prince Marcus's note informed them both, a 'wedding gift'. That was nice of Prince Marcus. Starsky supposed he could afford it though, being the heir to the throne of most of the known world. Hutch had decided to shrug it off. Perhaps he was mellowing now that he was married. Besides, how did you turn down a wedding gift, without seriously offending the giver?

But now, as the train of servants bearing furniture and boxes continued to pass by, Starsky started to feel anxious. By all the Gods and Goddesses it was all real. He was married. He owned his own home. He owned furniture and dishes, and pots and pans. He owned books. He owned horses too, it appeared. Horses were among the gifts from his family that had arrived with the servants. Even now, the horses were being led to the stables.

He owned Hutch.

He found Hutch in the courtyard talking to Ignatios about the garden furniture.

'Babe, we have to talk.'

'About what?'

'You know about what.'

'Starsky, despite what you appear to think, I can't read your mind. Not yet, at least.'

'About our marriage,' Starsky burst out. 'I hate it.'

'Thank you for telling me. That was fast. How long did we last? A month?'

'That's not what I meant, and you know it, you idiot,' Starsky bellowed. 'I meant, I hate the contract. Or rather the lack of the contract. I hate this mess I got us into. We have to see our lawyer. Get it fixed. I can't live like this.'

'Fixed?' asked Hutch, in a calm voice. 'What needs fixing? There's nothing that needs fixing. I'm happy with our marriage.'

'Fuck you, Kenneth Hutchinson. I'm not happy at all. I'm not happy having the power of life and death over you. This wasn't what I meant, and if I'd been thinking clearly....'

'You'd have done what? Gone and sat down with some lawyers and negotiated a deal? Go ahead, negotiate away. Just leave me out of it.'

'Hutch? Hutch, lover. I don't understand you. I don't, Hutch. Don't you see? I could kill you, along with all the other slaves in this house, and no one could touch me. It's my fucking right, Hutch. And I'd have to live with that for the rest of my life.'

'Well, if that couldn't stop you, what could? Some marriage contract? And if I ever did anything to deserve your killing me, I wouldn't want to go on living. So I don't see the problem, here.'

Starsky stared at him, speechless for a moment. 'There's something very wrong with that argument, but I'm not sure what it is. I'll have to consult a philosopher, I guess. And why do you get so pissed off at Marcus over his attempts at patronage, and then turn around and want me to be your Lord and Master?'

'You are my Lord and Master. I didn't want it, you just are. I fought it, fought it hard. But then you killed my enemy, and fed me his heart, and I knew.'

'Knew what, Hutch?' This conversation was venturing outside the fields that Starsky knew. He remembered now, remembered the savagery he had felt. The loss of ordered modes of thought. The way Hutch had looked at him, just before.... They couldn't go there again. They were civilized human beings. A little play, in fun, was one thing.

Hutch's eyes were turning from their usual pale, silvery blue to near black, the way they had that night.

'I knew what we were. I knew what I wanted. But if you don't want that. If you don't want what I am, who I am inside....'

Hutch turned as white as Death on his white horse, from Starsky's Tarot deck. He swayed on his feet. Starsky launched himself into the air, and caught him just before he fell.

'Hutch? Hutch! Ignatios!' Starsky turned to the servant, who was still standing there, at least as white as Hutch, frozen to his spot, since he'd not been given leave to go. 'Get a glass of wine. Some blankets. Hurry!'

The servant ran off.

'Hutch? Are you with me? Don't go flying off to some other world, Hutch. I need you here with me.'

'I'm okay,' Hutch whispered.

'Shh. Quiet now. Ignatios is getting you some wine. I'm sorry, Hutch.'

'No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.... Starsky?'

'Yeah, Babe?'

'If you don't want to be married to someone like me, I'll understand. I'm not a good husband. I made a terrible husband. You don't know. I don't spend all my time in this world. Spirits talk to me. The trees in the courtyard talk to me. I can hear them right now.'

'What are they saying?'

'Something about the stars. We're all from the stars, or something. I don't know, Starsky. They talk to me, but I don't always understand them, and it keeps me awake at night. You don't really know. You haven't seen the things I do, when I have visions. I haven't had a vision, a real one, since we met. You haven't seen me fall to the ground, and foam at the mouth, and rave about fire from heaven.'

Starsky heard Ignatios cough, gently. He turned and took the glass of wine and the blanket the servant held out.

'Here, Babe. Drink this,' Starsky ordered, wrapping the blanket around Hutch's shoulders. 'What is it?'

'Just wine. Drink it. Do what you're told.' Hutch grimaced, but drank.

'Feel better?'

'Yeah. Good as new. The thing is, Starsky, I'm not cut out to operate as your equal in this world.'

'That's not true, but it's all right. We won't discuss it again. Not now, anyway. Just relax. We'll work it out. I love you.' Starsky could feel Hutch relaxing in his arms, under his hands and lips, within the rhythms of his voice.

************************

It was evening. All the furniture had been arranged to Hutch's liking, and the boxes emptied. The villa was habitable at last. They had eaten an early dinner, and Starsky had ordered Hutch to get some rest.

Starsky changed into his ceremonial toga, with the narrow purple stripe of the Equestrian class. Then he called Ignatios into the room he had chosen as his office, and ordered him to close the door. The servant was now standing before Starsky's desk, looking nervous.

'I understand that you had no choice but to listen to the conversation between my husband and myself, Ignatios.'

'Yes, Sir. But I apologize for listening. I won't repeat a word of it to anyone, ever.'

'No. You won't. Furthermore, let me make something clear. Kenneth Hutchinson is a man worthy of the utmost respect. If I ever see or hear anyone in this household treat him with anything less than that respect, or fail in any way to carry out the least of his orders with complete and instant obedience, that servant will regret it.'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Please inform the entire household of my orders in this matter.'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Is everything ready for the evening prayers?'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Good. Make sure all the household is present. You may leave.'

'Yes, Sir.'

Starsky waited until Ignatios left his office before indulging himself in a sigh. Terrorizing servants was not a sport he enjoyed, but he truly would beat any man bloody who dared to treat Hutch as his family had treated him most of his life, so it was best that they all understood that now. The Hutchinson family was fortunate that he was too far away to seek revenge without having to rely on hired assassins.

Hutch was still asleep, and Starsky hated to wake him, but Hutch had made him promise. He wanted to perform this ceremony, the first blessing in their new home. Starsky bent over and stroked back the silky blond hair from Hutch's brow.

'Hey, wake up. If you really want to do this, we need to get going, before all the light is gone.'

'Mmm. Sorry. I was so tired.'

'I know. We can put it off until tomorrow night.'

'No. It's best to do it now. We're going to The Noble Abode of His High and Mightiness for dinner tomorrow night, remember?'

'How could I forget?'

Hutch had changed into another new outfit. This time the trousers and tunic were in dark blue silk, with red embroidery and little gold bells. Hutch looked happy, but still too pale. Starsky thought that if he didn't look more like himself soon, he was going to have to ask Prince Marcus for his list of reliable assassins after all. Hutch's parents might yet wake up in the middle of the night with black-clad, knife-wielding, stone cold killers sitting on their chests speaking the final words they would ever hear in this world:

'This is a gift from David Starsky.'

Starsky drew a deep breath and pushed that lovely image to the back of his mind for the time being. He needed to kill someone, and soon, or he'd be taking out his rage on some innocent servant for dropping a cup in Hutch's hearing. Perhaps he could walk through the Subura, with money jangling in his pocket, and tempt someone to try and mug him?

Starsky caught a glimpse of his own face in the bedroom mirror and dropped that idea. There weren't any such desperate or stupid thieves in all of creation. Okay. Time to replace that expression with husbandly devotion, or Hutch would be freaking out again.

He moved up behind Hutch and stroked his back. 'You are the most gorgeous avatar of the God of Love ever to walk the earth. They must be crying up in heaven. Remind me to sacrifice at the altar of Eros first thing tomorrow. I don't want to tempt fate.'

Hutch laughed. That was better. Starsky took his hand, and said, 'Come on, then. Let's get this house safely blessed. You don't want to mess with the Lares and the Penates.'

'No. I suppose not. What are they, exactly? I've never had a deep grasp of your religion.'

'More acquainted with the World Tree, I know. The Lares are the guardian spirits of the fields around the house. Janus guards the gates. The gateways and doorways should be anointed with oil by the lady of the household, but if you truly don't mind doing that...'

'No. Why should I mind?'

They had reached the atrium, the large room at the front of the villa. All the servants were gathered, waiting for the ceremony to begin. As Starsky and Hutch entered they all knelt before their masters, for the first time. Ignatios got to his feet, and handed a bottle of olive oil to Starsky. Starsky handed it to Hutch. They walked to the front gate, and Hutch spread some of the oil on the gateposts.

Starsky spoke. 'May all the Guardian Spirits of this place be well. May you all be well. May you all be well. There,' he added. 'That's it for the outside spirits.'

'That's all?'

'They're easily pleased.' Starsky grinned. The Lares and the Penates were simple, household gods, who usually didn't demand expensive sacrifices. Which was why everyone had them. 'Now, Vesta is the Goddess of the Hearth, and the Penates guard the storerooms.'

They went back inside, just as the last beams of the sunset touched the gateposts in benediction. The servants were still kneeling, but got to their feet at a signal from Ignatios, who then handed Starsky a lighted torch and a jug of water. Starsky presented these to Hutch, and they walked to the hearth.

'Just light the fire, then toss the torch to the servants,' he instructed.

The tinder caught fire immediately, another good omen. The servants scrambled to catch the torch, and a young maid was the lucky one.

They walked to the household altar, and Hutch set the jug of water down, beside the incense burner, and the unlit candle.

They lit the candle, and burned incense, and Starsky repeated his hopes that the Guardian Spirits, the Penates this time, would be well. Hutch smiled at him, finally looking peaceful, and more like himself. The Hutchinson family could sleep safely in their beds a little longer.

Starsky sent all the servants off to their quarters, or to their stations, with strict orders not to let anything disturb the masters of the house for the rest of the night. Hutch was kneeling on the hearth, looking into the flames.

'Fire can be a divining tool.' Starsky observed. 'What do you see in this fire.'

'That I love you. That this is my home.'

'The fire tells the truth. But it left out the part about my loving you. Are you happy, Hutch?'

'Of course. Why wouldn't I be happy?'

'I want to give you what you need.'

'You do. I don't need you to beat me, Starsky. I just need you to love me, and to hold me, hard, with both hands. Sometimes, I feel as if I'm in freefall, with no net below me.'

'I won't let you fall. And you can ask for anything you want. But I won't hurt you, and I won't let anyone else hurt you.'

'I'm strong enough to protect myself.'

'I know. But no one is strong enough to protect themselves from everything, all the time. That's where having a partner to guard your back comes in.'

'I want you to be on top tonight.'

'That's not a problem.'

'And don't be gentle, because there's no need. I'm strong. I can take it. Here. Help me off with this.'

Starsky untied the sash, and helped Hutch pull the tunic off over his head. Then he got to his feet and unwound his elaborate toga, as quickly as he could. Passion was what Hutch wanted tonight, not gentle seduction.

Hutch took off his trousers, and lay back on the hearth rug, in invitation. Starsky felt his cock fill with blood and grow hard at the sight. He reached for the bottle of warm oil waiting on the hearth and coated his own cock with it. Then he pulled Hutch's legs apart, roughly, and Hutch moaned.

'I'm yours. I belong to you. I'm yours.'

'You are mine. If anyone else ever touches you like this, I'll kill them.'

Starsky thrust his cock into Hutch's body. He grabbed Hutch's hands, holding them tightly over his head. Hutch's body arched under his own, and Hutch wrapped his legs around Starsky's waist. They rocked together, Starsky's cock going deeper and deeper into the depths of Hutch's body.

Starsky bit Hutch. leaving marks of ownership on every inch of flesh he could reach.

'Starsky!'

'Silence. Don't fight this.'

'No. No, I'm not fighting you. More. Harder. You want to. You want to. Just take everything.'

That savage wildness that Starsky had felt overtake him once before, was starting its spiral dance up his spine. He looked down into his lover's eyes, the eyes that were now black with love and passion, and let go.

The wind was rising, out on the cold, frozen plains. The World Tree lowered one of its many branches, and Hutch climbed on, then held out his hand to Starsky, to pull him up.

'See,' he said. 'This is our home.'

Something was wrong. Starsky had fallen asleep wrapped in Hutch's strong arms, his softening cock still buried deep inside Hutch's warm body. Everything had been beautiful and peaceful. But now something was wrong. Hutch was twisting, struggling, trying to get away from Starsky, and that was all wrong. Starsky pulled himself out of the deep, warm place he loved and tried to understand what was happening.

'No. No. Let go.'

Starsky let go, instantly. It tore at his heart to let go, but something was wrong, Hutch wanted him to let go, so he let go.

Hutch scrambled to his feet, and looked down at Starsky. Angry. Hutch was angry. But why? Starsky pulled himself together. Someone had to be the sane one here, and it looked like it was going to be him.

'Hutch? What's wrong, love?'

'I wasn't a whore, you know.'

'What? Of course you weren't a whore.'

'You told him I was, but I wasn't. Not a common whore, anyway. Not a lupa off the streets. I was in a good house. That was where he met me. And after that, he was the only man I fucked. Our son was his.'

Starsky stared into Hutch's eyes, that weren't Hutch's eyes. It wasn't Hutch's voice that he was listening to, either.

'Hutch? Are you still in there?'

'He's still here, still alive. I'm not going to hurt him.'

'Let me talk to him. Hutch?'

Hutch jerked suddenly, startled, as if he'd been shot, then closed his eyes and swayed, softly, side to side.

'Gillian. Gillian. It's all right. I'm listening. Tell me what you need me to know.'

Starsky heard a whine behind him. It was Viggo, who had been sleeping in one of the little side rooms off the atrium. Viggo sat in front of Hutch and watched his every move.

Hutch's eyes opened, and they were Hutch's eyes again.

'Starsky. Listen. Don't be afraid. I'm going to let Gillian possess me. Completely. She's going to take over my body, but I'm in control. Don't be afraid. Can you do that?'

'I can do whatever you need, Hutch. But are you sure this is safe?'

'Just trust me. This is my world, Starsky. This is what I know.'

Hutch sat cross-legged on the floor, and closed his eyes again. He began that rhythmic swaying that started a trance. Then his face began to change, grow softer, more feminine. His body grew more curved. Soft full breasts swelled in place of the hard, carved chest muscles. For long moments, there seemed to be a struggle taking part in his body between the dark, slender form of his Aunt Gillian, and the majestic, statuesque body of the female Hutch from the Otherworld.

Hutch won.

Starsky sat and stared in delight at the body that he thought he might never see again.

'Hutch?' Starsky whispered his lover's name, hardly daring to believe it might be true. He had had one night with Hutch in his female form. Starsky worshipped the ground Hutch walked upon, whatever form he took, but occasionally he wished to stroke those magnificent breasts, and bury his cock in that gloriously beautiful vagina.

'Hutch? Is that you?'

Hutch opened her eyes. She studied him for a long moment.

'It's me, and it's not me. Gillian is still inside me, but I'm in control. I've bound her spirit, bound her to me and to this place.'

'What does that mean?'

'It means that she cannot haunt without my permission. It means that she is a spirit in the service of this house. But I have promised her two things in return. One is that we will clear her name with the Starsky family, as best we can.'

'And the other?'

'She misses having a body. She misses sex with men. I've promised her that occasionally she can use my body, in this female form.'

'I see? And what do I get out of all this?'

'Whatever you want.'

**************************

It was morning, a truly glorious morning, despite the cold and the rain. At some point during the previous night, Hutch had turned back into a man, with a vengeance. Starsky sat down, rather gingerly, at the breakfast table.

'You're lucky I'm not a conservative Roman,' he observed to his lover.

'I didn't think you were a conservative anything.' 'I'm not, and you're lucky.'

'I'll bite. Why is that?'

'Because they don't eat breakfast.'

Hutch choked on his cereal. 'Good Gods Above!'

'Yes. I could never be a conservative Roman because of that. And they never marry men who turn into women, and then back into men, all in one night, and completely wear out their husbands cocks, to say nothing of their asses. My cock will never get hard again.'

'Don't worry, if yours wears out, you can use mine.'

'Hutch!'

Hutch looked up, but not at Starsky. His eyes had gone distant, as if he was listening to a spirit, or conversing with the World Tree. Starsky held his breath, not sure if he wanted Hutch to turn into a woman again, or if the idea scared him half to death. Not only was Hutch in female form gorgeous enough to give a statue a hard on, but now she had all Gillian's knowledge and experience, picked up in the field, so to speak.

Starsky felt a chill along his backbone. 'Hutch? If that's Gillian's ghost, she's not here because she's feeling horny, is she?'

'No. She says that someone is ransacking our bedroom. Come on.'

They ran down the hall, calling to the servants on the way. Just as they reached the bedroom, a masked, black-clad figure burst through the door. He collided with Hutch. Starsky saw a knife flash, aimed for Hutch's heart. For a long eternity, he stood frozen, uncertain whether to interfere. Would that save Hutch, or push the knife in?

Something pale and ghostly flashed in front of Hutch. The knife was deflected, off Hutch's chest, and into his shoulder. Hutch backhanded the intruder across the room. Starsky screamed for Ignatios to help Hutch and grabbed the attacker, before he could escape.

******************

'Starsky, I'm fine. It's just a scratch. Odin's balls!'

'Stop wriggling. That's no scratch. And what if the knife was poisoned?'

'It wasn't poisoned. I'm a Seidhrman. I'm doing a healing ritual as we speak. Stop trying to distract me.'

'Do your healing ritual. But I'm cleaning out this wound. And I'm having the knife tested by one of the Starsky mages. There may be poisons you're not familiar with.'

'As you like.'

'There. All bandaged up. Don't pull it off. Rest that arm, or I will put it in a sling.'

'I'll rest. Where are you going?'

'Never mind. Ignatios will stay with you.'

'Starsky. Where are you going?'

'I'm going to question the man we caught. Then I'm going to make sure he has a nice, long, peaceful sleep.'

'I think I should be there.'

'Hutch.'

'Starsky, I'm not stupid. You're going to torture him.'

'No. I'm going to appeal to his better nature.'

'Which I'm sure he has. I should be there, because the thing about torture, you see, is that you're never sure whether or not you are getting the truth, or just what the victim thinks you want to hear, so that you'll stop.'

'Granted. Okay. Have you ever tortured anyone, Hutch?'

'No.'

'Have you ever watched anyone being tortured?'

'No.'

'Then what the fuck do you know about it?'

'I've been tortured.'

Starsky stormed down the hall toward the small room where Ignatios and several other servants were holding the intruder. Hutch was close on his heels. Starsky stopped just outside the room, and pulled Hutch aside.

'Look, if you're not going to tell me what you meant by that, at least don't interfere. Don't try to stop me. That thing is going to tell me everything it knows.'

'Okay. But that's a man, a human being, not a thing.'

'That man tried to kill you. Not a way to get on my good side. He broke into our home, touched our things, and tried to kill you. No wait. This is my home, isn't it? I'm the master here. The sole master. You granted me that right. I've tried him, and found him guilty, and now I'm going to sentence him. I have the power of life and death over anyone and everyone in my possession, Hutch.'

'Yes.'

'If you don't like it, say so now, and we'll go to see our lawyers and get that changed.'

'I didn't say I didn't like it.'

'Damn you, Hutch. Not again. We're not discussing this again. Not after last night. If you come into this room with me, you do it on my terms. Understood?'

'Understood. But just remember. Anything you're planning to do to him, has been done to me.'

'Fuck you, Hutchinson. How dare you? Who the fuck do you think you are?'

Hutch stared at him silently.

'I've tortured people before, you know. It's no big deal. They deserved it.'

Hutch said nothing.

'Well, let's go in, then.'

Starsky pulled the door open. The intruder was sitting on a chair, bound and gagged. Starsky stood in the doorway for a long moment, just looking at this scum who had dared to try to kill Hutch.

'Okay,' he said. 'Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're going to answer them. Then I'm going to kill you, and stick your head on a pole outside the gate as a warning to anyone else who thinks they can just walk into my house and attack my lover. My lover is a powerful witch, and that is why you couldn't kill him. He can tell whether you're lying or not. If you tell the truth, I'll kill you quickly. If you lie, this could take weeks.'

Starsky leaned in close, and confided in the intruder's ear. 'I'm unemployed at the moment. I have nothing better to do with my time. And it's been a while since I tortured anyone. I think my skills need a lot of practice. What do you think?'

******************

'Larvae,' said Starsky bitterly, tossing the intruder's black mask down on the table in front of Hutch. 'Ragnhildr said larvae. I asked what kind of larvae. Masks? Insects? Ghosts? Well, we've had them all. Death as well. That scum tried to kill you over some larvae. But I took the place of Death, and killed him instead. And I think I created order, Hutch. It was Justice, anyway.'

'Yes. It was.'

'I didn't torture him. Much. Just enough to get my point across that I knew what I was doing.'

'I know.'

'If I had tortured him, would you have left me?'

'No,' Hutch looked surprised. 'Of course not.'

'Would you have thought less of me?'

'No!'

'You are ruthless aren't you? But I knew those insects were trouble. That whole setup was suspicious, if you look at it from the point of view of hindsight. Using us to get the larvae off their hands, before the spies from Cathay caught them. Now that was clever. Then we nicely smuggled the damned things into Rome for them.'

'It's good to feel useful to someone.'

'Yes. Tell me now. How and why were you tortured, and where can I find the torturers? That's an order.'

Hutch smiled. 'It was part of my training as a Seidhrman.'

'What? Ragnhildr....'

'No. Of course not. That wouldn't have been any use. It happened in the Otherworld. Several times in fact. I've been flayed alive, cut open and turned inside out. Burnt by fire and a thousand suns. Had my head cut off, my hands, my feet....'

'Okay, that's enough information. I've never seen the scars.'

'There aren't any. It happened in the Otherworld, not here, to this body. But the pain was real. There's no pain that I haven't felt. I thought it was the worst pain I'd ever feel, but I was wrong.'

'What do you mean, Beloved.'

'All that pain was nothing, after you tried to take back your vows. Three times.'

Starsky sank to the floor at Hutch's feet, and kissed the ground before him. 'No,' he whispered. 'That's not what I tried to do. I tried to free you.'

'I don't want to be free. I was yours, you said. I belonged to you. You would kill my enemies, and cut out their hearts.'

'And I have. And I will. I have another heart waiting for you. Just give me the word, and it's yours.'

'But now you want to cut out my heart. You want to take what was something personal between us, and hand it over to lawyers to discuss in dusty offices. To have contracts drawn up defining what is yours and what is mine.'

Starsky kept his head down, over Hutch's feet, so that Hutch wouldn't see his face. He kissed Hutch's feet to keep from screaming in rage. Screaming at Hutch would have no effect. None that was worth the trouble anyway. Hutch just got quieter, paler, more withdrawn.

Starsky faced the fact that Hutch would never be open to reason on this matter. Starsky could force the issue. He could have all the contracts written up, granting Hutch his legal rights, and order Hutch to sign them. Hutch would obey, and he'd see Starsky's actions as treason. He'd probably forgive Starsky, go on living with him, but a lot of the trust would be gone. Slowly, Hutch would draw more and more into himself. Starsky had been the one at fault here. It should be Starsky who paid the price. He looked up at Hutch, calmly.

'I'm sorry. I didn't see it that way. I was wrong. I lost my temper, and said things that I shouldn't have. I'll never try to take back my vows, Hutch. Do you want to exchange those vows again? Here, in front of the household? My family? Prince Marcus?'

'That sounds good. But not today.'

'Whenever you want. Just say the word.'

***********************

'Mulberry trees. Hmm. Mulberry.'

'White mulberry. He said those were the best.'

'Yes. I'll get Ma on the job. She can find anything. Then we need lumber. Fine screening. Very fine.'

'It'll be a while before the cocoons hatch, Starsky.'

'Best to get started now, though, so we're ready.'

'Now, we have about a dozen cocoons. Hope that's enough.'

'It'll have to be, won't it? I'm not hiking all the way to Cathay for more.'

'Here we are. Look, the bay windows give plenty of light, and there's room for lots of large cages.'

'Okay. This is perfect. I'll get the servants onto building the cages right away. Then, I have some other things to do. Not torture, so don't look at me like that. I have to sacrifice at the altar of Eros, remember?'

'Say goodbye to our helpfully loquacious friend on your way out the gate.'

'I will. Then I have to buy some big, beefy slaves, for more security, just in case the other smugglers try to get those worms back. You are going to rest that shoulder.'

'Starsky, will you stop telling me to rest. I'm not a pregnant woman.'

'That's not my fault. I tried hard enough last night for ten men.'

'Yes. You did. But that body is just temporary.'

'That's all right with me. I might live to be another year older. Ah. Ignatios. My husband thinks he's Hercules. He's not. I have some things to do. I'll be back soon, but in the meantime, he's in charge. See that all his orders are carried out, except for one. Don't leave him alone. If you do, I'll have your balls cut off and dried, and you'll wear them in a little bag around your neck for the rest of your long and boring life.'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Starsky,' said Hutch. 'Just go and pray to Eros. Pray hard. If you don't let up on me soon, you'll need him on your side.'

**************************

They were getting ready to go to dinner at The Noble Abode, as Hutch insisted on calling it. Hutch was debating what to wear, in a way only he could.

'Maybe you should send to your mother, and ask for all the family jewels. I wouldn't want to appear underdressed.'

'Hutch. Here. Wear this.' Starsky pulled a box out from behind the bed, where he had hidden it earlier. It was from one of the most exclusive and expensive men's toga shops.

'What is it?'

'Open it and find out.'

Hutch opened the box, and pulled out a tunic and a formal toga, made of the finest wool. The band of purple was deep, the most purple that anyone was allowed to wear who was not a member of the Imperial Family.

'Starsky. I can't wear this.'

'Yes, you can. I checked. I wouldn't do anything that would cause you shame or embarrassment, or get you into trouble. You come from the Norwegian aristocracy, and you are indeed the foster brother of Prince Marcus. That's a matter of public record. Now, you're married to a citizen of Rome, even if I am only from the class of knights. You belong to the Senatorial class, Hutch. You can sit in the Senate if you want.'

'When iron floats.'

'Wear the toga, Hutch.'

'There's more purple here than there is on yours.' Hutch sounded aggrieved.

'I'm just a knight. I'm not entitled, and it's fine with me. But I'm proud of you, and I want to see you wear it. Just once. Please.'

'Well, if you beg. But I've never worn one. I don't know how.'

'Take off all your clothes, and I'll put it on for you. Mmm. Yes. You're going to look so beautiful.'

************************

The limousine picked them up just before dusk. There was enough light for a few neighbours to see the limo pull up, and Hutch, in his impressive toga, step inside.

The chauffeur didn't even blink at the severed head adorning the post outside the gate, though Starsky had seen some neighbours and passersby eyeing it, nervously. Such house decorations were permitted, of course, but rare. He'd have to take it down soon, as it was already starting to smell. If it were summer, it would be crawling with flies.

Starsky had made his point, anyway. The next intruder would be impaled in the front yard, alive.

The limo drew up at Prince Marcus' private residence. It made their villa look small, but Starsky had no wish to live in a palace. Besides, he had Hutch, and Prince Marcus didn't.

The prince greeted them at the door, as would any private citizen. Starsky was sure that was an honour granted to few. He led them into his private study, and poured them all drinks.

'Well,' he said. 'I see you're wearing a toga.'

'It's a gift from Starsky.'

'He has good taste.'

'But I'm not sure it's right. Starsky says I'm entitled.'

'You are. You can sit in the Senate, if you wish.' 'So Starsky informs me.'

'I have a better idea.'

Prince Marcus picked up some large. old books from his desk, and tossed them down on the coffee table in front of Hutch.

'I've been doing some reading,' he said. 'Studying the history of Rome. It gave me some ideas.'

'What sort of ideas?'

'We, my dear friends, are going to bring back the Guardians.'

*** The End ***

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