Read Online The Druid King by Norman Spinrad - Free Book Online

rockier reaches, the chirping of the birds, and the breeze in the trees, the silver-tongued Vercingetorix found himself entirely at a loss for words. Only one thing filled his mind, and he only hoped the pantaloons he wore were loosely cut enough to conceal the extent to which it filled
them.
    On the other hand . . .
    “Do you know what your name means—Marah?”
    “The she-horse, a mare.”
    “I would be happy to mount you, mare.”
    The look that Marah gave him was enough to freeze the stream in its bed.
    “There’s a little more to what’s supposed to happen between a boy and a girl than matching up the right bloodlines in a stable!”
    “I . . . I meant that someday you will be my queen,” Vercingetorix blurted.
    “Your
queen
?”
    “Uh . . . I mean that, were you mine . . . it would make me
feel
like a king,” Vercingetorix said. It was the best he could do to recover, without revealing that which he must not, and, however lame it sounded to him, it seemed to have the desired effect.
    “Well, at least that kind of talk’s a little more silver-tongued,” Marah said, regarding him with a bit more favor than she would a passing cur on the road.
    “Silver-tongued. . . ?” he said teasingly, and, nothing ventured, nothing gained, took both her hands, pulled her to him, kissed her boldly upon the lips, pressing the point of his tongue between them.
    Marah seemed to resist for a moment, but when he persisted, her mouth opened like a flower, and a bolt of lightning went from his mouth to his groin as he felt her tongue reach out for his for the briefest of moments, before it shyly retreated and she pulled away.
    “That’s not exactly what I had in mind!” Marah complained, not entirely convincingly, or so he was pleased to believe. “But not so bad for someone who’s probably never kissed a girl before.”
    “Who says I’ve never kissed a girl before?” Vercingetorix cried, then attempted to mask his dismay at her voicing of this truth with bravado. “Who says I’ve never made love to a girl before? Say the word, and I’ll prove it!”
    “The word,” said Marah loftily, “is ‘crude.’ It is to be hoped that the haggling over my dowry will take long enough to give you time to grow up a little.”
    Vercingetorix’s ears burned. “It . . . it was only an offer . . .” he stammered.
    “Very generous, Your Majesty,” Marah said dryly. Was that the thinnest of smiles on those lips he longed to kiss again, or was he only seeing what he wished to see? Without knowing, Vercingetorix dared only stand and stare.
    For a long moment Marah stared back, revealing nothing. Vercingetorix found himself leaning closer and—
    Marah laughed, pecked him on the cheek, took him by the hand.
    “Come on, Your Majesty,” she said. “Time to return to the city. I wouldn’t dream of keeping you from your royal duties.”
    The Great Meeting Hall of the Arverni was the largest building in Gergovia, a tall oblong structure of rough blocks of sand-colored stone mortared together and embellished with gray wood facings and an entryway so weathered that it was difficult to tell the grain of the wood from the ghosts of the swirling floral carvings.
    It faced the main plaza of the city, ordinarily given over to the stalls and kiosks of the market. Today these had been removed, and a good thing too, for, by the time Vercingetorix and Marah arrived, it was quite jammed with jostling and contending people. Some were servants carrying provisions to the Great Hall and sure to gain entry. Others were nobles of the Arverni and other tribes, there by invitation, likewise not to be denied. But there was also a crowd of the curious, the already besotted, and the forlornly hopeful clamoring to get in, no few of whom were harlots, musicians, bards, jugglers, and even a fellow with a trained bear cub, ardently insisting that the festivities within could hardly be complete without their assistance.
    The crush and tumult were not improved