Herotica 1. Kerry Greenwood

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      HEROTICA

      KERRY GREENWOOD

      THE CONTENDINGS OF HORUS AND SET

      It being the day of the Contending of Set and Horus, I was waiting to be paired with my opponent, Horus to my Set (I had drawn the Set token) and I was not best pleased to find the priest indicating I should take the hand of a foreigner. He was good looking, brown curly hair, bright dark eyes, a lithe body, the same height as me. But he was an Achaean, one of the People of the Sea, if I was any judge. They have strange customs. This was a sacred ritual, as well as a catch-as-catch-can groping, fumbling, wrestling game, and I did not know if an Achaean was aware of the holy purpose, as well as the end of the game: that I should be inside his body, or he should be in mine.

      Foreigners have strange ways. They already complained about our contrary ways, everything from women selling goods in the marketplace to men weaving and washing. What would this boy, whose name apparently was Kreon, make of the contendings of Horus and Set? And why was the priest beckoning me forward to take his hand?

      The priest was not the dry old tax-collector of the temple of Amon Ra, however, but the dark and sinister man from the temple of Osiris, his jackal-dog by his side, and I wasn’t brave enough to question his wisdom. I had already delayed enough. I took the stranger’s hand, which was strong and calloused, and Osiris gave us our own names ‘Sinuhe, Kreon,’ and our game titles, ‘Set and Horus’.

      ‘Can you understand me?’ I asked my Horus.

      ‘Yes, enough,’ he replied.

      ‘Do you understand this game?’ I demanded. ‘Reply swiftly, because this is a game which you Achaeans do not play.’

      ‘You do not know Achaea,’ he grinned. ‘Set left his sperm in Horus, Horus, by a trick, made Set swallow his in a lettuce leaf. I’m Horus and have to make you swallow me. You’re Set and have to mate with me. And we will first feast on roast pig.’

      ‘Yes, and get greased,’ I agreed. ‘Have you ever eaten a bull?’ I demanded. That was the thing we all knew: never kiss an Achaean, because they ate the flesh of the cattle which are sacred.

      ‘Never,’ he told me. ‘The largest animal I have devoured is a sheep.’

      ‘Good, then I can kiss you,’ I said, and did so.

      Then we sat down to the feast with the other boys. I adore roast pig and we only eat it once a year. I collected a lot of the lard on my fingers and prepared myself, in case I lost the battle. I gestured to my Horus to do the same. He giggled and complied.

      I already liked him. I found that I could induce in myself the right frame of mind and body without any trouble. I was hoping that I could prevail.

      We were sent out to the broad bank of the river. Seven pairs, the sacred number. The audience settled down with beer and the remains of the swine flesh to watch and make bets. Already the comments were obscene enough for me to hope that my Horus didn’t speak much Egyptian. By his pinkening cheeks, I gathered that he had picked up sufficient to be getting on with.

      The year was counted lucky if more Horuses succeeded than Sets.

      We lay down in the prescribed posture, Horus on his side, head pillowed on one arm, and Set lying behind him, phallus ready to insert between his thighs. As we waited I moved, very gently, and I felt my Horus quiver. If his lust overcame his will, I could have him as soon as the signal trumpet sounded.

      Which was assuming that my lust didn’t overcome me. I tried to think of Osiris, of his being torn to pieces, of his sister and wife flying along the course of the river, crying ‘Come to thy house!’

      All I could think of was the smooth rounded brown buttocks I was just touching. The signal came. I grabbed for his waist, but he twisted and I got a handful of hip. He rolled, taking me with him, and sprawled over me, solid and strong, pinning me down. Our phalluses were pressed between our bodies. It felt acutely lovely. I struggled. I managed to force his midsection up and away from contact.

      He laughed and bit my neck. The sensation was so fierce that I arched under him, and he managed to grab and drag until he was pulling my head down his body, toward the phallus which strained up toward my open mouth.

      I rolled again, flipping him so that he was face down, and lay on him with all my weight, parting his thighs with my knees, leaning heavily on the small of his back, so that I could penetrate him.

      When I did, it was so sweet that I could have screamed. He made a sharp cry like a bird, thrust back against me, and we were mating in earnest, careless of our roles.

      This was not right. I arranged us so that he was sitting on me, face to face, rising and falling like a rider, while I handled him delicately then with more force and as I reached my climax, he spurted the holy sap, unefer, the milk of life, up into my face and into my mouth, so that I drank him in as does Geb, the earth, when mated by his wife Nut, the sky.

      We collapsed into each other’s arms.

      ‘Horus?’ I asked.

      ‘Set?’ he answered. ‘You swallowed me, I swallowed you. Now what will we do?’

      ‘We rise and walk into the Nile to wash,’ I said, groaning my way to my feet, ‘and leave it to the priest. I don’t think that has ever happened before,’ I commented, walking down into the milk-warm water and caressing my lover, washing dust off his satiny skin.

      ‘Where and when can we do it again?’ he asked eagerly.

      ‘In another place,’ I promised him. I looked down into the water, seeing his body react to my hands. ‘And quite soon.’

      The Horus count was greater than that of Set - we had been declared a draw - so everyone was pleased, and I led Kreon to the temple of Osiris, to lie down in the cool darkness with me, and make love until dawn.

      Many years later, after a hundred adventures, I was shipwrecked off the Nile Delta, where the People of the Sea live. I dragged myself ashore, half drowned, and the women at the tideline called their king to decide whether I should be rescued or left to die in the sun. All they did for me was drag me entirely out of the water, where I lay like a beached fish, gasping.

      I lay there, dying of thirst, mouth too dry to even plead for my life, for what seemed like a long time. A figure came between me and the light.

      In a moment I was lifted up into a strong embrace. A man kissed me and cool water was dripped through my cracked lips.

      ‘You may need a little time,’ said a voice I had heard before. ‘But soon, my Sinuhe, we shall play again at the game of the contending of Horus and Set.’

      BABYLON

      We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.

      For they that carried us away captive required of us a song;

      And they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying

      Sing us one of the songs of Zion.

      How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?

      720 B.C.

      The deep green shadow blinded him as effectively as a bright light, and he halted and blinked. It was cool and scented under the trees.

      Trees? This was Ninevah, great city of the Assyrians, brick and stone and dust. He had been shoved and lashed if he looked up, dragging a heavy cart full of little trees in barrels. Now he was ordered to drop the hauling ropes and he slumped down onto damp grass.

      Grass? The overseer, the Assyrian Kul, gave Nahum a final flick of the whip and stomped away to torture another child of Naphtali. How many of us can be left? thought Nahum, dragging in deep breaths. Surely not many now. Babylon wanted to steal our lives, our daughters, our songs. Assyria just wants to kill us all if we